_ CHAPTER EIGHT
I should spin far too long a yarn were I to describe the various actions in which we were engaged, or even mention the different ships to which we belonged. Both Harry and Reginald Leslie had now passed for lieutenants--indeed they had been for some time doing duty as such. Of course they could have done very well without me, but hitherto, thanks to Captain Leslie, we had always been appointed to the same ship.
The last time we were at home, Harry had become a greater favourite than ever with the captain's family. Of course the brave way in which he had saved Reginald at Toulon, at the risk of his own life, was well known. Though he himself might not have talked much about it, Reginald had given a full account of all that had happened. With Susan and me, Harry was just the same as he had always been. One thing we discovered, that he had given his heart to Miss Fanny, and it was Susan's belief that she had given hers in return. We saw no harm in this, though we thought it better not to talk to him about it; but I had a notion that the captain did not suspect the true state of the case. Both Harry and I were anxious to hear from Jerry, but day after day passed by, and no letter came from him; I was expecting to be sent off to sea, and so were the young gentlemen. Harry, I suspect, was in no hurry to go; and Reginald, who generally took things easy, was happy with his family, and was thankful to stop on shore for a spell. Still the accounts which we read in the papers, of the gallant actions fought, made us before long wish to be afloat again. We were reading, I remember, an account of Sir Sidney Smith's brave defence of Acre against Buonaparte, whom he compelled to raise the siege.
"I wish that I had been there!" exclaimed Harry. "Captain Leslie says we ought to be afloat again, and it's right, I know, though home is very pleasant. We are sure, if we go, to obtain our promotion before long, and once lieutenants, if we have luck, we shall soon win our next step; till I get that, I feel too sure that I shall have no chance of gaining the object nearest my heart."
"What is that, Harry?" I asked.
"Perhaps I ought to have told you before, father; but the secret was not mine alone," was the answer.
Harry then told me what I suspected long ago, that he had set his heart on marrying Miss Fanny Leslie.
"I hope you have not told her so, my boy," I said; "the captain would not approve of it."
"Yes, father, I have though," he answered; "and she has promised to marry me if her parents will allow her."
"I am very sorry to hear this, for one thing, Harry," I said; "I fear it will cause you and her much disappointment and sorrow. The captain is very kind; he wishes you well, but he is proud of his family; and he will not allow his daughter to marry a man about whose birth he knows nothing, and who has no fortune. He will also be vexed to find that his daughter has engaged herself without first consulting him and her mother."
"But we have known each other from childhood, and he always encouraged me to come to the house," pleaded Harry; "and so Fanny thinks that he will not object to me."
"It's my belief he never thought such a thing possible," I observed; "I daresay he will blame himself when he finds it out, but that won't make him excuse you. I wish you would tell Miss Fanny what I say. The best thing you can now do is to set each other free; and if she remains unmarried, and you obtain your promotion and discover that you are of a family to which her father would not object, you can then come forward openly and claim her."
This, I am sure, was good advice.
"But, father, I cannot say this to Fanny; she would think me hard-hearted and that I did not really love her," said Harry.
"If she trusts you, and is a sensible girl, she will see that you are acting rightly," I answered. "Do what is right, and trust that all will come well in the end. That is a sound maxim, depend on it."
Harry at last replied that he would think over what I had said.
The next day he told me that he had spoken to Miss Fanny, who, though it made her very unhappy, had at last acknowledged that I was right, and consented to do as I had advised; assuring him, however, that she would never change. I was thankful to hear this, as it saved me from speaking to the captain, which I should have otherwise felt bound to do.
A few days after this I received orders to join the _Vestal_ frigate; and though neither I nor they expected it, Reginald and Harry were appointed as master's mates to the same ship. I had to go on board at once, and they joined a few days afterwards. We were ordered to fit out with all despatch, and were quickly ready for sea.
I felt sorry at having to leave without again hearing from Jerry, for of course I could not tell what might happen to me; and there was nothing I more desired, for Harry's sake, than to find out who his parents had been. When I thought what a fine, handsome, gallant young fellow he was, I could not help hoping that he would have no reason to be ashamed of them. At all events, he would not be worse off than he was; and supposing that, after all, his birth was not such as he could boast of, he might still win a name for himself, as many another officer had done, who had, as the saying is, "gone in through the hawse-hole," just as the renowned Captain Cook and several of our bravest captains and admirals had done.
We had gone out to Spithead, and "Blue Peter" was flying from the fore, when who should come alongside in a boat from Ryde but Susan herself. I had bidden her good-bye, and did not expect to see her again.
"I have brought a letter," she said; "and as it is from Jerry, I did not like to trust it to anyone else."
She had just given it to me, when I received the order to "Pipe up anchor"; so all I could do was to shove it into my pocket, while Susan hurried down the side without knowing its contents. This was very trying to her, and I wished that she had looked at it before bringing it off.
When a ship is making sail, the boatswain has more to do than anybody else, and some hours passed before I could get to my cabin and break the seal; it was, as Susan supposed, from Jerry. Having it still by me, I give it in his own words:--
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"Dear old Ship,--I am comfortably moored at last in a cottage of my own, with a small independence left me by my father--more than I deserved. I might have had it years ago, if my good sister Mary and her husband, Mr Pengelley, had known where to find me. I had been here some time before I could make up my mind to let Mary know who I was. Instead of giving me the cold shoulder, bless her heart, she welcomed me at once, and I have been as happy as the day is long ever since, except when I think of the past and my own folly; but as it does me no good dwelling on that, I try to forget it. Mr Pengelley is a lawyer, and lawyers, as you know, hear a good many things. One day I told him about Harry; he had never heard of a child being saved from the wreck of the _Royal George_, nor had any people about here that I can make out. The next day he told me that he had been thinking over the matter, and asked me if I had ever in my wanderings been to the house of an old Mr Hayward, living some miles off. I remembered not only the house, which is a very solitary one, half a mile or more from any highroad, but the old gentleman himself, and a lady whom I heard was his widowed daughter. She spoke to me kindly when I first went there, and said that she loved sailors, and wanted to hear all about the sea. She invited me into the house, and gave me a good dinner, and begged that I would look in whenever I came that way. I went several times. Though she was every inch a lady, I saw no servant in the house, and guessed that she took care of the old gentleman; indeed it was evident that their means were very scanty. She must have been very pretty in her youth, but care and sorrow had left their traces on her countenance; and I remembered, too, that she was always dressed in black. 'I will tell you her history,' said Mr Pengelley. 'Her father, Mr Hayward, was once a flourishing merchant at Bristol, and she, his only daughter, was looked upon as his heiress. A young naval officer, Henry Stafford, met her at Bath, where she was staying with some friends; they fell in love with each other, and were engaged to marry as soon as he got his promotion, for he was then only a mate in the service. He and his only sister, Emily, lived with their widowed mother at the same place. Henry had good prospects, for he was heir to his uncle Sir Mostyn Stafford, of an old and very proud family, who had an estate in the neighbouring county. When the baronet heard that his nephew was about to marry without consulting him, he was very indignant, and declared that if he persisted in connecting himself with a family which he looked upon as inferior to his own, he would stop the allowance he now made him, and not leave him a penny beyond the title and estate, from which he could not cut him off. Henry did not believe that his uncle would, or indeed could, act as he threatened. He would possibly have, at all events, deferred his marriage; but going one day to see Miss Hayward, he found her in great distress. She then told him that her father was on the point of failing, and wished her to marry a man of large means, who would help him out of his difficulties. On this, Henry Stafford, fearing that he should lose her altogether, persuaded her to run off with him, promising to raise money, as he thought he could, to assist her father. They married, and Henry, who was the idol of his mother, took his young wife to live with her and his sister. He soon discovered that he was utterly unable to help Mr Hayward as he intended; and though the merchant was at first much annoyed at his daughter's clandestine marriage, he was quickly reconciled to her, especially when she told him of Harry's intentions. He soon afterwards failed, when, without making any attempt to retrieve his fortunes, he went to live at the retired house where he still resides. When Sir Mostyn Stafford heard that his nephew had actually married, he was highly incensed, and carried out his threats, depriving even Mrs Stafford of a portion of her income over which he had power. As he was not a badly-disposed man, I believe that he would not have acted thus severely towards his nephew and sister-in-law had he not been greatly influenced by a cousin of his, Biddulph Stafford, who was heir to the estate after Henry. Biddulph Stafford's whole soul was set on making money, and he had been heard to express his satisfaction when war broke out, as Harry was in the navy, that the enemy's shot might give him possession of the estate and title. His vexation and disappointment was therefore very great when young Mrs Stafford gave birth to a son, and from that moment he had redoubled his efforts to induce the baronet to take harsher measures towards his nephew. Harry was compelled to go to sea as the only means of finding support for his young wife and child. He had been afloat about a year or more, when Mr Hayward fell ill, and his daughter hurried off to see him, leaving her child in charge of Mrs Stafford and Emily. What Biddulph Stafford's object was I don't know, but, being well informed of all that occurred, he persuaded Sir Mostyn to offer not only to restore to Mrs Stafford her income, but to increase it, provided she would consent not again to receive her daughter-in-law, and to bring up the child herself. This was a hard trial to the poor young mother, but she could not hold out when old Mrs Stafford persuaded her son to consent to the arrangement under the belief that it was likely to prove advantageous to the boy. Both Mrs Stafford and her daughter had, however, cause to regret this arrangement, for they found that they were constantly watched, they believed, by some agent of Biddulph, and they were persuaded his object was to get possession of the child; however, by constant vigilance, they were able to defeat it. Now comes the mysterious part of the business. Old Mrs Stafford, who had been for some time in declining health, died; and the day after her funeral Emily and the child disappeared. The idea was that either Biddulph had won her over, or that she, frightened by his threats, had gone off secretly to escape from him, thinking that by some means or other he would get hold of the boy. The latter opinion I believe to be the true one; indeed, Biddulph Stafford, having been seen at Bath the day before, it is possible that he might have followed Emily, and by some means or other got possession of the child--perhaps have carried the aunt and her nephew off abroad. That there was foul play no one doubted. Young Mrs Stafford was as much in the dark as anyone; she had not heard from Emily, nor had she been aware of her intention of leaving Bath. Living so completely out of the world as she did, it was not till some time after that she heard her child and sister-in-law were missing. When the account of the loss of the _Royal George_ reached her, she knew that it was the ship aboard which her husband was serving, and she was for some days left in doubt whether he was among the many who perished or the few which escaped. In vain she waited to hear from him; at last she saw his name among the list of those who were lost. It was a wonder that she did not sink under her misfortunes, and she would probably have done so had she not undertaken the sacred task of watching over her invalid father. Another strange circumstance occurred: Biddulph Stafford, who knew all along where she was living, unexpectedly called on her, and expressed the greatest sympathy with her at the loss of her husband, and offered to assist her in obtaining a portion of the subscriptions raised for the widows of those who perished. She, knowing less about him than her sister-in-law did, accepted his offer. He assured her also that he had made every inquiry for Emily and the little boy, but could not trace in what direction they had gone. It was remarkable that all the information she obtained about the wreck of the _Royal George_ was from her cousin, and he seems thoroughly to have won her confidence by his apparently frank and pleasing manners.'"
"Such was the account I received from Mr Pengelley. I wish I could tell you more; but I cannot help thinking that something will come of it, and you may depend on me for doing my best to ferret out the truth, as I think you may also on my good brother-in-law. Good-bye for the present, Ben; I don't know whether it will be wise to tell this to your young friend."
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I thought the matter over, and at last resolved to make a copy of the letter, and to give it, sealed up, into Harry's keeping. I did so, charging him not to open it, except in the case of my death. Recollecting Susan's natural curiosity to know the contents of the letter, and also in case the original and the first copy should be lost, I made a second, which I sent on shore at Falmouth, charging Susan not to show it to anyone. I also wrote to Jerry, thanking him for his exertions, and begging him to send Susan all the information he could collect.
We had been at sea some time, and had taken a French privateer and three Spanish merchantmen, though we had met with no enemy which offered opposition. We were cruising in the Bay of Biscay, when one evening, Cape Ortegal bearing south-west, distant eight or nine leagues, we discovered a large fleet to windward, which our captain believed consisted of Spanish merchant vessels under convoy of some men-of-war.
"We will pick up some of those fellows before long," he exclaimed; and we stood towards the enemy. As we drew near we made out five frigates and two men-of-war brigs, with full eighty merchant vessels, steering to the northward, having apparently come from Cadiz. In spite of their number, our captain kept to his resolution of attacking them, and stood on till we weathered the leading frigate, which was ahead and some distance from the convoy. The darkness of night had come on when we got up alongside the enemy. Our captain hailed and asked her name. The answer was--
"The Spanish frigate _Ceres_."
"Then strike your colours," cried our captain.
The enemy did not obey the order, and we immediately poured a broadside into her. The Spaniards returned it, doing us little damage. While we were loading our guns, to give her a second dose, she put up her helm, and endeavoured to join her consorts to leeward. We immediately kept away and engaged her to leeward, and in about twenty minutes we had silenced her fire, having had only a couple of men hit; we were about to take possession, when we saw the other four frigates close to us. While hauling up, to avoid being raked by the leading frigate which had opened her fire on us, we fell aboard her, carrying away her main-topsail-yard. We had handled her pretty roughly, when two more frigates coming up, one on each side of us, we kept blazing away at both of them, till the fourth arrived, followed by the two brigs. We were now surrounded by more enemies than even our fire-eating captain thought it prudent to contend with. However, either the Spaniards forgot to put shot in their guns, or fired them wildly, for we received but little damage, only two more men having been hit; we quickly hauled to the wind and stood out from among them, unharmed, although they were blazing away as fast as they could get their guns to bear on us. We then steered for a part of the convoy which had been somewhat scattered during the action, and succeeded in cutting off a large brig; but as the frigates were close upon our heels, we had only time to send a couple of boats on board, under the command of Harry and Mr Leslie, who, having taken out her crew, set her on fire fore and aft. So rapidly had they executed their orders, that they were back again in a little more than five minutes, and we again made all sail, just as the four Spanish frigates coming up got us within range of their guns. As we had no longer any chance of capturing either of them, we continued our course, and soon ran them out of sight, they evidently having no inclination to follow us. Though it was not to be compared to our escape from Toulon, still it was a dashing piece of business, which required good seamanship to accomplish, and I therefore think it worthy of being mentioned.
Both Harry and Reginald were naturally anxious to do something to distinguish themselves, by which they might make sure of their promotion. They had behaved admirably on every occasion, and all they wanted was the opportunity which, as is well known, does not fall to the lot of every man.
We had been cruising in the northern part of the Bay of Biscay, when, standing towards Brest, we made out under the batteries in Camaret Bay a brig-of-war at anchor, with springs on her cable. One of our lieutenants was ill, and another away in a prize. Harry, to his great satisfaction, having got leave to lead an expedition to cut her out, asked for me to accompany him; Reginald had command of one boat, and a midshipman had charge of a third. We knew that there were several ships-of-war at anchor scarcely a mile off, which might have sent their boats to stop us if they had known what we were about. We stood inshore as soon as it was dark, and when about two miles from the place hove-to. The boats were lowered, and we shoved off. Harry and I were in the cutter, a fast-pulling boat, and kept ahead of the other two boats. We could tell the position of the brig by the lights on shore, and, after a hard pull, we caught sight of her. We guessed by the sounds that reached us that her crew were at quarters, but, though the other boats were still some way astern, Harry was eager to board at once; we made for her quarter, and hooking on, we sprang over her bulwarks with our cutlasses in hand. The Frenchmen made a desperate rush at us; I looked round, but nowhere could I see Harry. The next instant I found myself hurled back into the boat among several of our men who had boarded with me. I sang out for Harry, but he was not in the boat, and I feared that he had been cut down; just then I heard his voice, and found that he had sprung into a trawl-net which hung over the brig's quarter. We made another attempt to gain the deck, and kept back the Frenchmen; while Harry extricated himself, with the help of two of the men, from his dangerous position, and leapt back into the boat, into which we were again driven.
"Haul the boat more ahead, and we will try it again!" he shouted out.
Though I had had a thrust with a pike in my side, and I guessed that several other men were wounded, not being aware, however, that Harry himself had been hurt, we again sprang on board. I kept close to him this time, and warded off a heavy blow aimed at his head; pistols were flashed in our faces, pikes thrust at us, and cutlasses were whirled round our heads, and again we were driven back with more men hurt, while I had received another wound from a cutlass. I began to fear that we should not succeed. It was but for a moment. Harry's voice cheered me up:--
"At them again, lads!" he shouted; and once more we sprang up the side, cutting down every one of the Frenchmen within reach of our weapons. Six or eight of us having gained the deck, the rest followed; and charging the Frenchmen we drove them aft, killing or wounding everyone who attempted to withstand us. In less than three minutes the brig was ours, and the enemy cried out for quarter, even before the other two boats came up. The men in them not required at the oars jumped on board to assist in securing the prisoners, the cable was cut, and, while we were making sail, the boats took the prize in tow; and before the people in the forts knew what had happened, we were standing away from the land. We found that six Frenchmen had been killed, and twenty wounded, some of them pretty badly. We had lost one man, and eight of us were wounded, Harry in two places, and I in no less than six. As soon as we got the breeze, we took the boats in tow, and stood towards the frigate. The captain was highly pleased at the success of the enterprise, and told Harry that he might be sure of his promotion.
We had been on the point of returning home, and we now made the best of our way with our prize up Channel. I was not aware, till the doctor came to overhaul me, how much I had been hurt, and the next day I was unable to leave my cabin. Harry, who had the cabin of the absent lieutenant, was also confined to his. As soon as he could, he came to see me.
"I would willingly have been much more hurt rather than have missed taking the prize," he said, after he had inquired how I was getting on. "I hope that Captain Leslie will at least see that I am worth something."
"No doubt about that, Harry," I answered. "You did well, and I am proud of you; still be wise, and don't presume on what you have done."
I don't think Harry quite liked my advice; however, he said nothing. I think that Reginald must have been a little jealous of him, though it was not his fault that he had not been up in time to board the brig before we had possession of her; at all events, he did not show what he felt, and spoke as if he admired Harry more than ever.
As soon as we arrived at Spithead, Harry, Reginald, and I got leave to go on shore; Harry had by this time nearly recovered, but the doctor said that I must not expect to be fit for duty for many weeks to come. Reginald at once went home, and Harry accompanied me. If nobody else was proud of him, Susan at all events was, and I had good reason to be thankful that I had such a wife to look after me. The same evening Reginald came down and begged Harry to come to the house, as his father and mother and all the ladies were anxious to see him. Reginald had been giving a full account of Harry's gallantry, and I suspect from what Susan heard, that Miss Fanny had somewhat betrayed her feelings. Harry came back in high spirits, accompanied by Reginald, to help him along; I was altogether laid up, and, though Harry could not walk far, he managed to get every day to the captain's house. In less than ten days he received his commission as lieutenant.
"I knew you would!" I exclaimed as he held it up proudly to me. "All you wanted was the opportunity, and you got that."
"I hope that Reginald will get his too!" he exclaimed, "for he deserves it, as he would have done the same had he had the chance I got. I must go up to the captain's, and tell them," he said.
"I was on the point of cautioning him about his behaviour to Miss Fanny, but I had not the heart just then to do it, he looked so proud and happy. Off he went, and didn't come back till late in the evening, as he had been asked to stop and dine. Next day he had to go over to Portsmouth to order his uniform.
"I must go up and see Miss Fanny first," he said; "she told me that the captain spoke so highly of me that she is satisfied he would not object to our marriage. I shall have, as you know, a good share of prize-money, and we think that we shall have enough to keep house; so she was to tell the captain this morning, and we hope to have it all settled.
"I don't like to damp your spirits, Harry," I said, "but, my dear boy, don't be too sure; the captain could do nothing else than speak highly of your conduct; but that makes me think, as I have all along, that he never dreamt of his daughter and you falling in love with each other. However, you are bound to go up and hear what he has to say, and if he is not pleased, don't show any anger, but say that you will wait patiently till you have gained another step in rank, or have discovered who are your parents; and that if it should be proved that your family is not inferior to his, that you hope he will then withdraw any objections he may at present entertain."
"I trust that I shall not have to say that," answered Harry; "I would rather be accepted on my own merits."
"So you are by the young lady; and that is the chief matter. Parents are apt to look at things in a different light to young people," I observed.
Susan and I sat anxiously waiting Harry's return. I forgot to say that I had been hoping, day after day, to hear from Jerry, and had written telling him of Harry's gallantry, and that he and I were at home again. I had, however, received no answer. Harry had been absent fully three hours. I saw, as soon as he appeared, that all had not gone well. He threw himself into a chair. Susan waited for him to speak. At last she said, in her gentle way--
"I am afraid, dear Harry, that the captain does not see things in the light you expected."
"No, mother, he does not," he answered. "He spoke as if he wished to be as kind as possible, but what he said went to my heart.
"'I have regarded you with sincere affection, having known you from your childhood, and as the friend of my son,' he began; 'but I did not expect that you would have thus returned any service I may have rendered you. I have been wrong, I confess, to permit the intimacy which has existed between you and all the members of my family; but I tell you at once that I have an insuperable objection to any one of my daughters marrying a man whose family is unknown to me. For yourself I shall always entertain the truest regard, and I must beg you to receive this answer as final. Though Mrs Leslie and I shall regret the loss of your society, you will see that, under the circumstances, it is better that you should not again come to my house.'"
"I tried to argue the point, and spoke to the captain as you advised, father; but all I said had no effect, and showed me he had made up his mind how to act. He would not even allow me to see Fanny; and from being the happiest of human beings, I am now one of the most miserable."
Susan and I did what we could to comfort Harry, though without much avail. I was therefore thankful when the next day a letter from the Admiralty came appointing him as third lieutenant to the _Vestal_, and directing him to join at once. Reginald came down immediately afterwards, as he had also been ordered to join his ship; and he proposed that they should go over to Portsmouth that afternoon. Harry agreed; and though Susan and I were sorry to lose him so suddenly, we saw that it was the best thing he could do.
A week afterwards the _Vestal_ sailed down Channel, and, judging by Harry's last letter, I hoped that he had somewhat regained his spirits. _