CHAPTER X.

AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER.

About a week after this Dicky was told by his friend Jenkins, the boatswain’s mate, that he would be needed that night to pilot the way to his mother’s cottage. Dicky grinned with delight and could hardly wait until night came. At last, after the longest day he ever spent, eight o’clock arrived. Jenkins called him and, in company with eight sailors and Mr. Dobell, they dropped into one of the ship’s boats alongside; and, pulling with a steady man-’o-war’s stroke, soon reached a lonely spot on the shore near the Widow Stubbs’ cottage and silently took their march up the rocky path, Dicky leading to show them the way.

Arrived at the cottage they peered through the window and saw Jack Bell sitting alone and dismally before the fire, smoking as usual. The Widow Stubbs was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Dobell, noticing Jack’s brawny figure and hale and hearty countenance, was more than ever in favor of having him among the Raleigh’s crew. He directed Dicky to knock at the door, and Jack opened it, whereupon Mr. Dobell and Dicky walked in, leaving the eight sailors to watch outside.

Jack Bell recognized Dicky at once by the light of the spluttering pine logs, and after a moment of hesitation rose and saluted Mr. Dobell.

The officer returned the salute and then said in a jovial voice:—

“Do you want to know what we came for? Well, I’ll tell you. We know that you are a first-class sailor and a good man, and we want just such brave fellows on the Raleigh; and, as I hear you promised Captain Forrester not to enlist in the American navy, we concluded we’d get you by other means. So come along quietly with me, or I’ll call in eight men I have outside and take you.”

For a minute Jack Bell’s face was a study. He saw the whole scheme, and the struggle between his delight and his sense of duty to his promise was plain. After a moment he spoke, saluting again as he did so.

“Sir,” said he, “I’m a uneddicated man, and maybe that’s why it is I don’t always know what my duty is—but I want to do it if I can find it out. Now, I don’t go for to say as I don’t want to be took—God knows I do—but I hadn’t oughter give in without a fight—and if you’ll jist let me square off and make a fight agin them eight chaps ’twould make me easy in my mind.”

“You won’t stand much of a show, my man,” replied Mr. Dobell, laughing at Jack’s simplicity but respecting it, “so you might as well give in.”

“One moment, sir,” asked Jack. “I don’t like to have no fightin’ in a respectable widder woman’s house like this ’ere”—

“Can’t help that,” said Mr. Dobell, still laughing; and stepping to the door he motioned to the men outside and eight stalwart sailors marched in.

“Boys,” said Jack, “I ain’t sayin’ you won’t git me, but I think it’s my duty to give you all the trouble I can, so I’ll just take this poker”—

Jack reached forward and was about to seize the poker, when Dicky, as active as a cat, whisked it out of the way. The next weapon at hand was a stool, but before Jack could get hold of it Mr. Dobell gave it a kick which sent it flying. The sailors closed in with a rush, but Jack, with his stout arms swinging around like a Dutch windmill, laid more than one of them low before he was overpowered. The struggle was short and sharp, and in a minute or two Jack’s arms were pinioned by a couple of grinning sailors, while two that he had floored were scrambling to their feet.

“Sir,” said Jack to Mr. Dobell, “I calls you to witness that I made a fight for my promise, and I axes you to give me your word in writin’ as how I was took by force.”

“I will,” answered Mr. Dobell, “and I think you have barked the shins and blacked the eyes of two of my men, so come along. You, boy, remain here until your mother comes to explain affairs to her.”

Jack was carried on board the Raleigh and in due course of time was offered his choice by Captain Thompson of enlisting or being put in irons.

“If you please, sir,” said Jack respectfully, “now as you’ve took me I’ve got to sarve, but I’d ruther not be on the ship’s books.”

“Of course,” answered Captain Thompson, “I would enlist you under another name.”

“’Tain’t that, sir,” said Jack. “I’m willin’ to sarve for my vittles and does, but I don’t want no pay and no prize money, because I want to let Cap’n Forrester know some day as I didn’t break my word and I didn’t make nothin’ out of bein’ took, and I ax you to make a note in writin’ and give it to me.”

This the captain agreed to do, and Jack, with his testimony from Mr. Dobell and that from the captain stored away in his ditty box, took his place among the ship’s crew with a goodwill and the happiest heart in the world. Captain Thompson, moreover, to ease Jack’s mind still further, gave orders that he was to be watched and on no account to be given liberty to go ashore, so that even had he wished to run away he would have found it impossible; and within a week the Raleigh had tripped her anchor and was off for a cruise along the southern coast. Never were there two happier human beings than Jack Bell and Dicky Stubbs. Dicky, it is true, occasionally felt down-hearted when he thought how lonely his mother must be, but he chose rather to think of the joy of meeting her again, and determined to try meanwhile and lead the life his mother would wish him to lead. Jack kept a sharp eye on him and if he showed any slight inclination to do what was not perfectly correct, or to shirk his work, Jack would bring him up with a round turn. So, what with a naturally good disposition and a wholesome restraint and discipline Dicky was both a good and a useful boy. His singing made him universally popular on board, and he was often sent for in the long evenings to sing to the officers in the ward room and even to the captain in the cabin. As for the fok’sle, Dicky could easily have got all of his work done in exchange for his singing, which was a great diversion, particularly when one of the petty officers taught him to scrape a little on the violin. But Jack Bell was always at hand to make him do his full share and more of all there was to do—in which Jack proved himself to be Dicky’s best friend. The story of the song about General Prescott had got abroad in the ship and Dicky was incessantly chaffed about it.

Jack had been a signal man for many years in the British navy and amused his leisure time while cruising by making a tolerably complete set of signal flags to use in an emergency. Dicky, who would much rather have been singing and fiddling than sewing, was nevertheless made to help Jack, and the two passed many hours sitting together on the gun deck stitching away industriously.

“I wonder what mammy’ll say when she finds I can play the fiddle,” Dicky would ask with boyish conceit.

“Dunno,” Jack would answer, slyly chaffing Dicky, “but I reckon she’ll be mightily pleased when she finds you can sew up a pair o’ breeches as good as any tailor man as ever set cross-legged.”

“But I ain’t a-goin’ to do no sewin’ when I’m ashore,” cried Dicky, his dignity much wounded. “I only do it now because I’m obliged to, and mammy won’t ask or expect me to sew up my own breeches at home.”

“P’raps not,” Jack would answer diplomatically.

They had cruised now for some weeks and had captured several small merchant ships, but Captain Thompson was looking for a warship to engage. On a bright September evening they sighted a large fleet of merchantmen which they hoped might be convoyed by a ship of war.

There was a good breeze, and the Raleigh being an excellent sailer both on and off the wind laid her head for the fleet. To divert suspicion and to appear like a merchantman, Captain Thompson hoisted the British ensign, lowered his ports, and had his guns on deck covered with tarpaulins. He sent the men below with instructions at the first tap of the drum to go to quarters, and Dicky as drummer boy was ordered to bring his drum on deck, where he hid it behind a gun and covered it with his jacket.

It was late in the afternoon before the ships had been seen and it was near sunset when the Raleigh, flying British colors, sailed boldly in among the fleet. There were sixteen or seventeen vessels, somewhat widely separated, and one large ship, considerably to windward, whose squareness of rig and generally fine appearance induced Captain Thompson to think she might be a heavy British frigate. But if so her commander had disguised her so effectually that her real character could not be known until the Raleigh got considerably closer than she was then.

When the Raleigh got within signaling distance of the fleet, Captain Thompson sent for Jack Bell, who, with Dicky Stubbs to help him, spread out his signal flags. All of the officers were on deck except Mr. Dobell, the first lieutenant, who was ill in his berth, just recovering from a sharp attack of rheumatism. The second lieutenant, therefore, was to superintend the signaling. The large ship was plainly visible on the horizon when the sun was sinking in a blaze of glory. As soon as Jack Bell caught sight of her he said to the lieutenant very respectfully:—

“Axin’ your parding, sir, but that ’ere ship is a seventy-four. I sarved forty year in the British navy, and I can tell one o’ them ships as fur as I can see ’em.”

“I think you are mistaken, Bell,” answered the young officer, who did not know as much about the run and rig of a seventy-four as Jack Bell. “No doubt there is a warship somewhere about convoying the fleet, but it is not that large ship off the quarter; but I will speak to the captain.”

Captain Thompson agreed with his second lieutenant that the ship was not a seventy-four. Jack said no more, and the twilight coming on, the ship, although she grew larger as they approached her, also grew less distinct in her character and outlines.

Captain Thompson then sailed boldly into the fleet of merchantmen and signaled, “Where is your convoy?”

The signal was evidently understood, as the nearest vessel promptly hung out several signal flags in reply. But in the dusky evening, it was impossible to read them. However, the American captain thought it prudent to act as if he had read them, and signaled back, “We have orders to find your convoy.”

The impudence of this tickled the Americans, and the officers with difficulty suppressed a cheer from the men. Dicky Stubbs laughed so loud that Jack Bell gave him a whack in good earnest, which caused Dicky to be perfectly quiet afterward.

Meanwhile the big ship was evidently edging off, which made the sanguine Americans certain that she was a merchant ship.

“Maybe she is—and maybe she’s waitin’ until we gits under her broadside,” mumbled Jack Bell to himself.

“She’s shy, my men,” cried Captain Thompson, who was young and brave and rash, pointing to the ship, which continued to edge off. “We will signal her and see what account she will give of herself,” continued the captain.

The little Raleigh had now lessened the distance nearly one half between herself and the big ship, which showed not a single porthole and seemed to be keeping off most determinedly. Accordingly the Raleigh signaled, “Where is your convoy?”

A faint moon showed its shimmering disk over the horizon, and those on the Raleigh could plainly read the stranger’s answer:—

“We have none.”

The Raleigh then made this bold assertion:

“We have your superior officer aboard.”

By that time the Raleigh had gained on the big ship, which still showed a disposition to get away. Nevertheless it signaled back: “We think you are mistaken.”

By that time both ships were running free on the same tack, under a good working breeze. Suddenly the stranger luffed short around; her whole starboard side seemed to fly open; a double row of heavy guns were run out, as if by magic, and the whole broadside of a seventy-four roared out and raked the American from stem to stern. Fortunately the men had been kept below, in the effort to disguise the Raleigh, and by extreme good fortune, although several of the few officers and men on deck were wounded and all were thrown to the deck, none were killed. But the destruction on the ship was frightful. Many of her guns were dismounted, her masts and spars were so wounded that she became for the time unmanageable, and it was plain that she could not survive another such broadside.

Captain Thompson, with blood streaming down his face, soon regained his feet—but one glance showed him the state of affairs. The Raleigh had lost her leeway and swung around with her head to the wind, perfectly helpless under the guns of her huge antagonist. The seventy-four meanwhile, shortening sail with the utmost quickness and precision, was in a few minutes ready to repeat her performance.

“We will give her one round for the honor of the flag, if we go to the bottom for it,” cried Captain Thompson. “Sound your drum, boy, as loud as you can!”

Dicky at this began a tremendous tattoo, at the first sound of which the men rushed from below, and running to their quarters every gun on the Raleigh’s port side, which lay toward the seventy-four, thundered out—and, immediately after, the American ensign was hauled down, as resistance was useless. In another moment a boat was lowered from the seventy-four and pulled toward the Raleigh. The officers, with Captain Thompson at their head, stood at the port gangway to receive the boarding officer.

It had passed so quickly that Dicky was stunned by it all. He saw as in a dream the British officer come aboard, Captain Thompson offer his sword, which was courteously declined—and he, with the other officers, taken off to the British ship, which turned out to be the Ajax, one of the finest seventy-fours in the British navy. Not a murmur was heard against Captain Thompson, whose rashness had brought the Raleigh’s company to that evil pass. He had made a frightful mistake, but it was the mistake of a brave man, duped by a skilful enemy.