By Conduct and Courage: A Story of the Days of Nelson

“One of the first things we must do,” said Will, “is to dirty these white jackets and trousers so that we may look like field labourers, for then if anyone should catch sight of us in the distance we should attract no attention.”

They walked all night, and just as morning was breaking they saw a large country house with the usual garden. They climbed over the wall, which was not high, and drew some water in a bucket which they found standing at the mouth of the well.

“This bucket we will confiscate,” Will said; “we can hardly lie hidden all day without having a drink. Of course they will miss it; but when they cannot find it they will suppose that it has been mislaid or stolen. One of the gardeners will probably get the blame, but we can’t help that. Now we will go another mile and then look for a hiding-place. There are a lot of sand-hills scattered about, and if we can’t find a hole that will suit us we must scoop one out. I believe they are pretty hard inside, but our crowbars will soon make a place large enough.”

After an hour’s walk they fixed upon a spot on the shady side of a hill and began to make a cave that would allow the three to lie side by side. The work was completed in less than an hour, and they crawled in and scraped up some of the fallen sand so as partially to close the mouth behind them.

“Thank goodness, we have got shelter and water!” Will said. “As for food, we must forage for it to-night.”

“I am quite content to go without it for to-day,” Dimchurch said, “and to lie here and sleep and do nothing. I don’t think anything would tempt me to get up and walk a mile farther, not even the prospects of a good dinner.”

“Well, as we are all so tired we shall probably sleep till evening.”

In a few minutes all were asleep. Once or twice in the course of the day they woke up and took a drink from the bucket and then fell off again. At sunset all sat up quite refreshed.

“I begin to feel that I have an appetite,” Will said; “now I think, for to-night, we will content ourselves with going into one of the fields and plucking a lot of the ears of maize. Messages may have been sent out all over the country, and the people may be watchful. It will be wise to avoid all risk of discovery. We can gather a few sticks and make a fire in there to roast the maize; there are sand-hills all round, so what little flame we make would not be noticed.”

“But how about a light?” Dimchurch asked.

“I picked up a piece of flint as we came along this morn ing,” Will said, “and by means of one of these chisels we ought to be able to strike a light; a few dead leaves, finely crumbled up, should do instead of tinder.”

“It is a good thing to keep one’s eyes open,” Dimchurch remarked. “Now if I had seen that piece of stone I should not have given it a thought, and here it is going to give us a hot dinner!”

As there were numbers of fields in the neighbourhood they soon returned with an armful of maize each. Dried weeds and sticks were then collected, and after repeated failures a light was at last obtained, and soon the grain was roasted. A jacket was stretched across the entrance of their den so that, should anyone be passing near, they would not observe the light.

“Now,” Will said as they munched some maize the next evening, “we must start foraging. We will go in opposite directions, and each must take his bearing accurately or we’ll never come together again.”

They were out for some hours, and when they returned it was found that Will had come across four fowls, Tom had gathered a variety of fruit, consisting chiefly of melons and peaches, while Dimchurch, who was the last to come in, brought a small sheep.

“We only want one thing to make us perfect,” Will said,“and that is a pipe of ’bacca.”

“Well, that would be a welcome addition,” Tom admitted,“but it does not do to expect too much. I should not be at all surprised if we were to light upon some tobacco plants in one of the gardens, but of course it could hardly be like a properly dried leaf. I dare say, though, we could make something of it.”

So they lived for a month, sometimes better, sometimes worse, but with sufficient food of one sort or another. So far as they knew no suspicion of their presence had been excited, though their petty robberies must have been noticed. One evening, however, Will, on going to the top of the sand-hill, as he generally did, saw a large detachment of soldiers coming along, searching the ground carefully. He ran down at once to his companions.

“Take your weapons, lads,” he said, “and make off; a strong party of soldiers are searching the country, and they are coming this way. No doubt they are looking for us.”

They had run but a few hundred yards when they heard shouts, and, looking round, they saw a Moorish officer waving his hands and gesticulating. This was alarming, but they reckoned that they had fully five hundred yards start.

“Keep up a steady pace,” Will said; “I don’t expect the beggars can run faster than we can. It will be pitch dark in half an hour, and as, fortunately, there is no moon, I expect we’ll be able to give them the slip.”

As they advanced they found that the vegetation became scarcer and scarcer.

“I am afraid we are on the edge of a desert,” Will said,“which means that there are no more fowls and fruit for us. I see, Dimchurch, that you have been the most thoughtful this time. That half sheep and those cakes will be very valuable to us.”

“I wasn’t going to leave them for the soldiers if I knew it, sir; they wouldn’t have gone far among them, while they will last us some time with care.”

They changed their course several times as soon as it became quite dark, and presently had the satisfaction of hearing the shouts of their pursuers fade away behind them.

“Now we can take it quietly, lads. We can guide ourselves towards the sea by means of the stars. I fancy it must be fully twenty miles away. We must hold on till we get to it, and then gradually work our way along among the sand-hills or clumps of bush bordering it till we come to a village. Then we must contrive to get a good supply of food and water, steal a boat, and make off. If galleys were sent out to search for us they must have given it up long ago. As for other craft, we’ll have to take our chance with them.”

They kept steadily north and at last came down to the coast. As it was still dark they lay down till morning. When the sun rose they thought they could make out a village some eight miles away.

“Now it will be quite safe to cook our breakfast,” Dimchurch said.

“Yes, I think so,” Will answered, “but we must be sparing with the mutton; that is our only food at present, and it may be some little time before we get hold of anything else.”

After breakfast they lay down among the bushes and slept till evening. Then they started along the shore towards the village. When they got within half a mile of it they halted. They could see some boats on the shore, so they felt that the only difficulty in their way was the question of provisions. When it was quite dark they went into the village and started to forage, but on meeting again they had very little to show. Between them they had managed to take five fowls; but the village was evidently a poor place, for with the exception of a few melons there was no fruit.

“The beggars must have grain somewhere,” said Will.“They can’t live on fowls and melons.”

“I expect, sir, they live very largely on fish.”

“That is likely enough,” Will agreed. “Let us put down these fowls and melons under this bush, and have a nap for a couple of hours, till we are sure that everyone is asleep. We can then go down and have a look at the boats. Those of them that come in late may probably leave some of their catch on board.”

When they went down to the boats they found that three of them contained a fair quantity of fish. They helped themselves to some of these, and then retreated some distance from the village, picking up the other provisions on the way, and then, going into a clump of bushes, cooked a portion of the fish.

“That pretty well settles the question of provisions,” Will said. “We must choose a night when there is a good wind blowing offshore, so that we may run a good many miles before morning. Then we must trust to falling in with one of our cruisers.”

“Fish won’t keep long in this climate,” suggested Tom.

“No,” said Will, “but we can dry some of them in the sun and they will then keep good for some time. Then we might clean half a dozen fowls and cook them before we start.”

“The great difficulty will be water.”

“Yes, but we can get over that by stripping the gardens clean of their melons. They weigh four or five pounds apiece and would supply us with fluid for a week easily.”

The next evening they went down and made a more careful examination of the boats. One in particular attracted their attention. She was nearly new, and looked likely to be faster than the rest. She was anchored some fifty yards from the shore. Three more evenings were spent in prowling about the village collecting food. It was evident that the villagers were alarmed at their depredations, for on the third evening they were fired at by several men. In consequence of this they moved a mile farther away, in case a search should be made, and the next night carried the provisions down to the shore. As they were all expert swimmers they were soon alongside the chosen craft. They pushed the provisions before them on a small raft, and when they had put them on board they made a trip to one or two of the other boats and brought away some twenty pounds of fish. Then they cut the hawser and hoisted sail. As they did so they heard a great tumult on shore, and the villagers ran down to the water’s edge and opened fire upon them. The shooting, however, was wild, and they were very soon out of range. Several boats put off in pursuit. This caused them some uneasiness, and they watched them somewhat anxiously, for the wind, though favourable, was light, and they felt by no means certain that they would be able to keep ahead of the rowers. The stolen craft, however, proved unexpectedly fast, and the boats, after following fifteen miles without sensibly gaining, at last gave up the chase. About this time, too, the wind, to their great relief, became stronger, and the little vessel flew more and more rapidly over the sea.

“She is a fine craft,” Dimchurch said; “these Moors certainly know how to build boats. It would require a smart cutter to hold her own with us.”

Dimchurch kept at the helm and the other two investigated their capture. She was three parts decked. In the cabin they came upon a lantern and flint and steel, and soon had light, which helped them greatly in their work. In the bow ropes were stored away, while in a locker they found some bread, which, although stale, was very acceptable. They also unearthed two or three suits of rough sea clothes with which they were glad to replace the light clothes they had carried away with them from the palace grounds, for though the weather on shore was warm the sea-breeze was chilly. Among other useful things they also discovered several long knives, and axes, and a flat stone for cooking upon.

“Now it is all a question of luck,” Will said; “the danger will be greater when we get a bit farther out. All vessels going up and down the Mediterranean give the Barbary coast a wide berth. Of course those pirate fellows are most numerous along the line of traffic, but they are to be found right up to the Spanish, French, and Italian coasts, though of late, I fancy, they have not been so active. There are too many of our cruisers about for their taste, and the Spaniards, when they get a chance, show the scoundrels no mercy.”

When morning broke not a sail was visible.

“I think, sir,” Dimchurch said, “that there is going to be a change of weather, and that we are in for a gale.”

“It does not matter much. I fancy this boat would go through it however severe it might be.”

“Yes, sir, but it would check our progress, and we want to run north as fast as we can. I see, by the line you are making, that you are aiming at Toulon, and at our present pace it would take us something like four days to get there. If we are caught in a gale we may take two days longer.”

“That is so,” Will agreed; “but on the other hand, if the wind becomes much stronger we’ll have to take in sail, and in that case we should have more chance of escaping notice if we come near any of those Moorish craft. Besides, if the sea were really rough it would be difficult for them to board us even if they did come up with us.”

“You are right, sir; still, for myself, I should prefer a strong southerly wind and a clear sky.”

“Well, I am afraid you will not get your wish, for the clouds certainly seem to be banking up from the north, and we’ll get a change of wind ere long.”

By night the wind was blowing fiercely and the sea rapidly rising. The sails were closely reefed, and even then they felt with pleasure that the little craft was making good way. The wind increased during the night, and was blowing a gale by morning. Just at twelve o’clock a craft was seen approaching which all were convinced was an Algerine. She changed her course at once and bore down upon them, firing a gun as a signal for them to stop.

“She is rather faster than we are,” Dimchurch said, “but we’ll lead her a good dance before she gets hold of us. She could not work her guns in this sea, and if she is the faster, at least we are the handier.”

For three hours the chase continued. Again and again the Algerine came up on them, but each time the little boat, turning almost on her heel, so cleverly was she handled, glided away from underneath the enemy’s bows. Each time, when they saw the chase slipping away from them, the angry Moors sent a volley of musketry after her, but the fugitives took refuge in the cabin, or lay down on the deck close under the bulwarks, and so escaped.

Soon the Moors were so intent on the chase that they began to take great risks with their own vessel. In fact, they became positively reckless. For this they paid very heavily. After many disappointments they felt that the fugitives were at last in their clutches, and were preparing to board her when suddenly Dimchurch put down his helm sharply. He nearly capsized the little craft, and indeed they would rather have gone down with her than fall into the hands of the Moors again, but she righted immediately, and once more skimmed away from her pursuers. In the excitement of the moment the Moorish steersman attempted the same manœuvre. If he had succeeded he would probably have run down the cockle-shell that had baffled him so long. But at that moment a violent squall struck his ship with its full force, and her mainmast snapped a few feet above the deck. The three fugitives jumped to their feet and cheered, and then calmly proceeded on their way.

CHAPTER XII

BACK ON THE “TARTAR”

The next morning broke fair. Their late foe had dropped out of sight on the previous evening, but now, when the sun rose, Tom made out the top-sails of a large ship on the horizon.

“She is coming towards us, lads, and by the course she is steering she will pass within three miles of us. Is she English or French?”

“She is too far away yet to be certain,” Dimchurch said,“but I can’t help thinking she is French.”

“At any rate, Dimchurch, our best course will be to lower the sail, shake the reef-points out, and have it ready for hoisting at a moment’s notice. Now that the wind is light again I should fancy we could get away from her; with a start of two or three miles she would have no chance whatever of catching us.”

Suddenly Tom Stevens exclaimed:

“There is a sail coming up from behind. She looks to me close-hauled. If both ships come on they are bound to meet; if one is French and the other is English they are likely to have a talk to each other. In that case we should be able to tell friend from foe by the colours, and could then make for the English ship.”

They sat anxiously watching the two ships, and soon they saw that the point of meeting must be very near their own position. Presently their hulls became visible, and Dimchurch pronounced one to be a thirty-two-gun frigate, and the other a forty or forty-two. They then made out that the one coming up from the south was flying the white ensign, and at once they hoisted their sail and made for her. Equally intent upon a fight, the two vessels approached each other without paying the slightest attention to the little craft.

“The Frenchman means fighting, and as he has ten guns to the good he may well think he is more than a match for our ship. Do you know her, Dimchurch?”

“I think she is the Lysander, sir, though I can’t be sure; there are so many of these thirty-twos.”

The vessels, as they passed, exchanged broadsides. Then both tacked, but the Englishman was the quicker, and he raked the French frigate as she came round. Then they went at it hammer and tongs. The Frenchman suffered very heavily in spars and rigging, but at last the foremast of the English ship fell over her side. The Frenchman at once closed with her, and after pouring in a broadside, tried to board her.

The little boat bore up to the stern of the English ship. A desperate conflict was going on at that point, and failing to get up they moved along the side. Here a rope, which had been cut by the French fire, was hanging overboard, and, grasping this, they climbed up to a port-hole. The deck was deserted, all hands having rushed up to meet the attack of the French boarders. Without a moment’s delay they snatched cutlasses from a rack and ran up the companion to the upper deck.

Here things were going somewhat badly. The French were much more numerous than the English, and were forcing them back by sheer weight of numbers. The new-comers rushed at once into the fray, and laid about them lustily. The force and suddenness of the onslaught caused the enemy to hesitate, and at the same time it had the effect of inspiring to fresh efforts the English crew, who, having lost their captain and first lieutenant, were beginning to lose heart. They answered the cheers of their strangely-clad allies, and with one accord charged to meet them. At that moment Dimchurch almost severed the French captain’s head from his body by a sweeping blow, and the French, being disheartened by the loss of their leader, gave way. The English sailors redoubled their efforts, and after ten minutes of desperate fighting succeeded in driving their foes back to their own ship. Then the men ran to their guns again and the cannonade recommenced. But the spirit of the two crews had changed. The French were discouraged by their failure, and the British were exultant over their success. Consequently the guns of the English ship were fired with far more rapidity and precision than those of the French. Several of the port-holes of the French ship were knocked into one, and when at last her mainmast, which had been hit several times, fell over her side, her flag was run down amidst tremendous cheering from the English ship.

Immediately all hands were engaged in disarming and securing the French prisoners. When these had been sent below, the decks of both ships were cleared of the dead. Then the bulk of the crew set to work to cut away the wreckage, secure damaged spars, and stop holes near the water’s edge. At last the second lieutenant, who was now in command, had time to turn to the strangers. Will was superintending the work, while Dimchurch and Tom were working hand in hand with the crew.

“May I ask,” said the lieutenant, addressing Will, “who it is that has so mysteriously come to our assistance?”

“Certainly,” said Will, laughing; “I had quite forgotten that I am clothed in strange garments. I am a midshipman belonging to the Tartar. One of my companions is a boatswain’s mate, and the other is an A.B. on the same ship. We were sent with a lieutenant and ten men to overhaul a craft which, though she was somewhat suspicious looking, seemed to have but a small crew. When we got alongside her, however, we found to our disgust that she was manned by at least a hundred Algerines. The lieutenant and seven of the crew were killed, and three others, my two companions, and myself were made prisoners and carried to Algiers. We three escaped, and, capturing the small craft which you will see lying by the side of your ship, made for the open sea. An Algerine nearly recaptured us in the gale yesterday, but fortunately she carried away her mast and we again escaped. This morning we saw two ships approaching us, and when we made out their nationalities we knew there was bound to be a fight. Naturally we made for your ship, and when we found that the French had boarded you we did our best to aid you to drive them back. My name is Gilmore.”

“Well, Mr. Gilmore, I have to thank you most heartily for the very efficacious aid you have rendered us. Things were going very badly, but your unexpected appearance, your strange attire, and the strength and bravery with which you fought, quite turned the tables. I think,” he said with a laugh, “the French must have taken you for three devils come to our assistance, and certainly you could not have fought harder if you had been. You will, I hope, give us your assistance until we reach Malta, to which port, of course, I shall carry the prize. Our third lieutenant is severely wounded, and I have lost two of my midshipmen.”

“Certainly, sir, and I will place myself at once under your orders.”

“The two midshipmen who have fallen were the seniors,”the lieutenant said, “and as you must be two or three years older than the others I’ll appoint you acting-lieutenant. Our first duty here will be to rig up a jury foremast. I’ll appoint you, however, temporary commander of the Camille, which is, I see, the name of our prize. I can only spare you forty men. We have lost forty-three killed and at least as many wounded, and I have therefore only a hundred and ten altogether fit for service, and must retain seventy for the work of refitting. I should not attempt to get up a jury mainmast on the Camille. It will be better to clear away the wreckage and secure her other two masts in case we meet with another squall.”

“I understand, sir. If either of the midshipmen that have been killed is about my size, I should be glad to rig myself out with a suit from his chest, for my appearance at present is rather undignified for a British officer. I should also be glad if the purser’s clerk would issue a couple of suits for my two men. I may tell you that they have been with me in every ship in which I have served, and indeed entered the navy with me. I therefore regard them quite as personal friends. The bigger of the two held the position of boatswain under me in a small craft of which I had command in the West Indies, as well as on the Tartar.”

“Very well, then, by all means give him the temporary rank of boatswain on board the Camille, and you can appoint the other as boatswain’s mate.”

“Thank you, sir! I am very much obliged. It would be difficult to find two better men.”

In ten minutes Will was attired in a midshipman’s uniform, and his two companions, to their great relief, in the clothes of British seamen. They then crossed to the Camille with the forty men whom the lieutenant had told off as a prize crew. Work was at once begun, and before sundown the fore and mizzen masts were as firmly secured as if the mainmast were still in its place. Will felt that they could now meet a storm without uneasiness. Next morning the repairs to the hull were begun, pieces of plank covered with tarred canvas being nailed over the shot-holes, and ere the day was done theCamille had a fairly presentable appearance. Meanwhile the crew of the Lysander had been hard at work, and had got the jury-foremast into position and securely stayed.

“You have made a very good job of the prize, Mr. Gilmore,”the lieutenant said. “Of course she is a lame duck without her mainmast, but we’ll sail together, and so will show a good face to any single ship we may meet.”

“I should certainly think so, sir. Should any ship heave in sight I will get all the guns loaded on both broadsides. Of course, I should only be able to work one side at a time, but with forty good men I could keep up a pretty hot fire.”

“I will give you ten more, Mr. Gilmore. Now that our repairs are finished I can manage that easily, and as theCamille is a bigger ship than the Lysander you ought certainly to have as many as can be spared.”