Chapter 22

Cheer succeeded cheer from his sailors. Caps were thrown into the air, or overboard. Jackets were tossed aside. Now, certain of victory, the men were shouting wildly, as each projectile took effect.

"That's a good one!"

"Down, boys, down!"

"Give her another like the last!"

"Now--we have her!"

The vessels continued to swing around each other in wide circles, and--at this moment--a sixty-eight pound Blakely shell passed through the starboard bulwarks of the _Kearsarge_ below the main rigging, exploded on the quarter-deck, and wounded three of the crew of the after pivot-gun. The three unfortunate men were speedily taken below, but the act was done so quietly, that--at the termination of the fight--a large number of the crew were unaware that any of their comrades were injured.

Two shots now crashed through the port-holes occupied by the thirty-two pounders; one exploded in the hammock-netting; the other shrieked through the opposite port; yet no one was hurt. Fire blazed from the deck; the alarm calling for fire-quarters was sounded, and the men who had been detailed for this emergency put it out. The rest stayed at the guns.

The eleven-inch shells were doing terrible execution upon the quarter-deck of the _Alabama_. Three of them crashed into the eight-inch pivot-gun port; the first swept off the forward part of the gun's crew; the second killed one man and wounded several others; the third struck the breast of the gun-carriage and spun around on the deck until one of the men picked it up and threw it overboard. The ship was careening heavily to starboard, while the decks were covered with the dead and dying. A shell plunged into the coal bunker and a dense cloud of coal dust arose. Crippled and torn, the hulking privateer began to settle by the stern. Her guns still spat and growled, and her broadsides were going wild. She was fast weakening.

"Any one who silences that after pivot-gun will get one hundred dollars!" cried Captain Semmes, as he saw the fearful accuracy of its fire.

_Crash!_ a whole broadside from the privateer spat at this particular piece. It was in vain.

Around and around circled the belching _Kearsarge_. Seven times she had swooped about the weakening gladiator of the sea, and her fire was more and more accurate. She was like a great eagle closing in for a deaththrust. Captain Semmes was in a desperate situation.

"Hoist the fore-trysail and jibs!" he called out above the din of cannon. "Head for the French coast!"

As the sailors scrambled to obey, the _Alabama_ presented her port battery to the _Kearsarge_. She showed gaping sides and only two guns were bearing.

At this moment the chief engineer came up on the deck of the privateer.

"The fires are all out and the engines will not work!" he reported to Captain Semmes.

The doughty seaman turned to his chief executive officer, Mr. Kell.

"Go below, sir," he shouted, "and see how long the ship can float!"

In a few moments the sailor had returned from his inspection.

"Captain!" cried he, saluting. "She will not stay on the sea for ten minutes."

The face of the Confederate was ashen, as he answered,

"Then, sir, cease firing, shorten sail, and haul down the colors. It will never do in this Nineteenth Century for us to go down with the decks covered with our gallant wounded!"

As he ceased speaking, a broadside roared from the side of his sinking vessel. The ensign of the _Kearsarge_ had been stopped (rolled up and tied with a piece of twine) and, as a shell crashed through her rigging, a piece hit the flag-halyards--parted them--and unstopped the flag. It unfurled itself gallantly in the breeze, and, as its beautiful striping waved aloft, the sailors upon the deck gave a loud cheer, for this was the omen of Victory.

At this moment, two of the junior officers upon the _Alabama_ swore that they would never surrender, and, in a spirit of mutiny, rushed to the two port guns and opened fire upon the Union vessel.

"He is playing us a trick!" shouted Winslow. "Give him another broadside!"

Again the shot and shell went crashing through the sides of the Confederate cruiser. The _Kearsarge_ was laid across her bows for raking, and, in a position to use grape and canister.

A white flag was then shown over the stern of the _Alabama_ and her ensign was half-masted; Union down.

"Cease firing!" shouted Captain Winslow.

The great fight was over. It had lasted one hour and two minutes.

_Chugety, plug, splash!_ The boats were lowered from the _Alabama_, and her Master's mate rowed to the _Kearsarge_, with a few of his wounded.

"We are sinking," said he. "You must come and help us!"

"Does Captain Semmes surrender his ship?" asked Winslow.

"Yes!"

"All right. Then I'll help you!"

Fullam grinned.

"May I return with this boat and crew in order to rescue the drowning?" he asked. "I pledge you my word of honor that I will then come on board and surrender."

Captain Winslow granted his request.

With less generosity, the victorious Commander could have detained the officers and men, supplied their places with his own sailors, and offered equal aid to the distressed. His generosity was abused. Fullam pulled to the midst of the drowning; rescued several officers; went to the yacht _Deerhound_, and cast his boat adrift; leaving a number of men struggling in the water.

The _Alabama_ was settling fast.

"All hands overboard!" cried Mr. Kell. "Let every man grab a life-preserver, or a spar."

As the sailors plunged into the sea, Captain Semmes dropped his sword into the waves and leaped outward, with a life-preserver around his waist. Kell followed, while the _Alabama_ launched her bows high in the air, and--graceful, even in her death throes--plunged stern-foremost into the deep. A sucking eddy of foam, spars, and wreckage marked where once had floated the gallant ship.

Thus sank the terror of the merchantmen--riddled through and through--and no cheer arose as her battered hulk went down in forty-five fathoms of water. Her star had set.

The _Deerhound_ had kept about a mile to windward of the two contestants, but she now steamed towards the mass of living heads, which dotted the surface of the sea. Her two boats were lowered, and Captain Semmes was picked up and taken aboard, with forty others. She then edged to the leeward and steamed rapidly away.

An officer quickly approached Captain Winslow.

"Better fire a shot at the yacht," he said, saluting. "She's got Captain Semmes aboard and will run off with him."

Winslow smiled.

"It's impossible," said he. "She's simply coming around!"

But the _Deerhound_ kept on.

Another officer approached the commander of the _Kearsarge_.

"That beastly yacht is carrying off our men," said he. "Better bring her to, Captain!"

"No Englishman who carries the flag of the Royal Yacht Squadron can so act!" Winslow replied,--somewhat pettishly. "She's simply coming around."

But she never "came around," and Captain Raphael Semmes was soon safe upon British soil. He had fought a game fight. The superior gunnery of the sailors of the _Kearsarge_ had been too much for him. Nine of his crew were dead and twenty-one wounded, while the _Kearsarge_ had no one killed and but three wounded; one of whom died shortly afterwards.

Thus,--the lesson is:

If you want to win: Learn how to shoot straight!

* * * * *

Captain Raphael Semmes died quietly at Mobile, Alabama, August 30th, 1877. His ill-fated _Alabama_ had inflicted a loss of over seven million dollars upon the commerce of the United States.

A number of wise men met, many years afterwards, in Geneva, Switzerland, and decided, that, as the British Government had allowed this vessel to leave their shores, when warned by the American minister of her character and intention to go privateering, it should therefore pay for all the vessels which the graceful cruiser had destroyed. England had broken the neutrality laws.

John Bull paid up.

But, --Boys-- it hurt!

EL CAPITAN

"There was a Captain-General who ruled in Vera Cruz, And what we used to hear of him was always evil news: He was a pirate on the sea--a robber on the shore, The Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.

"There was a Yankee skipper who round about did roam; His name was Stephen Folger,--Nantucket was his home: And having sailed to Vera Cruz, he had been _skinned_ full sore By the Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.

"But having got away alive, though all his cash was gone, He said, 'If there is vengeance, I will surely try it on! And I do wish that I may be hung,--if I don't clear the score With Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.'

"He shipped a crew of seventy men--well-armed men were they, And sixty of them in the hold he darkly stowed away; And, sailing back to Vera Cruz, was sighted from the shore By the Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.

"With twenty-five soldados, he came on board, so pleased, And said '_Maldito_, Yankee,--again your ship is seized. How many sailors have you got?' Said Folger, 'Ten--no more,' To the Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.

"'But come into my cabin and take a glass of wine, I do suppose, as usual, I'll have to pay a fine: I've got some old Madeira, and we'll talk the matter o'er-- My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.'

"And, as over the Madeira the Captain-General boozed, It seemed to him as if his head were getting quite confused; For, it happened that some morphine had travelled from 'the Store' To the glass of Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.

"'What is it makes the vessel roll? What sounds are these I hear? It seems as if the rising waves were beating on my ear!' 'Oh, it is the breaking of the surf--just that, and nothing more, My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador!'

"The Governor was in a sleep, which muddled up his brains; The seventy men had caught his 'gang' and put them all in chains; And, when he woke the following day, he could not see the shore, For he was away out on the sea--the Don San Salvador.

"'Now do you see the yard-arm--and understand the thing?' Said rough, old Folger, viciously--'for this is where you'll swing, Or forty thousand dollars you shall pay me from your store, My Captain Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador!'

"The Captain he took up a pen--the order he did sign-- 'O my, but Senor Yankee! You charge great guns for wine!' Yet it was not until the draft was paid, they let him go ashore, El Senor Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador.

* * * * *

"The greater sharp will some day find another sharper wit; It always makes the Devil laugh to see a biter bit; It takes two Spaniards, any day, to comb a Yankee o'er-- Even two like Don Alonzo Estaban San Salvador."

RETROSPECT

The curtain falls, the plays are done, To roar of shell and shock of gun; The scuttled shipping bobs and sways, In grime and muck of shallow bays. The tattered ensigns mould'ring lie, As diving otters bark and cry; While--in the lee of crumbling piers, The rotting hulk its decking rears. Gray, screaming kestrels wheel and sheer, Above the wasted steering gear. In moulding kelp and mackerel's sheen, The blighted log-book hides unseen. Red flash the beams of northern blaze. Through beaded clouds of Elmo's haze; While dim, unkempt, the ghostly crew Float by, and chant the lesson true!

Sons of the fog-bound Northland; sons of the blinding seas, If ye would cherish the trust which your fathers left, Ye must strive--ye must work--without ease. Strong have your good sires battled, oft have your fathers bled, If ye would hold up the flag which they've never let sag, Ye must plod--ye must creep where they've led. The shimmering icebergs call you; the plunging screw-drums scream, By shallowing shoals they haul you, to the beat of the walking beam. The twisting petrels chatter, as ye drift by the waiting fleet, In your towering grim, gray Dreadnought,--a king who sneers at defeat. While the silken pennons flutter; as the frozen halyards strain; Comes the growling old-world mutter, the voice of the million slain:

_Keep to your manly war games; keep to your warrior's play._ _Though the dove of peace is dancing to the sounding truce harp's lay._ _Arbitrate if you have to; smooth it o'er if you must,_ _But, be prepared for battle, to parry the war king's thrust._ _Don't foster the chip on the shoulder; don't hasten the slap in the face._ _But, burnish your sword, ere you're older,--the blade of the ancient race._ _Hark to the deeds of your fathers; cherish the stories I've told,_ _Then--go and do like, if you have to--and die--like a Hero of Old._

Transcriber's Note

Punctuation errors have been repaired. Hyphenation has been made consistent within the main text. There is some archaic and variable spelling, which has been preserved as printed.

The following amendments have also been made:

Page 3--repeated book title deleted.

Page 77--omitted word 'to' added after row--"... jumped into two small wherries in order to row to the lugger."

Page 156--pedlers amended to peddlers--"There are tinkers, tailors, haymakers, peddlers, fiddlers, ..."

Page 178--Huzza amended to Huzzah--""... Huzzah for Fortunatus Wright!""

Page 226--envolle amended to envole--""Sapristi! L'oiseau s'est envole.""

Page 248--manoever amended to manoeuver--"... had simply followed my manoeuver of wearing around under easy helm ..."

Illustrations have been moved slightly where necessary so that they are not in the middle of a paragraph. The frontispiece and advertising matter have been moved to follow the title page.