Part 7

“It warn’t Tom’s head,” he replied, laughing, “it was the sheep’s head; for Tom kept the ould chap dodging about till he saw the cask of dollars was in the boat, and she with her three lugs rap full standing off shore with a spanking breeze, and then he pretends to trip up over a piece of rock and lays him all along, hove down on his beam ends. Up comes the Signor hand over hand; because why? Poor Tom had made every nail an anchor, and clung to the earth as if it had been his own nat’ral mother. So, up comes the Signor and grabs hold of the bag, which Tom held on, like grim death against the doctor; but after some tuzzling, Tom lets go the bag and runs for it, leaving Jack Spaniard with his prize. Well, Tom gets down to the captain’s gig and shoves off to the Muskitoe schooner, what was lying in-shore, and the Signor hoists the bag on his shoulders, fully sartin from the weight that he’d made a rich seizure, and back he marches to the guard-house, where every soul had turned out to enjoy a sight of the chase, (so that the cart with the cask passed by without being examined,) and now remained grouped together to see what the Signor had got. There was Spanish sodgers in their cockt-hats, custom-house officers in their long punchos, and coast-o’guinea niggers, men and women, cracking their jokes at the expense of poor Tom, and highly delighted that his cargo was captured, nothing doubting but that it was dollars, or mayhap ounce-bits--that’s doubleloons, messmates,--and all were eager to see it opened, little suspecting it was a mere bag o’ moonshine. Well, the Signor comes right slap into the middle of ’em, puffing and blowing like a sparmacity, and throws down his treasure; one of the black fellows out’s knife and cuts the seizing at the mouth of the bread-bag, and away rolls sheep’s heads and cabbages with a good sprinkling of garlic; and, my eyes, the sodgers began to roar with laughing; the custom-house officers turned-to and swore at every Saint in the calendar, the niggers went dancing mad with delight at the fun, whilst the ould Signor twirled his mouthstarshers and cursed every thing an inch high. But the dollars were safe, and Tom got a handsome present for his trouble; whilst Jack Spaniard was in a precious stew of sheep’s heads and impartinances to think he’d been done so completely.”

“I dearly loves them there sort o’things,” said a weather-beaten old blade; “there’s a some-ut sentimental about ’em that excites simperthy, and brings to the memory many an ould scene of former times.”

“You’re right, boy Ben,” rejoined my first conductor, who had told me of the Mutiny of the Hermione, “and so they do. Some people calls ’em _rum-on-tick_, but I can’t for the life of me tell why, as they seldom gives us credit for much spirits; but if his honour there has no objection, I’ll just give him a yarn that’s twirling in my brain, and mayhap it may please him.”

I readily assented to the proposal, and he accordingly began,--“I remember once, when under the command of the gallant Sir Sidney Smith, up the Mediterranean, we were scouring the coast, and brushing away the French troops; the captain ordered a party in the barge and launch to rig for going ashore, as he intended to pay a visit to a nobleman, who resided about two miles inland, on an elegant estate. Now, the old master was an immense stout man, as big as a grampus; he always gave the vessel a heel to the side he was walking: and as he hadn’t been on dry ground for many months, he was invited to join the captain and some of the other officers in their cruize. But, Lord love you! he thought the ship wouldn’t be safe without him; and, as for fighting like the sodgers, with their marching and their countermarching, why, he didn’t understand their heavylutions, and wasn’t going to be made a light-infantry of. However, they persuaded the old gemman at last; all hands got into the boats, and we shoved off. It was a lovely morning, and as we pulled along-shore, the scenery was beautiful; but more so when we landed and took our course to the nobleman’s house. A wild and romantic spot it was; rocks piled on rocks, yet crowned with verdure--the dark forest and the green fields; while the calm ocean reflected with dazzling brightness the golden beams of the sun.

“Well, d’ye see, the nobleman was glad to see us all, for the French had retreated three weeks before, and he said there wasn’t a trooper within a hundred miles. The wine was set abroach, and all hands began to make merry, particularly Sir Sidney and the officers.

“‘Well, master,’ said the captain, ‘how have you enjoyed your walk?’

“‘Very much, indeed, sir; but,’--looking to seaward,--‘I’m afraid they’re getting the ship too close in. How sweetly she sits, like a duck upon the water! Gad, I’m sorry I left her.’ And then he bellowed, ‘Why don’t you wear round upon t’other tack? But they can’t hear me, so I may just as well whistle jigs to a mermaid.’

“‘Never mind,’ returned the skipper, ‘they’ll keep her afloat; so drink your wine, and make yourself happy.’

“Happy, eh? what out of his ship? That was impossible; so the old man kept growling, like a distant thunder storm. The castle we were in was situated upon a rising ground, that commanded an extensive view of the country; but we were on that side which was next the sea, and after a good _blow_ out,--that is, when we had re-_galed_ ourselves, and the captain had gained what information he wanted, just as we were coming away, in rushed a tall meagre-looking figure, with a face as long as a purser’s account, and as pale as a corpse, while his teeth chattered like a watchman’s rattle.

“‘What’s the matter,--what’s the matter?’ inquired Sir Sidney; but the man was breathless with running, and couldn’t answer. He wrung his hands, and pointed inland. The officers made the best of their way aloft to the top of the castle, and there, with their glasses, discovered a troop of French cavalry, about 200, carrying on under a heavy press.

“My eyes! there was a job. To defend the ship,--the castle, I mean,--was out of the question; for there warn’t above twenty of us up from the boats; besides, it would have been the ruin of the nobleman, in case of defeat. So orders were given to make the best of our way down, and every man to look out for himself. But what was to become of the master? He could hardly walk; and for running, that was impossible, for his legs were so short, he could make no hand at it. The officers proposed to conceal him; but he swore he wouldn’t be stowed away like a bale of damaged slops returned unserviceable, and perhaps be cotch’d and get fricasseed and carbonadoed, like a young frog. ‘No,’ said he; ‘crack on, my boys; and the devil take the starnmost.’

“Off we set, but poor old Soundings couldn’t hold it out; he puffed, and blowed, and waddled along, till he tripped over a mound of earth; and there he lay, like an island of flesh amidst an ocean of grass. Sir Sidney hove to, and laughed till his sides shook. However, he ordered a couple of hands to raise the old gemman on their shoulders, and run with all their might.

“By this time, the troops had advanced within musket shot, and they sent us a few peppercorns to freshen our way. The firing made the men in the boats alert, (for they were out of sight, the landing-place being just over the brow of a hill,) and so they prepared for our reception. The sodgers were coming up with us hand over hand, and their shots flew pretty thick. The old master, as soon as he recovered breath, did nothing but growl at being obliged to run away from the enemy, and kept his pistols ready to salute them in case of their coming alongside. There was now only a corn-field between us and the descent to the boats, when the men, finding themselves considerably in the rear, made a desperate push with their cargo and capsized altogether. Up they sprung again: it was, however, too late to mount the master afresh; besides, he had got a little rest in the carriage, so all hands took to their heels: but just as they arrived in the middle of the corn, the French poured in a smart volley, and the old gemman fell. The rest of the party had reached the boats, and put off upon their oars, all ready to give the troopers a warm reception. The two guns in the launch and one in the barge were loaded with musket-balls, and every man had his musket or pistols ready cocked for the attack. The cavalry appeared on the brow of the hill, as fine a mark as you’d wish to shoot at. Whiz--whiz--we let fly; and they seemed to be struck comical. They thought to capture us at once without difficulty; but, at the second fire, our arms had done so much execution, that they turned tail and scampered off as hard as they could drive.

“The frigate had witnessed the transaction; and when they could bring the guns to bear without injuring our own people, a broadside of round and grape completed their confusion. As soon as the action was over, we found two or three of our men slightly wounded, while many of the enemy lay dead upon the hill; others we could perceive moving about, and some, who had been dismounted, were endeavouring to escape. In about half an hour’s time we again pulled in, but not so cheerful as we did at first. The master had always been a great favourite with the captain, and, indeed, for the matter of that, every soul fore-and-aft looked upon him as a friend. He had come in at the hawse-holes, knew the duty of a tar, and was lenient to a seaman’s failings. No man could ever complain that Mr. Soundings had laid a finger upon him, or been the means of bringing him to the gangway, and, above all, stopping his grog. He was strict with the purser’s-steward, and kept the cook to his tethers. But now to be cut off, as it were, without being able to give the enemy battle, and to be hove down upon his beam-ends by the lubberly French sodgers,--it made all hands melancholy to think of it. If he had died upon the quarter-deck in the heat of an engagement, it would have been another guess-thing, because that would have been in the way of his profession, and he would have dropped his peak and wore round for t’other world with the same calmness and composure that he conned his ship into action, under a firm conviction of going aloft, because he had done his duty. But, to be popped at in a corn-field, like a cock-lark or a partridge,--oh, ’twas a most unnatural death!

“‘Whereabouts did you leave the master?’ said the captain to the man who was with him last.

“‘In the corn-field, sir,’ replied the man; ‘we carried him as long as we could stand under canvass; but both of us were so heavily laden, that I expected to founder every minute, and having too much top-hamper, we did upset at last. But Mr. Soundings got up directly and run with us ever so far, till the crapeaus gave us another broadside, and down he dropped in an instant. I heard him give one loud holloa, and then all was silent; so concluding death had grappled with him, I made all sail for the boats.’

“‘Did you see him,’ inquired the captain, ‘after he fell?’

“‘No, sir; he was buried among the corn, for there was a deep hollow ridge run along the place, and I suppose he rolled into it.’

“‘Poor fellow,’ rejoined Sir Sidney, his eye moistening as he spoke; ‘poor fellow, he’s gone, no doubt. However he shall have a seaman’s grave; so follow me ashore, Mr. E. (addressing the lieutenant) and take half the men with you. The rest, under Mr. L. must stay by the boats, and be prepared in case the troops should charge again.’

“The party drew up upon the beach, all eager to search for the body, and gratified to think that it would not be left as a prey for the gulls, but be hove overboard, sewed up in a hammock and all ship-shape. Sir Sidney Smith walked a-head in advance of the men, full of grief for the loss of his old shipmate; when all at once we heard a voice roaring most piteously, and the next moment a loud shout. We pushed forward, and in another minute a trio of Frenchmen showed themselves at the brow of the hill. Several muskets were presented at them; the sodgers dropped on their knees, when another figure, close behind them, was brought into view, holding a pistol in each hand. And who do you think it was? Why old Soundings himself, with a face full of choler like a heated furnace, his corporation heaving and setting like a mountain billow, and puffing and blowing like a grampus in a storm. Sir Sidney sprung forward and caught the master’s hand, while the rest gathered round and gave three hearty cheers for joy.

“‘Ay, ay,’ said the old gemman, laughing, ‘you’re a pack of cowards, to leave a ship in distress. Safety lays in the length of the legs now-a-days. Run, eh! fine clean-going craft like you, run! and suffer a crazy, weather-beaten, old hulk to battle the watch with a whole fleet! But there, d’ye mind, I have taken three prisoners, and now lend me a hand down to the boat.’

“The fact was, the old boy had tumbled into a hollow, the troops had passed over him, and sometime after their retreat, finding all quiet, he crawled out; when meeting suddenly with three Frenchmen dismounted, he presented his pistols and compelled them to go a-head just as we hove in sight.

“With light hearts the boats were once more shoved off from the beach; and, notwithstanding the old gemman boasted highly of his prowess, he swore it should be a long day before he’d trust his precious limbs out of the ship again, to go bush-fighting like a land privateer.”

“Arter all,” exclaimed the old boatswain’s-mate, “them there were spirit-stirring times; but the Neapolitans and Italians were scarcely worth fighting for. I was aboard the ould Culloden, 74, along with Troubridge up the Mediterranean; and one day a boat comes along-side and up mounts a Neapolitan officer, his rigging dressed out in gold lace and stars, so that he looked like a man-cake of gilt gingerbread. So he goes aft into the cabin, and tells the captain the Neapolitan troops were going to attack the French in a small fortified town on the coast, and Captain Troubridge being commodore, he had made bould to ax him for one of the sloop-of-war brigs to cannonade ’em by sea whilst the sodgers stormed ’em by land; and he talked so big of the bravery of his men, that it was enough to make a fellow believe that they cared no more for a bagonet than they did for a sail-needle, and no more for a two-and-thirty pound shot than they did for a ball of spun-yarn, and it puzzled me to think how the captain could hoist it all in; for he bowed very politely, and told the officer ‘he made no doubt that they would eat all they killed;’ and the officer bowed again almost to the deck, and he kept bending and bending like a ship heeling over to sudden gusts from the land. Howsomever, the skipper grants him the eighteen-gun brig, and then they began to overhaul a goodish deal about the plan of attack; and the Neapolitan observed, that if the captain would let ’em have a frigate instead of the brig, it would be much better and must ensure success. So the captain, very good-humouredly, countermands the order for the brig, and makes the signal for the captain of one of the frigates; and then they conversed together again, and the Count--they called him a Count, but Lord love you! he wouldn’t count for nothing among British sodgers:--I say, the Count danced about the cabin as if he was charging the French garrison, and cutting ’em up into four-pound pieces. Well, ashore he goes, and the frigate’s signal was made to unmoor and prepare for sea; when aboard comes the Count again to say the commander-in-chief requested a line-of-battle ship might be sent instead of the frigate, as it would place the victory beyond a doubt, and after some backing and filling about the matter, Troubridge consented, and the brig was ordered to get under way and direct one of the seventy-fours outside to proceed to the place appointed. So away goes the Count, though it was plain to see the skipper warn’t over and above pleased with the shuffling; but still he hoped the French would be beat, and ill as he could spare the seventy-four, the sloop was soon walking away under her canvass and had got to some distance; when alongside comes the Count again and goes into the cabin; but he hadn’t been long there before out he comes again holus-bolus through the door-way, and the skipper in his wake with a face like scarlet, kicking the Count under his counter and starting him endways like seven bells half-struck. The Count scratched his indecencies and run along the quarter-deck, with old Troubridge belabouring him, and hollaing out, ‘D-- his eyes, first a brig, then a frigate, and next a line-of-battle ship; and now he won’t fight arter all!’ So the Count jumped into his boat, the brig was recalled, and the French kept possession till the army retreated, and then they capitulated.”

“Ay, that was a sweet ship,” said an aged pensioner, “that ould Culloden. Did you know Bill Buntline, as was captain of her fore-top?”

“Why, to be sure I do,” replied the other; “we were messmates for three years, and a worthy soul Bill was, too. He could spin a yarn that would last the whole look-out; and then, like some of your magazines, he continued it in the next. He was brave, too; but I fear we shall never muster many such as he again.”

“’Cause why?” said my old chaperon, “they don’t steer the right course to gain the point: who’d live burning under the line with only half allowance of grog? or in regard of the matter o’ that, what heart could go boldly into action that was swamped in tea-water? The parsons may say what they please, but they arn’t more fond of the kettle nor other folks, unless they takes it warm with a couple o’ lumps o’ sugar. But most of our tars are now in foreign sarvices, and teaching their art to our enemies.”

“Ay, it is so, ould shipmate,” rejoined the pensioner; “I reads of ’em sometimes when they used to be with Cochrane in South America, and I glories in the whacking the Portuguese fleet have just napped from Napier. It makes my ould heart bound with joy when I thinks of it.”

“But, mayhap,” said the boatswain’s-mate, “there’ll be some whistling to get ’em back again, in case of another war; but I hardly think a British tar would battle the watch against his country.”

“Tell that to the marines!” exclaimed the old man. “Why! warn’t the Yankee frigates principally manned with British tars,--many of ’em who had fought under Nelson, and hailed with three cheers his last memorable signal? Did not the United States have two of her guns, one named Nelson and the other Victory, worked solely by men who had fought at Trafalgar, and in most of the general actions? Nay, more: all of them had been bargemen to the undaunted hero, had shared his dangers, and revenged his death! Oh, what could have wrought such ruinous principles in their hearts, as to make them not only desert from, but strive to crush the proud flag for which they had shed their richest blood! And yet we are to be told, that this is not a fit subject for inquiry among the gemmen at the head of affairs; and that, in the event of another war, seaman are again to be dragged into the service, and compelled to toil under the dread of the cat. As for me, I always served my king and my country, (God bless ’em!) and mean to stick to my stuff as long as my timbers will hold together. But, nevertheless, I am a seaman, have a seaman’s feelings, and cannot bear to see a seaman injured: they are my messmates, my brothers; and I long to see them once more under the ‘union,’ gallantly asserting their country’s rights, and maintaining her naval glory.

“But to return to Bill; poor fellow, the last time I saw him he was on board an East Ingeeman, outward bound. The frost of years was on his head, and age had ploughed deep furrows on his brow; but his heart was as light as ever. I can remember him, the finest-looking fellow in the fleet, full of life and spirit; and, one day, when we were all, (that is the boarders,) exercising our cutlasses on the quarter-deck,--by the by, Mr. Kendall, who went out with Captain Franklin, was midshipman of our division, and a worthy little officer he was; his father was a captain in the navy, and both his grandfathers died admirals: I knew ’em well, and brave officers they were. Well, as I was a saying, there we stood, cutting and slashing right and left, while the officers watched our motions, and practised among themselves. ‘That’s a bonnie lad there,’ said the captain’s lady, leaning on the arm of the marine officer, and pointing to Bill; ‘a bonnie lad, in gude truth, Mr. M.’--‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied the officer, ‘a fine muddle for a Polly.’ But, Lord love you! as for being muddled, why he was as sober as a judge, and warn’t no more like a Polly than this pewter pot’s like a wooden platter.

“Well, d’ye see, there the boarders continued exercising; for we had a west-country sergeant who had received instruction in the horse-guards, but he turned foot-sodger and came to sea, and so he was appointed to teach the men upon a new system. A tyrannical upstart fellow he was, too; and nobody liked him. ‘Mind,’ says he, ‘when I say sooards, thee mustn’t draa, but only handle thee’s sooard for ready; but when I say draa sooards, thee must lug them out t’ scabbard:’ and so he kept on posing us, till we all wished him at ould Nick. At last we came to the cuts and guards: the first was all very well; but we could make nothing of the guards; for if a sailor, in boarding, stands like a doctor to pick and choose what limb to dissect, it would soon be all dickey with him. Straight forward work’s the best, and soonest over. ‘Now,’ says he, ‘if the enemy should cut at thee leg, thee must draa it back, and then thee wult be able to strike him down by the head, thus,’--showing the position. Howsomever, we could not scrape as he did; and so he got into a terrible passion. ‘Thee be a pack of fools,’ said he. ‘Now mind, as soon as I draa my leg back, I strike thus; and the enemy will fall!’ So saying, with the roll of the ship, he made a step back, when unfortunately--the scuttle was open behind him--down he went and disappeared in an instant. ‘And the enemy will fall!’ cried Bill, imitating him; while all hands, officers, ladies and all, burst into a roar of laughter. ‘Yo hoy, sergeant,’ bellowed Bill, down the scuttle, ‘where are you, my hearty? An’t you coming up again? Here we are all waiting to put the enemy to flight.’--But Mr. sergeant had had enough of it for that day, and slunk quietly to his berth.

“I remembers another time, in a six-and-thirty, when we engaged a Spanish frigate, and a heavy one she was too; they had men in their tops with rifles, who seemed only intent to pick out our officers. Well, d’ye see, the two ships swung alongside, and the main yards locked, with the Spaniard’s just abaft ours. Bill happened to be in the main-top with two others stoppering the shrouds, and every now and then he caught a glimpse of these fellows, laying down to load and firing over the top-brim.

“‘My eyes! shipmates, look there,’ says he; ‘the cowardly lubbers are bush-fighting. D--n the rigging; let’s go and clap a stopper over-all upon them:--but, avast, avast; do you two get upon their topsail-yard; and when you see me in the top, then come down hand over hand amongst us.’