The Two Shipmates Part 2

"That's not the question. Come, here's the place; say the word and you'll be free," whispered d.i.c.k, not attending to his last remark.

"No, I cannot," answered Ralph firmly.

"An obstinate man will have his own way, and be sorry for it afterwards," exclaimed d.i.c.k, in a tone of vexation. "But I'll see what I can do in spite of you; there'll be another chance further on."

d.i.c.k staggered on as if he were still half-seas-over, gradually increasing his distance from Ralph till he got alongside his friend Tom.

The latter was in no mood for talking, but he listened eagerly to what d.i.c.k had to say.

"Ay, give the word, and I'm ready," answered Tom, after listening for some time; "only just help me to get my hands out of limbo."

d.i.c.k had managed to liberate his own hands, and it was the work of a moment to free his companion's, the darkness preventing their guards from observing them.

They had by this time reached a street close to the water, though at some distance from where the boats were waiting. Suddenly the press-gang were a.s.sailed by the wildest shrieks and cries and showers of abuse, uttered by a number of women and boys, who rushed out from some narrow courts or other places where they had been concealed. They did not confide their attack to words, but, supported by some men, who, however, kept at a safe distance behind them, they opened a volley of brickbats and stones at the heads of the sailors. The latter turned to defend themselves and drive off their a.s.sailants, who nimbly retreated, when pursued, in all directions, redoubling their shrieks and cries.

The officer, well knowing the object of the attack, shouted to his men to stand fast; but some amid the din did not understand what he said, and few were willing to obey his orders.

Tom, whose hands had been freed, tripped up the man nearest him, and dashed down the street towards the water, followed by two of the press-gang.

"Now's your time, mate," cried d.i.c.k, seizing Ralph by the arm; "come along."

"I cannot," answered Ralph, firmly; "I promised to remain. Save yourself if you can."

"You're a fool then," exclaimed d.i.c.k, and, springing past some of the press-gang attacked by those in front, he dashed through the crowd. He was, however, pursued, and quickly brought back.

"Luck's against me, hearties, but I'm not the lad to pipe my eye," he exclaimed, in a tone of bravado. "Just give me another chance, and I'll show you who has the fastest pair of heels."

The sailors laughed at d.i.c.k's sally, and thought him a hearty good fellow, though they did not neglect, for all that, to lash his hands more securely than at first.

In the meantime Tom had reached the wharf, but finding one side blocked up, had doubled, in the hope of escaping in another direction, when he saw two of the press-gang close to him. Numerous vessels of all sizes lay in the harbour. Dread of having to serve on board of a man-of-war made him desperate. Without hesitation he plunged into the water, and swam off, hoping to reach one of the vessels, on board which he might be received and concealed. His pursuers, expecting a flogging should he escape, dashed in after him. The heads of the three men could scarcely be discerned when the officer, with the main body, reached the quay. In vain he shouted to Tom to return and not to risk his life, while he ordered some of his men to push off in a boat and overtake the swimmers.

No boat was, however, to be found afloat in the neighbourhood. Some were hauled up on a slip, but they were under repair, and no oars were in them. The people who had been mobbing the press-gang had collected on the quay, keeping at a safe distance, and they now uttered cries of encouragement to Tom to persevere, while they hurled execrations on the heads of his pursuers; their voices, joined with those of the shouting seamen, creating the wildest possible uproar. In a short time the splash of oars was heard, and a boat was dimly seen at some distance from the sh.o.r.e. The officer shouted to the people in her to take his men on board, but his orders were unheeded.

Almost within hail lay the _Amity_. Could Ralph once get on board her he was safe. At that moment he caught sight of a lad running by.

"Here, boy," he cried out, in spite of the growls of some of the press-gang near him, "there's a golden guinea for you if you'll get aboard the _Amity_, tell Captain Mudge that his mate, Ralph Michelmore, has been pressed, and ask him to bring my protection, which he will find in my jacket pocket, on board the _Falcon_. She sails to-morrow early, so there is no time to be lost; or, if you can get off at once--and you shall have thirty s.h.i.+llings if you do--he may overtake us before we reach the boats."

"Trust me, mate," answered the lad, a sharp young mud-larker. "I should just like the feel of a little earnest-money, though, to show that I am not being sent on a fool's errand."

The seamen laughed, and told the boy that such was very likely to be the case. Ralph, however, found a crown piece in his pocket.

"Here, my lad," he said, giving it to the boy; "notwithstanding what they say, I will trust you. What's your name, that I may know you again?"

"I'm sometimes called Peter Puddle, and sometimes Muddy Legs, and all sorts of names, for that matter; but I'm no ways particular."

"Well then, Peter Puddle, be smart about it, and gain the rest of your reward," said Ralph.

The lad, with a shout of delight, taking the money, ran off, and Ralph was left in doubt whether or not he would fulfil his commission.

The sailors laughed even more than before. "It's easy to see who's the fool now," observed one of them.

The attention of the party was, however, quickly recalled to what was going forward in the harbour. The boat before seen could be discerned dimly in the distance through the gloom, and from the same direction there came the sound of oars splas.h.i.+ng, or people struggling in the water, and loud cries and shouts mingled with fierce oaths, while now a piercing cry rang through the night air. Some of the press-gang were eager to jump in and swim to their s.h.i.+pmates' a.s.sistance, but the officer forbade them, ordering three or four to make another search for a boat. At length the sounds of struggling ceased, but which party had been defeated it was impossible to ascertain.

The sound of oars in the water was now heard, and a boat was observed slowly approaching the sh.o.r.e. She reached at length the jetty near which the man-of-war's men were standing. Some of them went down to meet her, and a shout proclaimed that their s.h.i.+pmates had returned, though without a prisoner. The two men were lifted out of the boat, not having strength to walk. Their arms and shoulders were fearfully battered and bruised, and the head of one of them was cut open. They had reached the boat, when they were attacked by the men in her with oars and stretchers, and they would have been drowned had they not got hold of the gunwale, and, in spite of opposition, clambered on board, and, after a desperate struggle, turned the occupants out, just at the moment that another boat came up. The men, they believed, had been taken on board her, as had, they supposed, the escaped prisoner; and, at all events, she had made off and got out of sight.

Followed by a collection of men, women, and boys, still shouting and hurling abuse at them, the press-gang, moving on, at length reached the boats. Ralph and d.i.c.k were among the first not over gently hauled on board; the rest of the captives were as quickly as possible shoved in after them; a strong party of the press-gang remaining on sh.o.r.e to keep back the mob, which seemed inclined to make a rush at the last, for the purpose of rescuing some of their friends. Their courage, however, failed them. The last of the man-of-war's men leaped on board, the order to shove off was given, and the boats proceeded down the Sound, followed by the yells and execrations of the people on sh.o.r.e.

"They'll hurt their own throats more than they do us," observed an old seaman who was pulling at the thwart on which Ralph and d.i.c.k sat. "It's hard lines, though, you think, for yourselves, mates, I dare say; but before long you'll be used to a life aboard a man-of-war, and be as ready to press others as we were to press you."

"Justice is justice; and I shall never think it right to press men against their will," answered Ralph. "I, however, hope to be free to-morrow, as I have a protection which will be brought on board to me."

"Don't count too much on that, mate," said the old sailor; "when they've got a man, they're not in a mind to let him go. It's wisest to make the best of a bad job, and that's what I advise you to do, my hearty."

"If I had only myself to think of, I would," said Ralph, liking the tone of the old sailor's voice; "but I was to be married next week, and it's bitter hard to be parted from the girl one loves, and harder for her."

Ralph's voice trembled as he spoke.

"Ay, mate, hard, very hard!" answered the old sailor, in a sympathising tone; "I know what it is. I was pressed the very day I had married as sweet a young girl, and as good too, as an honest man would wish to have for his wife. I had five years of it out round the Cape without ever hearing a word of her, but I knew she would be true to me, and that kept my heart up. I got home at last, with plenty of prize-money to set up house, but she was gone. They showed me her grave. It might have been worse--I know that--still it seemed as if the life had been crushed out of me. I left my money with her childless mother, and volunteered aboard the first s.h.i.+p I heard of fitting out for a foreign station.

From that day to this I've been at sea, turned over from one s.h.i.+p to another, and never saved a sixpence. I wish I had. I'd have got your discharge, that I would, if money could have done it."

"Thank ye, from the bottom of my heart, old friend," said Ralph, warmly.

"Maybe I shall get my protection paper in time, and be set free."

"Wish I could say I thought so. But you'll know at least that there's one aboard the _Falcon_ who can feel for you, and that's something; ay, and will stand your friend if there's a chance. Cheer up! Cheer up!

Here we are, close alongside the frigate."

The pressed men, with Ralph and d.i.c.k among them, were sent down to the lower deck, and placed under charge of a sentry. They were allowed to stretch themselves on (as d.i.c.k, while bemoaning his fate, remarked) "the softest planks they could find," for the remainder of the night.

It seemed but a moment after Ralph had at length fallen asleep, that he heard the boatswain's shrill whistle and the deep rough voices of his mates rousing up all hands, while the pale light of early morning streamed down through the hatchways. The next cry which reached him was, "Hands aloft; loose sails." Other orders were issued; he knew too well their meaning; preparations were being made for immediately putting to sea.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Poor Jessie had wished at once to hasten on board the _Amity_, to obtain the a.s.sistance of Captain Mudge, and to get Ralph's protection, but her grandmother persuaded her to remain till the morning, as, not knowing where Ralph had been carried, she was sure nothing could be done till then.

Daylight came at length, and Jessie, receiving a loving embrace from her grandmother, set out. With a prayer for her safety, Mrs Treviss watched the young girl, who, like a bird released from its cage, flew rather than walked, as she made her way in the grey light of the early morn in the direction of the port.

At last she reached the landing-place, some way off which Ralph had told her the _Amity_ lay. There were several boats made fast to the sh.o.r.e, or moored off it; but no watermen were about. In vain she looked along the quays on either hand; no one was stirring. Here and there, on board some of the vessels, men were seen just coming up the fore hatchways on deck, but they were too far off to hear her voice had she called to them. She felt ready to give way to tears at the delay, when every moment might be so precious. At length she saw, through the veil of morning mist which still hung over the mirror-like surface of the harbour, a small boat approaching the landing-place. A boy was paddling her at his ease, singing as he slowly dipped his oars in the water. She hurried down to meet him, as, standing up, he gave a few more strokes and brought the boat to sh.o.r.e.

"Well, Miss, what's it you want?" he asked.

"Oh, boy, will you take me off to the _Amity_?" said Jessie. "She lies not far away from the sh.o.r.e, and I will pay you well."

"Now that is curious," exclaimed the lad, the same Peter Puddle by name to whom Ralph had entrusted his important commission. "I was to have gone aboard her for a young chap who was pressed last night and had left his protection behind him, but I got another job and couldn't, though I am agoing when I've had breakfast."

"Pray take me off at once, for every moment may be of consequence,"

cried Jessie. "I want to see the captain about the same young man, and he will, I am sure, give you some breakfast."

"Well, step in, Miss, then," said Peter, offering his hand to help her, while he kept the boat close to the sh.o.r.e with his boat-hook. "I thought might be that the skipper would just hear what I'd got to say, and then kick me down the side again, as the chances are many I've met with would do."

"Oh no! no! Captain Mudge will treat you kindly and reward you for the trouble you have taken," said Jessie, as Peter began to pull away from the sh.o.r.e.