Part 8
“Away went Bill with his brace of pistols in his belt, and cartridge-box and cutlash by his side, along the main-yard, entirely concealed by the folds of the enemy’s main-sail, and got unobserved (except by those on deck) close in by the slings. The first man that rose,--pop he had him, to the great astonishment of the rest, who could not conceive where the shot came from; while those on deck were afraid of firing up, lest they should injure their own people, and the roar of the guns wouldn’t allow of a hail being heard. Bill squatted down as unconcerned as possible, re-loaded his pistol, and presently down went another. By this time the other two had gained the enemy’s mast-head; and finding they could douse a few of ’em without injuring Bill, they let fly, to the great terror of the Spaniards, who thinking themselves bewitched, bundled out of the top down the foot-hook shrouds, where they caught sight of Bill, when a desperate conflict ensued. He was, however, joined by his two shipmates; while others, from both ships, crowded up the riggings to the assistance of their several comrades. For a few minutes the fight seemed to be transferred aloft, when a shot from one of our main-deck guns brought down the enemy’s main-mast; and away the combatants came flying down upon deck, where, though severely shaken and bruised in the fall, all that were able still continued the fight. The confusion occasioned by the falling mast was instantly taken advantage of by our captain, who, heading the boarders, dashed fearlessly on to the enemy’s quarter-deck. Here he found Bill and his party at close quarters, hammering away like anchor-smiths; but the numbers were too many to cope with, and we were compelled to retreat. Just, however, as we had reached the sides of our own frigate,--‘Where’s the captain? where’s the captain?’ resounded on all sides. The Spaniards had grappled him, when Bill and his comrades again rushed back, and brought him off in safety.
“Well, d’ye see, at it we went again like sons of thunder; when shortly after, the ships parted and we played a game at long bowls. The enemy had all picked men, who fought with determined resolution; but the precision of our fire soon thinned their numbers, and orders were again given to prepare to board.
“‘Come here, my man,’ said the captain to Bill; ‘you’re a brave fellow, and deserve promotion: what shall I get for you?’
“‘Only a glass of grog, your honour, just to drink your honour’s health, and success to the day,’ says Bill.
“‘Well, well,’ says the captain, ‘I see your wishes are not unbounded; so go to my steward, and tell him to give you a bottle of rum.’
“‘Ey, ey, sir,’ answered Bill; ‘but if your honour would just let me speak a word,--may be your honour would not be angry if I axed for a toothful for all hands. The purser can afford it, your honour; and the people have had cobwebs in their throats these two hours. It would give ’em a little more spirit just before boarding.’
“‘I scarce know what to say to it, my man,’ replies the skipper; ‘however, send the purser’s steward here.’
“The steward came, and a tub of grog was soon mixed upon the main-deck, and equally as soon despatched. ‘All ready,’ was now heard fore-and-aft, when the helm was put up. ‘Stand by, my boys, as we pass under his stern,’ cried the captain: ‘point your guns well; pour it into him; and then follow me.’
“The Spaniards seemed to be aware of our intention; for they immediately hove all aback; but they could not accomplish their object, while we came easily round upon his quarter, and gave him a whole raking broadside double-shotted. All hands rushed from below; and, in less than two minutes, scoured the enemy’s decks; while Bill and a party broke in the cabin-windows, and dashed forward on the main-deck, bearing down all before them. The two captains met, and science was instantly called into play, while for a few minutes both parties seemed to pause, as if the victory depended on the conqueror; but a Spaniard, unnoticed, levelled his musket at our captain, and the ball lodged in his hand. The sword instantly dropped, but the gallant Spaniard scorned to take advantage; he lowered the point of his weapon, and flew to another part of the deck.
“Again the battle closed, and each fought with a determination to conquer or die. At last, three British cheers resounded from abaft; and there, upon the taffrail, stood Bill, hoisting the English colours over the Spanish at the peak. Several Spaniards flew to resent the insult, and the poor fellow would, no doubt, have fallen, had he not caught hold of a little French officer in the Spanish service, and held him up as a shield against their thrusts, till timely assistance rescued him. This affair, however, had divided the attention of the enemy, while it cheered up our men to fresh exertion. With one desperate rush they cut down all before them, and in a few minutes more, the frigate was our own. The slaughter ceased, and we were all good friends. The two captains dined together, and ever after lived like brothers; while the prisoners shared in our messes and partook of our grog.
“In overhauling our prize, we found she was from Buenos Ayres, with a freight of money. So away we went into port with gold candlesticks at each yard-arm, and at each mast-head; and as long as it lasted, fiddles, girls, coaches,--all were in motion; till by dint of hard labour we got rid of it, and then tossed up the anchor for more.”
I was highly entertained with these characteristic sketches of the man-of-war’s man, and the old boys seemed delighted with the opportunity of relating their former achievements. I was also much pleased with the deference they seemed to pay to each other, and the attachment which appeared to exist amongst them. The grog, however, began to operate a little, and the question was put, “whether his honour would like to hear a song?” Of course I acceded to any thing that was calculated to increase their enjoyments, and one of the younger men of the party--a marine, but blind--gave us the following song, which my old chaperon whispered to me was one of his own making.
“NED SPLICE was a tar as devoid of all fear As e’er swabb’d a deck from the spray of a sea; He knew every rope, and could hand, reef, and steer,-- Book-larning, why, Lord! ’twas all dickey to he. Our chaplain could spin out a very fine yarn, And bother each man in his mess; Says NED, ‘My brave boys, if your duty you’d larn, ’Tis--succour a friend in distress.’
“‘Ne’er get drunk!’ says the priest, with a wave of his fist, ‘Never swear;--never covet another man’s prog;’ But see him next day, when he’s cheating at _whist_-- My eyes! ’tis a storm in an ocean of grog. Says NED, ‘them ’ere maxims I don’t understand, We should practice the thing we profess;’ While the pray’r from his heart, and the gold from his hand, He gives to a friend in distress.”
This song was sung with no small degree of feeling and taste. Other songs followed, with a few characteristic observations and sentimental touches between them, till the termination of one which had for its burthen.
“Thus smiling at peril, at sea or on shore, We box the whole compass round cheerly; Toss the can, boys, again;--drink the king! and what’s more, We’ll drink to the girls we love dearly!”
“Sweet creatures!” exclaimed Bill Jennings “I loves ’em all a little, d’ye see; for what’s a sailor without a sweetheart? Why, he’s like a ship without a rib,--like a mast without stays,--like a lanniard without a dead-eye,--like a binnacle without a compass,--or a block without a sheave. Pretty dears! they’re the very ach-me of a sailor’s hopes,--the main-top of his heart. What, though the Turks think they’ve got no souls, you and I, your honour, both of us know, (and which of us doesn’t?) that they have got souls and spirits too, bless ’em! for I take it that’s much the same thing. I’ve seen ’em of all colours and shapes from the Hopping-tops at the Cape to the Axquemo near the North Pole; but there’s none to beat our own countrywomen. All the Wenuses of Italy,--all the beauties of Buss-aloney,--all the brilliant black eyes of Spanish America, can’t box the compass with the dear little lasses of our native land.
“Ah, I can remember the first time I fell in love, by tumbling down the main-hatchway! ’Twas when I was with Cook, out at the Sandwich Islands, where King Tommy-rammer and his wife came from. D’ye see, we had been refitting the rigging, and one of the ladies of Owyhee would be my doll-sinner; so she lent me a hand to tar the parcelling and pass the ball; and we were as kind and as loving as two tartle-doves. Well, I was walking near the hatch-way, when, somehow or other, I capsized, and Lowtowchinchow, in trying to save me, gave me a shove: I cotched hold of her, and away we went, Lowtowchinchow and I, down into the main-hold, like a couple of cherry-bums from the clouds. The hatchway was full of logs, and there we lay, like the babes in the wood, as natural as life. Howsomever, there were no bones broke, so they hauled us up again, and how could I help falling in love with her after that? Oh, we used to talk together, she in her lingo and I in mine, like two cats in a gutter. But what was the use on’t? the fore-topsail was sheeted home, and away we went; I promised to write to her by the first post, but she didn’t understand me, and so I forgot all about it next day.
“In some parts of the world they have a way of marrying what they call Poll-Higgamy; but, Lord love you! it’s all a cheat, d’ye mind; for instead of having one Poll, they marry twenty; and only to go for to think of a man having twenty wives! Howsomever, it’s all a matter of fact; nay, some have more, and our parson used to read about Solomon having hundreds! How a solo-man like Solomon could manage to keep ’em all to their tethers in working ship, I can’t think for the life o’me; but he was a wise man, and understood all manner of tongues, and so, mayhap, he had a way of his own. Pretty dears! one’s enough in England. But I’ve seen ’em, in the hour of peril, in the day of battle and the storm, conquer all the weakness of their natur, and display such cool fortitude, such heroic devotion to their husbands, as would astonish you.
“There was poor Joe Kelson, in the old Sandwich, under Rodney, had his wife on board when they engaged the French fleet off Martinique. She was a timid, delicate little body, one who had been tenderly brought up; yet she left all the luxuries of the shore, a father’s house and a mother’s love, to brave the dangers of the ocean and share a piece of salt junk and a biscuit with the being she loved. Ah, I can remember her looks the morning of the action, while we stood at breakfast! Her face was pale and her quivering lip and tearful eye told all the anguish of her soul. Joe tried to comfort her, but ’twas useless: he talked of honour and of glory; but what was honour and glory to a fainting spirit? Her heart was overwhelmed, and when she came afterward to his quarters on the lower deck, she could hardly support her trembling frame. It was just about noon, and she brought him a bit of dinner: they sat down upon the gun-trucks; but neither of ’em could eat, and it was a hard task upon poor Joe to preserve his firmness. All hands pitied them; and when they parted for the last time, there was scarce a dry eye at the gun.
“Well, d’ye see, about half an hour afterwards we began to engage; but there were cowards in the fleet, rank cowards, and the admiral wasn’t properly supported; so the old Sandwich bore the brunt of the battle, and hot enough it was, too; many a poor fellow dropt his peak and bore up, and as is customary, were directly launched out at the port. At last, poor Joe received a mortal wound that stretched him on the deck. We lifted him up in our arms to carry him to the surgeons in the cock-pit; but he opened his eyes, tried to speak, then gave one convulsive shudder as the last death-pang parted soul and body, and his mortal agonies were over. We stood for the port to give him a sailor’s grave; when, just at this moment, his wife appeared close to us. She had suffered all the tortures of suspense, till apprehension and anxiety for her husband’s safety overcame every fear, and she stood at our sides. The body was half out, and perhaps she would not have recognised it but for her own handkerchief, which she had tied round his neck. We all looked at each other, and then at her, undetermined what to do. She stopped for an instant, and gazed at the face of her husband, as if trying to trace the features; her eye caught the token on his breast; she sprung forward,--but ’twas too late--the body of poor Joe was already in the ocean-wave.
“A wild and piercing shriek followed. She ran to the spot, and would have shared his grave, but was forcibly withheld. She looked at the dark waters, and then tried to catch a view through the thick smoke at the enemy’s fleet. It cleared a little; she saw the French ships to leeward, and her spirit seemed to rise above the noise and din of battle. The roaring of the guns, the rattling of the tackles, and the flashes of the powder,--above all, a feeling of revenge, instead of crushing her delicate frame, appeared to change every operation of her heart. She watched us for some time, and no entreaty could prevail on her to go below; till, at last, she inquired what was her husband’s particular station; and having ascertained it, she instantly supplied his place, and, with undaunted determination, bravely continued to fight at the same gun during the remainder of the action. Nor was this all; for, with the tenderness of a female bosom, she sat up with the wounded, attended to their wants, soothed their complainings, and tried to forget her own sorrows by relieving theirs. The brave Rodney, you may depend upon it, didn’t forget her; and I heard that he obtained a handsome pension to support her.
“There was Mrs. R--, the captain’s wife of the L---- frigate; though for the matter o’that, _she_ was captain, although only rated as mate. Ah, that was an Irish ship; captain Irish,--officers Irish,--men Irish; the ship’s name ought to have been Pat. She dearly loved her lads,--her boys, as she called them,--particularly Mr. O’Shaughnessy, the first-lieutenant, though the midshipmen knew pretty well how to get the weather-gage of her, especially when their case was in a pitiable condition, ‘showing a beggarly account of empty bottles.’ She was a lady, every inch of her, and used to come round the mess-deck morning, noon, and night, to see that all hands were comfortable and happy. If any body wanted liberty, it was only spinning a yarn to the petticoat captain, and they had it directly. Well, d’ye see, we had orders to sail; and so, to the great grief of all hands, Mrs. R. was obliged to leave us, with a heavy heart and a sorrowful countenance. ‘But never mind, boys,’ says she; ‘may be you’ll come back some day; and then, oh!--good bye to you, my boys, and stand by your captain to the last, like Erin’s own sons. Remember, Irishmen must never lose their laurel!’ And so we gave her three cheers as she went over the side.
“Well, after several months’ absence on a long cruise, we once more reached Spithead, and in a day or two a pretty little yacht came working in from St. Helen’s to the anchorage. The officers got their glasses, and word was soon passed that our friend Mrs. R. was on board of her. All hands crowded on deck,--not an officer or man remained below. The captain took his station on the quarter-deck abaft, the officers, especially the midshipmen, were more in advance, while at the gangway stood the old master-at-arms, Michael Malone.
“Mich was a perfect original,--neither sailor nor sodger,--but a strict disciplinarian, as all the boys in the ship could testify. He was, in fact, the very squint-essence of an Irishman. On nine hairs of his head was stuck a little trencher-like hat, with a roof not much bigger than half-a-crown. Behind projected a tail-piece that would have puzzled Hogarth. It was about nine inches long, and stretched out from the neck in a horrorzontal direction, like a tiller shipped the wrong way. His jacket, was of a sandy-gray-russet, embellished with ornamental designs of all colours and shapes. Huge pockets, well filled with rolls of paper, were prominent features, his trousers, (barring the breaches) well patched with corderoy, and his legs were sometimes cased in leather, that had formerly been a pair of military boots; but now, by continual cobbling, had lost their prime-itive shape and looked like a couple of fire-buckets. His countenance was open; for he had a marvellous mouth, that stretched as wide as a turnpike-gate; and his nose hung dangling down, as if to see that nothing passed through without paying toll. But for his eyes, he had a pair of odd ones, that gave you the most agreeable squint in the world, and made him see two ways at once. Many a poor boy has got thrashed for quizzing him, thinking he was looking another way.
“Well there old Mich stood, adjusting his cravat with the utmost gravity, when Mrs. R---- came over the side. Of course every body expected she would have walked aft to the captain; but her delight was so great, that she no sooner got upon the deck than she caught old Mich (being nearest) round the neck, and began kissing him like fury. Mich, equally pleased, returned her embrace with interest, to the great amusement of every soul, fore-and-aft. ‘Oh, my boys,--my boys,’ says she, as soon as Mich let her get breath; ‘joy to the hour that I see you again! Arrah! R---- dear, sure, and I’m so happy!’--So catching the captain in her arms, she gave full evidence of the fact.
“The officers wiped their mouths and smacked their lips, expecting it would go round, and were anticipating the salute of her sweet kiss, for she was really a beautiful woman; but they were disappointed; for the first moment of exquisite feeling having subsided, she became sensible of what had passed. Howsomever, the captain laughed heartily, and old Mich looked as if he was ready for a second edition. Mrs. R---- called him and apologized for her conduct, blushing all the time most glowingly. ‘Och!’ says she, ‘my joy was so great that I couldn’t help it!’
“‘Be aisey, my lady, be aisey,’ says Mich: ‘I’d do the same for your ladyship any day, and every day. Sure didn’t I have the best of it, then? Faith, and I did, any how; for I gave you two for one. Oh, don’t mention it, my lady.’
“Well, and all hands had an extra allowance of grog, and Mich declared that ’twas the happiest day of his life; for her ladyship’s two-lips were like full-blown roses, moistened with dews; and but for his ugly nose, that came in the way, he would have had half a dozen more.”
* * * * *
The afternoon having by this time drawn pretty well to a close, I rose; and having said a few words expressive of the pleasure I had experienced in their society, with a promise to pay them another visit before long, I took my departure amidst the hearty cheers of the old men; and if their blessings can have any influence in smoothing the path of life, mine would be smooth indeed.
TOM BROOKES.
No cannon peal’d his knell, No shout that gain’d the day, Gave his frail spirit one farewell, To waft it on its way. He rush’d all life into the wave, And found at once his death and grave!
’Twas in the days of my boyhood, and though since that time many years have rolled their burdens on my head,--years that, like billows on the sand, have smoothed the traces which memory once had made, yet I can remember the circumstances as if it was but yesterday and the tears still wet upon my cheek; for I had known Tom Brookes from my infancy, and he had often brought me home some curiosity from distant lands, where the cedar and the pine-tree grow in rich luxuriance. Indeed it was his tales of the ocean, when the spreading sail was filled to waft the gallant ship to foreign climes, that first excited my desires to become a sailor.
Poor Tom had been brought up in expectation of a genteel fortune, and had been educated most scrupulously to revere a rigid sense of virtue, and to maintain that independency of spirit, which can only be fully appreciated by a noble mind. But ah! how soon can adversity cloud the fairest prospects! And here it came, not like the rising gale that gives a timely warning of its approach; no, it resembled the wild tornado, bursting with sudden vengeance on its victim, without a moment’s space to tell that death rides on the blast.
His father was ruined by an unforeseen reverse in trade; he could not stand against the shock, and he sank broken-hearted to the grave, leaving a widow and one child to mourn the unexpected change in their prosperity, but still more to grieve for him who could never return again.
Mrs. Brookes had a brother, who had been nearly all his life at sea; and to him poor Tom was consigned, to brave the perils of the briny deep. “Don’t cry, mother,” he exclaimed at the parting, “don’t cry; I shall soon come back, and be enabled to provide for your support. Providence may smile upon us yet, and your last days be your best.”--“Go, my child,” replied the mother, whilst her heart swelled almost to bursting, “go, my child; I will resign you to the merciful care of that Being who is a father to the fatherless, and the widow’s God and Judge.”
After his departure, poor Tom received one letter from his mother before he sailed. It inculcated all the moral and religious duties; requested him to peruse his bible, and near the close were the following lines, which he committed to memory; and in after years, when an infant sitting on his knee, he repeated them to me so often, that they became deeply impressed upon my mind:--
TO MY SAILOR BOY.
“When sailing on the ocean, In foreign climes you roam, Oh, think with fond emotion, upon your distant home; And never strive to smother, But treasure up with joy, Remembrance of a mother, Who loves her Sailor Boy.
When thunders loud are roaring, And vivid lightning flies, The rain in torrents pouring, Sleep will depart my eyes; Tears will bedew my pillow, You all my thoughts employ, Tossed on the angry billow A little Sailor Boy.
Kind Providence protect you, And bring you back again; Your mother will expect you, Safe from the troubled main. No, Heaven will not distress me, The widow’s hope destroy; Return once more to bless me, My little Sailor Boy.”
In the course of a few years, Tom became mate of a fine ship in the merchants’ service, and his efforts seemed crowned with success. He enjoyed the sweet satisfaction of seeing his mother comfortably situated, and his heart whispered it was the reward of virtue.
But who can arraign the will of Heaven, or say to Omnipotence, “What doest thou?” War with all its attendant horrors broke out, and the cruel system of impressment was adopted for the purpose of manning our fleets.
At this critical juncture, Tom received information that his parent was rapidly hastening to the mansions of immortality,--“where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.” He had recently arrived in England full of joyous anticipation; but he found the silver cord of existence was loosened, and the golden bowl dashed from his lips:--he reached his home just time enough to receive the last farewell benediction of his dying mother.