As We Sweep Through The Deep Part 11

On seeing the captain, every one rose, nor would they be seated until he consented to sit down.

"Just sit down, Captain Mackenzie," said M'Hearty, with a merry twinkle in his eye, "and have a gla.s.s of wine while your soup is getting cold."

"If the president bids me, I must obey," said Jack, seating himself beside Tom. "It must be but for a moment. There are older men than myself here--our worthy Master Simmons, for example. I came to take your views about that Frenchman. He is evidently a battle-s.h.i.+p, probably a seventy-four. I say fight him; but considering this is my first captaincy--" But he was interrupted. Every man rose to his feet. It was a strange council of war, because every man held aloft a gla.s.s of wine.

The words, "Fight him!" ran round the table like platoon firing. There was determination in every eye and in every voice, from the deep ba.s.s of the gray-bearded master down to the shrill treble of the rosy-cheeked fledgeling marine-officer Murray, a mere boy, who would certainly have seemed more in place in the cricket-field than on the battle-deck.

"I'm going now," said Jack. "Thank you all.--Excuse me, won't you, Dr.

M'Hearty? I think the soup is cold enough by this time. But we'll make it hot for the enemy."

"Hurrah!"

The moon was later in rising that night, being on the wane.

It was the first lieutenant's watch from eight till twelve. Nothing transpired until about seven bells, when Jack and Tom Fairlie were walking slowly up and down the p.o.o.p. The moon was now well up, but hidden by a ma.s.s of c.u.mulus cloud. Presently she would burst into view, for the clouds were sailing slowly along the horizon, and near hand was a rift of blue.

Instinctively as it were, both officers stopped to gaze in that direction. In a few seconds the moon shot into the field of blue, and her light flashed over the sea.

It flashed upon the phantom Frenchman, as Tom Fairlie called her; but so quickly had she come into view that the sight was startling in the extreme. She was not crossing the moon's wake this time, however, but bearing down upon the _Tonneraire_, as if about to attack her.

The man at the mast-head had seen her at the same time, and his stentorian shout of, "Enemy on the starboard quarter!" awoke the sleeping s.h.i.+p to instant life as effectually as if a fifty-pounder had fired.

All hands to quarters.

R--r--r--r--r--r--r--r rattled the drum. It rattled once; the heaviest sleeper started and rubbed his eyes. It rattled twice; every man was on his legs and dressing. Thrice; and three minutes thereafter every man stood by his gun, and the c.o.c.kpit hatches were put down. The s.h.i.+p was ready for action.

Would she come on? would the Frenchman fight? Alas! no. Already she began to a.s.sume larger proportions as she showed broadside on. Above the wind, that now blew more gently from the north, the very flapping of her sails and loosening of her sheets could be heard as she came round, and in less than an hour she had almost disappeared in the uncertain light.

CHAPTER XII.

A BATTLE BY NIGHT.

"What art thou, fascinating War, Thou trophied, painted pest, That thus men seek and yet abhor, Pursue and yet detest?"--DIBDIN.

Day after day Jack's fleet held on its course, and the weather continued unbroken and fine. Day after day the phantom Frenchman hovered somewhere about, afraid perhaps to try conclusions with that rakish, spiteful-looking British frigate, or perhaps but biding her chance.

Twice or thrice Jack put about, sailed back and challenged her, with a shot, to fight if she dared. There never came the slightest response from Johnny c.r.a.paud--she seemed indeed a phantom.

And at night those on board the _Tonneraire_ could not help thinking the phantom was ever near them, even when it was too dark to see her. I do not think, however, that it kept many of the officers awake at night, although it must be confessed Jack was ill at ease. If it were possible for the enemy to steal near enough in the pitchy dark portion of the night, the first intimation of her presence might be a raking broadside that would sweep the decks fore and aft; then farewell the _Tonneraire_.

There are few things more difficult to bear than what Scotch people so expressively term "tig-tire," or excessive tantalization. There came a day when Jack called his chief officers together in his own cabin.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I've had enough of that French fellow. Why should he follow us night and day, like the shadow of the evil one, and yet refuse to fight? I mean to carry war into the enemy's camp, or rather on to his quarter-deck, if you think my plan feasible. Remember, I am hot-headed and young."

Jack then unfolded his plans, and they were generally approved, though the old master was somewhat doubtful of their success.

"However," he growled, "I'll take the wheel. Better, perhaps, after all, that we should take the initiative; for, blow me to smithereens, if that tantalizing Froggie ain't spoiling my appet.i.te!"

There was a general laugh at this, and the council broke up.

Next day it blew little more than a seven-knot breeze, and the sun sparkled on the waters like showers of diamonds. The Frenchman marvelled much to see not only the British frigate, but all the merchant fleet close together, and with main or fore yards aback. The truth is, Captain Mackenzie was issuing his orders by boat.

About an hour afterwards Johnny c.r.a.paud smiled grimly to himself to see the _Tonneraire_ fill her sails and tack out to offer him battle.

"The fool!" said Johnny. "When the gale of wind shall come, then I shall fight. Till then, _non_, _non_!"

So he filled and bore southwards next; and as Jack had no desire for a race, he returned to his fleet. He had done all he wanted to: he had put Johnny on the wrong scent.

That night, at sunset, clouds gathered up and quite obscured the sky.

Johnny rubbed his hands and chuckled.

"Soon," he said, "it will blow what perfidious England calls big guns.

Then--ah--_then_!"

It blew big guns far sooner than he had expected.

The night was intensely dark, but the half-moon would rise about four bells in the middle watch.

When Johnny c.r.a.paud looked towards the fleet, lo! the vessels had extra lights all, and lights were streaming from every port.

"Ha! ha!" he grinned. "They rejoice; they dance. They think they have made me fly. When the gale blows, then they will dance--to different music."

The watch kept on board the French seventy-four was not extra vigilant.

Especially did no one think of looking astern. Had any one on the outlook done so, then just about a quarter of an hour before moonrise he might have seen a dark shape coming hand-over-hand across the water from the direction in which "fair France" lay--fair France that many a poor fellow on Johnny's s.h.i.+p would never see again.

It was the _Tonneraire_. She had made a detour with every st.i.tch of canvas set, and was now almost close aboard of the enemy.

Ah! at last they perceive her; and the noise on board the enemy is indescribable--the shrieking of orders, the rattle of arms and cordage, the trampling of feet, the stamping and unlimbering of guns. But against her stern windows, which are all ablaze with light, the _Tonneraire_ concentrates her whole starboard broadside. The effect is startling and terrible. Confusion prevails on board the enemy--almost panic, indeed; and this lasts long enough for the frigate to sail back on the other tack. Jack's object is to cripple her, and with this object in view he concentrates his larboard broadside again in the stern of the seventy-four, and her rudder is a thing of the past.

Away glides the _Tonneraire_. _She_ is the phantom now. She loads her guns, and is coming down with the wind again--like the wind, too--when the seventy-four gets in her first broadside. It does but little harm.

It does not stop the onward rush of the swift bold frigate even for a moment; and Jack's next broadside is a telling one, for the Frenchman's sails are not only as.h.i.+ver, but aflap, awry, anyhow and everyhow; and just as the moon throws her first faint light athwart the waves, once more the helpless merchantmen tremble to hear the thunder of twenty cannon. For the _Tonneraire_ has crossed the enemy's hawse, and raked him fore and aft.

Now down comes the Frenchman's foremast; and shortly after, a wild triumphant shout echoes from stem to stern and stern to stem of brave young Jack's s.h.i.+p, for the enemy has surrendered.

A French seventy-four striking her flag to a British frigate of forty guns! Yes; but far more daring deeds than that which I now record happened in the das.h.i.+ng days of old.

Captain Jack Mackenzie would have gone right straight on board the enemy, but the master cautioned him.

"Nay, nay, sir," he said. "There is such a thing as French treachery; I have known it before. Wait till the moon gets higher, and we will board in force. Remember, they may have about five hundred men still alive on that s.h.i.+p."

Jack took the advice thus vouchsafed; but in half-an-hour's time the _Tonneraire_ rasped alongside the seventy-four, and a rush was made up the sides of the battle-s.h.i.+p.

But all was safe.