Part 6

"'No, sir. Misfortune and necessity brought me here, united with the love of the profession of a sailor. It is a duty, however, which I owe to you as well as myself, on the present occasion, to appear in my true colours; and to tell you a tale which I would otherwise have kept secret, and which is only known to myself and my kind friend and townsman, Telford, the boatswain's mate.' I then proceeded to relate to him what I have already told you. Both the captain and Mr Barlow appeared to be much interested in my narrative, and were pleased to compliment me upon my independence of spirit, and the clear and distinct manner in which I expressed myself. 'After this,' said Captain Edwards, 'there can be no bar to your messing with the young gentlemen, as I suppose you have no objection to their hearing your story?'

"'None whatever, sir.'

"'Begging your pardon, Captain Frederick,' said Mr Barlow; 'I know a midshipman's berth too well, and he may tell of his birth and his misfortunes; but let him know the love, sir, and you'll never hear the end of it.'

"'I daresay you're quite right, Mr Barlow. Dalzell, I have no doubt you will be discreet in your communications, for your own sake.'

"That same day I was admitted into the midshipmen's mess, and was treated by them with the greatest kindness and consideration. My life was now a comparatively easy one, as I had hardly any duty to perform, except that of writing; but I determined in my own mind, if possible, to prove myself as quick as a clerk as I had endeavoured to do as a sailor. I was fortunate enough, in my new capacity, not only to please my immediate superior, but to add to the captain's good opinion of me. One stormy night, as we were nearing the Cape, I was letting go some rope on the poop, the hands having been called out to reef topsails, when something fell heavily upon the deck almost close to my feet. The night was so dark that I could not distinguish what it was; but I thought that a coil of rope, or something of that kind, had been thrown out of the top by the motion of the ship, and I began to feel about, to discover what it might be. My hand touched something soft and warm, and at the same time I heard a faint groan. I immediately gave the alarm, and a quartermaster brought up a lantern, by the light of which we discovered the lifeless body of young Hawkins, one of our midshipmen. He had been up furling the mizzen-royal, had lost his footing, and been precipitated to the deck. Poor fellow! he never spoke again--that groan had been his last. A few days after his death, the captain called the hands out, and told me, before them all, that he had entered me on the ship's books as midshipman, as a reward for my good behaviour; and he had no doubt that the same high sense of duty which had been the means of raising me to the quarterdeck would incite me to do credit to the appointment. He then told the ship's company to obey my orders for the future as their officer, and then dismissed them. I was immediately surrounded by the midshipmen, all of whom cordially congratulated me upon my appointment, and resolved to have a jollification on the occasion. I was much amused with my old friend Telford, who took the earliest opportunity of touching his hat to me, and calling me Mr Dalzell.

"'Why, Telford, what makes you so distant?' said I, offering my hand at the same time.

"'No, sir, thank ye,' said he; 'I knows my place better nor that. If so be you likes to give us your flipper down in your cabin, well and good; but not here, sir--not afore the people--'twould look too free-and-easy like. I'm plain Tom Telford still; but you've got a handle to your name now, Mr Dalzell.'

"My messmates laughed heartily, and Tom was desired to come down to the berth, where he shook me heartily by the hand, and wished me all manner of success, and then tossed off a tumbler of strong grog in the most approved fashion: nose invisible--eyes raised heavenward--out-stretched little finger--gurgling noise in the throat, ending with a suffocating gasp of enjoyment, and a sweeping over his mouth with the cuff of his jacket.

"I pass over a number of trifling incidents in my naval career, and shall proceed at once to the sad catastrophe by which I was deprived of my kind friend and benefactor, the captain, and of most of those with whom I had passed so many happy days. We were lying at anchor in Table Bay, one fine afternoon in November, the 4th of the month. The weather was perfectly calm, but there was a heavy swell, and clouds had been for some time gathering to the northward, and many of our weather-Solomons predicted a storm. In the midshipmen's berth, however, there were no croakers. It was the eve of the 'Gunpowder Plot,' and many a tale was told of boyish pranks, and of the bonfires and fireworks of schoolboy days. There was no care for the future, no anticipation of evil; all was life, and thoughtlessness, and mirth. Alas! alas! how little did we think what one day might bring forth! At daylight of the 5th, it was blowing a heavy gale from the northward, a quarter from which there is no shelter in Table Bay. The sea came tumbling in in long and heavy surges, and the ship plunged deeply and violently. The hands were called out at ten o'clock--'Down yards and masts!' The fore and main yards were lowered, and the topmasts were struck, and the ship, relieved by the removal of so much top weight, rode more easily. At noon, so little apprehension was felt for the effects of the storm, that a salute was fired in commemoration of the day. The gale gradually increased in violence; and at half-past twelve, after a heavy pitch, the cry was heard, 'The small bower has parted!'--'Let go the sheet!' was the order in reply, followed by the heavy plunge of the anchor. Such a mountainous sea was running at this time, that every soul on board seemed to anticipate the fatal result that followed. The ship was pitching bows under, shipping green seas over all--the sky was murky black--vivid flashes of lightning burst from it almost incessantly--and the loud rattling of the thunder, every now and then, was heard far above the howling of the gale and the roaring of the sea. Every eye was fixed in eager anxiety on the cables, which every now and then were buried in the sea, and then, as the ship rose to the swell, were seen far ahead of her, high above the surface of the water, stiff and rigid as bars of iron.

"I know not how it happened, but, amid all the uproar around me, surrounded by faces which spoke but too plainly fears for the result, and conscious that our danger was imminent, I felt a kind of unnatural buoyancy of spirits, a secret conviction that, whatever might happen, I should escape unhurt. Telford stared at me, and muttered, 'The lad's fey, as they used to say in the North.' At two o'clock, the best bower cable parted, and the spare anchor was let go, but the cable went almost immediately. Our danger was now most imminent; our sole dependence was on our sheet cable; and it was evident to all on board that _that_ could not long resist the heavy strain. Our ensign was now hoisted, union downward, that well-known signal of extreme distress; and the mournful booming of our guns seemed to our excited imaginations to be the knell of our passing minutes. At seven o'clock, a cry was heard, which, like an electric shock, was passed from one end of the ship to the other in a moment, stunning the most daring spirits with its dreaded import. The sheet cable had parted, and the ship was at the mercy of the wind and sea. An order was now given for every man to provide for his own safety, and a scene of the greatest confusion ensued. For about ten minutes, the ship continued to drive before the wind, and then struck, with a dreadful crash, upon a reef of rocks, broadside to the shore. The main and mizzen masts were immediately cut away, and the foremast soon after went by the board. To add to our horrors, the gun-room was discovered to be on fire, and in a short time the smoke came eddying up from the different hatchways in such volumes as to prevent any communication with the lower deck. Feeble would have been the efforts of man in opposing the devouring flame; but here, element was fighting against element, and the sea claimed the mastery; the vast bodies of water which were constantly dashing over the ship effected, in about ten minutes, what no human exertion could have performed, and we were saved from a fiery, to anticipate a watery death. The scene on board the wreck was now awful in the extreme; every sea that broke over her swept away new victims; and those who were left clinging to life with the energy of despair, shuddered, as they missed their companions, in the anticipation of their own approaching doom. Several of the crew, maddened by the horror of a slow and lingering death, plunged desperately into the jaws of their watery tomb, to put an end at once to their suspense; and others, in a vain attempt to reach the shore, were carried out to sea by the eddy, and perished miserably, crying in vain for help from their helpless shipmates. About half-past nine, the poop was washed away, and forming a large raft, afforded a flattering prospect of deliverance. Seventy or eighty of the crew jumped overboard, and, by great exertion, contrived to reach it. We who remained on board watched their motions with intense anxiety, and, for the moment, forgot our own danger in the contemplation of theirs. An involuntary shout burst from us, when we saw them reaching the raft in safety, and borne onwards towards the shore; but, alas! a heavy sea struck the floating wreck when only a short distance from the beach, and, turning it over and over, engulfed all its wretched occupants.

"'Poor fellows!' said Telford, who was clinging to the ring-bolts by my side, 'their cruise is up! They've reached their anchorage, and we may get our ground-tackle ready as soon as we like!'

"'Oh no!' replied I; 'while there's life there's hope, Telford. Keep up your heart, man--we shall weather this bout yet.'

"'Heaven in its mercy grant that _you_ may, Mr Dalzell! but there is a weight on _my_ heart, a dark feeling that my hour has come. I shall never see the bonny banks of Tweed again--never, never! If you should live, sir, to get back to Kelso, tell my good old father----'

"'Hold on for your life!' shouted I, as a giant sea came rushing and roaring towards the wreck.

"It burst over us; and when, gasping and half-suffocated, I was able to open my eyes, I looked round--my poor companion was gone. A dark body was visible, for a moment, on the surface of the sea, some forty yards distant, and that was the last I saw of my kind friend Telford. Soon after this, the wreck gave a heavy lurch towards the shore, and then, as the sea receded, rolled back again, and separated into three parts. I caught hold of some part of the floating wreck, and, after being repeatedly washed off, and recovering my station, I contrived to lash myself securely to it, and then exhausted nature found relief in insensibility. When I recovered, I found myself lying on the beach, surrounded by the bodies of my unfortunate shipmates, and, raising myself on my knees, I breathed a silent thanksgiving to Heaven for my almost miraculous escape. Hearing a faint groan near me, I groped my way towards the spot whence the sound proceeded--the night was very dark, but a flash of lightning revealed to me the object of my search. It was the body of a seaman stretched upon his back--the right arm extended on the sand, and the left covering the face. At first I thought it was a corpse that lay before me, so stiff, so cold, so motionless did it seem to be; but, on putting my hand on the breast, I felt the pulsation of the heart, and in a few moments low stifled moanings were heard, like those of a person labouring under the influence of nightmare. I spoke to the sleeper, but without receiving any answer; but, the muttering still continuing, I shook him gently.

"'Holloa!' shouted he, as he started to his feet.

"What was my surprise and delight, when I recognised the voice of Telford, whom I thought I had seen swallowed up by the waves.

"'Telford!' said I, 'is that you?'

"'Why, who else should it be?' replied he; 'eh, old boy, who else should it be?'

"To my great surprise, I now perceived that my poor shipmate was half-seas-over, as we call it.

"'Telford.' said I, 'do you not know me?'

"'Oh, Mr Dalzell! I ax your pardon; I didn't know it was you, seeing that all cats are grey alike in the dark. I've had a reglar snooze; but I hope I may never snooze again, if I'm to have such another dream.'

"'What have you been dreaming about?'

"'Why, sir, I dreamed I was a-drowning, and that I was going down, down, down, when I heard your voice calling out, 'Come, Telford, I'm not an admiral yet;' and with that you took me by the cuff of the neck, and then I opened my eyes, and you had a hold o' me, sure enough. But d--n--ax your pardon, sir,' said he, fumbling about; 'but it's enough to make a parson swear.'

"'Why, what's the matter?'

"'Why, sir, I've lost my call;[15] no wonder my pipe's put out.'

[Footnote 15: Silver whistle, used by the boatswain and his mates.]

"'Is that all? You may thank Heaven you did not lose your life. You had little hope of saving it when we last parted.'

"'Indeed! why, then, it can't have been a dream, after all. Blowed if I don't think I'm a little crazy in my upper works; my head is all in a whirl, and there's fifty thousand sparks dancing before my eyes. I say, Mr Dalzell, what was that you said about losing life, and all that gammon? Ax your pardon, sir--hopes no offence,' continued he, laying his hand with drunken familiarity upon my shoulder. 'Holloa! why, you're as wet as a half-wrung swab, and I'm not much better myself! What's the meaning of that?'

"'Why, the meaning of it is, that we have both had a most providential escape from drowning. You must be crazy, indeed, if you have already forgot the sad events of the last few hours. When you were swept off the wreck of the poor old Dareall, I little expected to see you again. I could almost have sworn that I saw you go down.'

"'The wreck!--ay, I remember it all now! Providential escape, _indeed_. Only think of a man, as my old father used to say, putting an enemy into his mouth to steal away his brains! I had clean forgotten all about it. Howsoever, I'll take my 'davy I was so full of water, that, afore I knowed what I was about, I took rum enough in to make me a _tumbler_--ha, ha!'

"'You seem to treat the matter very lightly, Telford; I see nothing laughable in it.'

"'Why, Lord love your honour, when the grog's in, the wit's out, you know, as the old song says.'

"'But where did you get the grog? You were sober enough, and sad enough, goodness knows, when we parted; and how did you escape?'

"'Why, your honour, I rode ashore on the back of a breaker,[16] and, as soon as I landed, I knocked my horse on the head, and found a drop of capital rum inside, and, as I was devilish cold and wet, I made a little too free with it mayhap.'

[Footnote 16: Breaker--a small cask.]

"'Well, well, it's fortunate it's no worse. Can you walk, do you think? We had better make the best of our way to the town.'

"'Walk!--to be sure I can, your honour, though perhaps I may steer a little wild or so; but, if you'll heave ahead, I'll follow in your wake, and then you won't be so apt to notice me if I give a yaw now and then.'

"We soon fell in with a party of light dragoons, by whom we were most kindly welcomed, and who assisted us in making our way to Cape Town. We afterwards heard that these gallant fellows had greatly distinguished themselves during that awful night by their humane daring; forcing their horses into the surf, to rescue the struggling survivors of the crew, many of whom would have perished but for their timely aid. In the town, we met with several of our unfortunate shipmates, to whom and to ourselves the inhabitants behaved with the greatest kindness and attention. At daylight next morning, a mournful sight presented itself; and we then ascertained the full extent of our sad loss. The whole line of beach was thickly strewed with dead bodies, and fragments of the wreck. There were only four officers and about fifty men saved--three of the lieutenants, the purser, surgeon, and two midshipmen, were fortunately on shore at the time of the accident; all the rest of the officers, and about three hundred and fifty seamen, perished. Three waggon-loads of corpses were taken to a place near the hospital, and interred; and about one hundred bodies, dreadfully mangled, were buried in one large pit on the beach, near where they were found. The body of my kind friend, the captain, was never recovered, but those of the other officers were interred, the Sunday following, with military honours. So ended my unfortunate outset in the Dareall. The survivors of her crew were drafted into other ships, and the officers were sent home by the first opportunity. I afterwards joined the Sunbeam frigate, and in due course of time got my promotion in her. As soon as she was paid off, I hastened to Kelso, fondly hoping there to find the prize, the hopes of obtaining which had for years cheered me onwards. You know how I have been disappointed. And now, my kind friends, the story of my adventures is ended."

"Oh," said I, "you have told us the _story_, but not the _whole_ story; you have still an account to give of your cruise in the Sunbeam; do not flatter yourself you are going to escape so easily."

"You must excuse me, my dear sir; I am not accustomed to act as my own trumpeter; when Telford comes, he may take the office upon himself."

"What became of that poor fellow? He must be a rough diamond."

"Rough enough; but as good-hearted a fellow, and as fine a specimen of his class, as ever lived. I wonder he has not been here before this time, for I told him I meant to come here; and he said he would give you 'a hail' as he went past, to let you know I was coming. I suppose he has 'hove to,' as he would call it, by the way."

"But how does he know the place?"

"Oh, he knew the neighbourhood from my description of it immediately; and, said he, 'if I make his number when I get there, some one will tell me where he hangs out.'"

"Well, I shall be glad to see him whenever he comes. Anna, my love," said I to my wife, "Mr Dalzell will be ready, I daresay, to do justice to your luncheon whenever it makes its appearance."

We were comfortably seated at the table, discussing our strawberries and cream, when the sound of a loud shrill whistle thrilled through our ears, followed by a rough hoarse voice, bellowing words which my wife and I could not understand. We both started from our seats, and ran to the window, which was open to admit the cool air, though the blind was down to exclude the sun. Dalzell sat still, and burst out laughing. On drawing up the blind, we saw a stout, dark-looking man, with an open and cheerful countenance, dressed like a sailor. His little shining tarpaulin hat was _flapped_ down upon the back of his head, and his long black hair hung in curls about his forehead and ears. His left arm was "absent without leave" from his empty sleeve, and in his right hand he held the little silver pipe which had caused all the commotion.

"Ax your pardon, sir," said he, touching his hat, when he saw me; "I made bold to call the hands out to muster, to see if one Leaftennan Dalzell would answer to his name. Hopes no offence, sir."

"Ah, Telford, my fine fellow, how are you?" said Dalzell, peeping over our shoulders.

"God bless your honour!" said he, respectfully raising his hat; "I'm as pleased to hear the sound of your voice as if it were the pipe to grog."

"That's saying a great deal, Tom. Why, you sway about _now_ as if you were a little top-heavy."

"Oh no, your honour; I've only been freshening the nip[17] once or twice, and my bread-basket's a little empty."

[Footnote 17: Sailor's term for taking a dram.]

"Well, come in, Tom," said I, "and we'll try to fill it for you."

Tom was soon established in a comfortable berth in the kitchen, and did ample justice to the good cheer which was placed in abundance before him. As soon as he had good time to shake his cargo into its place, he was summoned into the parlour. At first he demurred a little to change his quarters, saying that he was more in his own place in the galley[18] than in the cabin; but his reluctance was overcome when he saw spirits and water precede him. When he came in, he stood in the doorway, making sundry bobbing attempts at a bow, twirling his hat round and round, and looking as bashful as a young maiden.

[Footnote 18: Kitchen.]

"Come in, Tom," said I. "Sit down, and tell us all your adventures."

Tom, however, was too polite a man, in his own way, to sit down in the presence of his officer, till the lieutenant said--

"Come, come, Tom, bring yourself to an anchor at once."

Thus authorised, he plumped into a chair, and, putting his hat under it, carefully deposited there a large quid of tobacco, which he dislodged from its snug quarters in his left cheek.

"Now, Tom, carry on," said Mr Dalzell.

"Why, your honour," said Tom, slyly glancing at the table, "I'm in no spirits for spinning a yarn just now."

I laughed, and filled a tumbler with whisky and water, to which Tom paid his respects with evident satisfaction.

"Mr Dalzell has told us," said I, "of your escape from the wreck of the Dareall--and a wonderful one it was."

"You _may_ say that," replied he; "I never had such a narrow squeak in my life."

"But tell us something about yourself, and Mr Dalzell. I suppose you have been in action together?"

"Action!--Lord love ye, sir, we were hardly ever out of it! If I were to tell you all, I'd have nothing else to do for the next week. I always said I'd live to see him an admiral, and I say so still; and if ever man deserved a flag, there sits the man, for a braver officer and a better seaman never trod a plank, though I says it as shouldn't say it, seeing as how I first taught him to reef and steer."

"Come, come, Tom," interrupted Dalzell, "if you are going to spin such a yarn as that, the sooner you cut it the better."

"Ax your honour's pardon, but I must speak. Didn't you save my life in that 'ere action with the Flower-de-louce? Haven't you been the best friend to me I ever had? Haven't you often saved me from the gangway when I've dipped my whiskers too deep into the grog-kid? And can I sit quiet with such a glass as this before me?" emptying the tumbler as he spoke.

"Well, that's enough, Tom. If you're so fond of your grog, you had better get on with your story as fast as you can, for not a drop more shall you taste till you have finished."

"But, bless your heart, sir, how am I to begin? I'm like a marine adrift on a grating, or an ass in a hay-field. I've got lots o' yarns to tell, but I don't know which way to turn myself among them."

"Well," said Dalzell, "I'll go and take a walk, and leave you to your own devices;" and he left the room.