CHAPTER XXXVIII.

After the departure of the Onyx corvette our hero remained in the Vengeance, lying to, very busy setting her completely in order.

The men were delighted with the privateer, the accommodation being so vastly superior to a vessel of war. The weather was remarkably beautiful, with smooth water and light breezes. As Lieutenant Thornton and his midshipman, Master Burdett, sat at dinner, the latter said—

“Would not you like, sir, to try the merits of this fine craft? I’m sure she would beat anything afloat.”

“I dare say she would, Master Burdett; but, having a certain object in view, I must not get out of the direct line of the port of Havre. I intend standing in, towards evening. We are short-handed and lightly armed; and, though all the guns are below, we could not work more than we have on deck. Besides, I do not think, under present circumstances, I should be justified in seeking an action with an enemy; if forced into one it’s another thing.”

“Sail to the westward, sir,” cried Bill Saunders, down the cabin skylight; “large ship, seemingly.”

Lieutenant Thornton hastened upon deck, joyfully followed by Master Burdett, who rejoiced in the hope of either a chase, a fight, or even being chased. Midshipmen are insatiable, and very mercurial kind of animals. On gaining the deck Lieutenant Thornton took his glass and regarded the stranger; her top-gallant sails only could be seen, and they were braced sharp on a wind.

“That is a vessel of war, no doubt,” he coolly observed, “and by the cut of her top-gallant sails I should say French, standing in for Havre. We may readily pass for a French privateer; but if the captain hears, when he gets into Havre, about the cutting out of the Vengeance, he will come out again and look for us, and drive us off the coast, which would defeat my project. Cast off the fore-sheet, and let us get an offing till the stranger gets into port, if he is so bound.”

“Ay, ay, sir!” said Bill, who acted as chief mate, “blow me if it ain’t a pity we bean’t in ship-shape—more guns and more men—we would soon stop that ere chap.”

The Vengeance was now under weigh, with her full complement of sail, for the first time since captured; and the men looked over the side with many a remark upon the smooth and rapid way she went through the water.

“She’s a clipper, Master Burdett,” said Lieutenant Thornton. “This is a light breeze, comparatively speaking; just take the small glass, and call one of the men aft, and see what we are making.”

In a few minutes the log-line was overboard, Bill slacking the line and Master Burdett holding the glass.

“Stop,” sang out Bill, and, looking at the marks, declared she was going nine knots. This was a surprising speed for the wind then blowing. “There be very few crafts, sir,” continued Bill, “that could hold their own with this here Vengeance; she’d laugh at a frigate in a light breeze.”

“She always did Bill, even before her spars and sails were increased. You will see in half an hour we shall sink the stranger’s top-gallant sails.”

Finding such to be the case, the Vengeance was again hove to, whilst the crew still watched the course of the stranger. Presently they could see her topsails, and then our hero decidedly declared her to be a French frigate. Their fore and main lug were then lowered, and under her mizen and jib she kept pretty much in the same place, and as the sun went down they lost sight of the French ship, which evidently stood in for the port of Havre, without noticing them.

Sail was then made, and they hauled in for the land. Lieutenant Thornton was in an extremely anxious state of mind; he was far from feeling sure that Jean Plessis would be able to carry out his plans. If he failed, it was terrible to think how many years might pass before he should be again blessed with the sight of his beloved Mabel. It was one consolation to him, however, to know that in the then state of France there was no fear of either cruel persecution or death. The government were anxious to wipe away that frightful stain that no time will ever obliterate from the pages of French history.

Still, their youth might pass away, and their day-dreams of love and felicity fade, like almost everything else in this transitory and shifting globe. But young hope struggled in his breast, though some writer, we forget his name, declares, “We believe at once in evil, and never believe in good; but upon reflection this is sad. But we live in hope, and we never cease to indulge in hope to the last.”

As they stretched in with the land to the westward of Havre, about the middle of the first watch, the man on the look-out sung out—

“Sail ahead on the starboard bow!”

Lieutenant Thornton, who was pacing the deck chatting to the young midshipman, went forward, and looking over the starboard bulwarks, perceived two vessels standing towards them; they were about a league off. One was a schooner, the other a large chasse-mare.

They were making for Havre, and must have seen the Vengeance; but, as our hero imagined, mistook her for a French vessel, for no British cruisers or privateers were lugger rigged. The chasse-mare was nearly as large in tonnage as the Vengeance, though not near so long. In ten minutes, as they were then steering, they would be alongside each other.

“I’m blessed if that schooner ain’t an English one,” said Bill Saunders to a messmate, as they stood regarding the two vessels.

Lieutenant Thornton thought so too, and he also thought the chasse-mare was a privateer. It was a clear, fine night, with a light wind at east and by south. To let the two vessels run into Havre would betray the Vengeance being on the coast, so he made up his mind to run the chasse-mare on board and take her, if possible, by surprise. When the crew of the Vengeance were apprised of his intention, they joyfully ran to arm and prepare for the struggle, not bestowing a thought upon the disparity of force in men. As the chasse-mare came on, followed at half a mile distance by the schooner, they could see at all events that there were double their own number on board.

Lieutenant Thornton prepared to hail, desiring young Burdett to stand by the man at the helm, adding, “When I give the signal, run her on board.” Standing in the bows of the Vengeance, our hero with a speaking trumpet hailed the Frenchman, who as well as the lugger had no colours flying. Demanding the name of the vessel, a man in the bows replied—

“The Belle Poule, of Havre, Captain François Bouvet, with a prize. Are you the Vengeance, Captain Pierre Gaudet?”

Lieutenant Thornton waved his hat. The next moment the helm was put down, and the lugger, shooting up rapidly in the wind’s eye, came right across the quarter of the Belle Poule, and dropped alongside. A cheer that utterly astounded the French crew pealed over the deep, and as the two vessels became locked together by grappling irons thrown from the Vengeance into the Belle Poule, Lieutenant Thornton, followed by his entire crew, leaped on board the enemy, cutlass and pistol in hand. Taken completely by surprise, and quite unprepared, the crew of the Belle Poule, after a few ill-aimed shots at the boarders, threw down their arms and ran below, excepting the captain and two of his officers; the former was disarmed, though in a furious passion, by Lieutenant Thornton. The lieutenant and first mate, seeing the captain disarmed, threw down their cutlasses and surrendered. Bill Saunders’ first object was to fasten the French crew down below, for they amounted in number to forty-eight, without reckoning the captain, lieutenant, and mate. A violent scuffle below, however, attracted Bill’s attention, and some words reaching his ear, he called Master Burdett, and then by inquiry discovered that there were fourteen English prisoners below. Lieutenant Thornton immediately ordered the men up, and as the French crew of the Belle Poule had no idea of the small number of their assailants, they obeyed the order, and, one by one, up came fourteen stout, able-bodied seamen, giving three hearty cheers as they gained the deck.

“The schooner has tacked, sir, and is standing off to sea,” said Bill Saunders.

“Stand by, then, to separate the vessels,” returned Lieutenant Thornton. “Now, my lads,” he continued, turning to the released prisoners, “you must assist; we are, as you see, short-handed.”

“Ay, ay, sir; with all our hearts,” said a short, broad, hard-featured man, who said he was first mate of the schooner. “This was a devil of a surprise, sir, and a bold venture,” he added as he looked at the few men belonging to the Vengeance, actively engaged separating the vessels.

“What is the name of your schooner, my man?” demanded Lieutenant Thornton.

“The Fox privateer, sir; eight guns and sixty men, from Poole—Captain George Goodall.”

“How is that?” said our hero, surprised. “Did you strike to this craft?”

“No, sir,” said the mate, “that we did not; we’d seed him to the devil first. We struck to the Virginie frigate after beating this here chap, and a small lugger that came up with us off Ushant; but the Virginie coming up, threatened to sink us if we did not strike, so in course we