CHAPTER XII.
DID I BEAR IT LIKE A MAN, WALTER?
IT was nearly one o’clock at night, when the brigantine hove to, offthe rock, a boat put off, and the sharp voice of Ned, crying, “Are youthere, Walter?” came over the waves. But it was now blowing fresh, thesky obscured by clouds, and no possibility of landing on the rock,which was white with foam, it being so small that the sea ran all roundit. The boat, pulled by men who had been all their lives brought upamong the surf, and accustomed to working around breakers, was backedin within two seas of the rock, and held there by the oars, while shestood almost on end.
“Now, shipmate,” said Danforth Eaton, standing up in the stern sheets,with a coil of rope in his hand, “look out for the line, and jump forit.”
Walter caught the line, and making it fast round his waist, flunghimself into the surf, and was hauled aboard, where he was joyfullyreceived by Ned, to whom one day and a portion of two nights had seemeda week.
When the young captain had received Walter’s information, hecomplimented him very much for the shrewdness he had manifested;and as all were equally interested (the profits of the voyage beingdivided in this manner, the vessel, that is, the owners, drew a certainproportion, the captain, mates, and crew another, according to theirrank), he spread the whole matter before the ship’s company.
Said the young captain to his crew, “The wind is fair, and plenty ofit; the tide also is with us, and sets up the harbor; we should golike a shot; the frigate and sixty-four are out of the way; there isno moon, and it is overcast; if they fire at us, they will have tofire by guess, for they can’t sight over the black cannon; probably weshall not have so many things in our favor again. I am in for trying itto-night; but I want your opinions, for we must run the risk of theirbroadsides.”
“I reckon,” said Danforth Eaton, “that when we shipped aboard thiscraft, we knew what we had to kalkerlate on; we expect to get ourprofit out of our risk; I’m for trying it now.”
His opinion being assented to by the crew, the brigantine, with aspanking breeze and every sail set, was steered directly for theroadstead, a little over two miles distant. It seemed but a moment,so rapid was her progress, before the high lands of Marseilles werethrowing their shadows before her path. Walter acting as secondmate, his station was in his watch on deck, aft. He, however, stillshared Ned’s berth, as the second mate was sick in his own. It wasnow his watch below; but in the present circumstances, no one feltany inclination to sleep, and he was, with all the rest of the crew,forward. At such a time, it is natural for those most acquainted toget together, and the men were divided into little knots, conversingin low tones. Walter, Enoch Hadlock, and Ben Peterson, having beenschoolmates, and grown up together, formed one group, with Ned nestledclose to the side of Walter.
“Walter,” said Ben, “do you expect, if we make the run, and a heap ofmoney, to have the second mate’s share, while he’s off duty?”
“No, indeed; I have no right to it. He can’t help having a carbuncle. Iwouldn’t take it if it was offered me. I wouldn’t be so mean.”
“But if you’re doing second mate’s duty—”
“The honor pays for that.”
“Perhaps you think it is a stepping-stone. I hope it is.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“We shall soon see what our young captain is made of,” said Eaton, asthe dark hull and long masts of the ship of the line began to appear;“I only wish we were well through it.”
A man-o’-war cutter was now seen on the lee bow.
“What ship is that?” was the hail.
“The Severn, supply.”
Thus boats and ships were passed, the night being too dark, and thebrigantine going too quick to admit of a close scrutiny. The nameof the expected store-ship being given, also completely disarmedsuspicion. They were now rapidly nearing the flag-ship, of a hundredguns—the last and most fearful ordeal. A death-like stillness nowpervaded the brigantine, broken only by the rushing of the vesselthrough the water, the straining of the cordage, and the moan of thewind through the rigging.
“Walter,” whispered Ned, “do you feel afraid?”
“No, Ned; do you?”
“I guess not; but I feel as I never did before. I wish we were doingsomething, and it was not so dreadfully still,” said the boy, puttinghis arm round his companion’s waist, as they sat side by side on thewindlass, gazing through the darkness at the lights of the man-of-war.“Kiss me, Walter.”
He put his arms round his friend, and pressed his lips to his cheek.So dark was the night now grown, and so rapid the passage of thevessel, that the stern lights of the ship bore over the cat-head of thebrigantine.
The young captain now took the helm, when a hail came from the shipthat thrilled the blood of every man on board.
“What ship is that? Reply, or I’ll sink you.”
“The Severn, store vessel.”
The ports of the man-of-war were triced up, and by the gleam of thebattle lantern, the gunners could be seen standing by their pieces.
“Ay, ay. Come to, under the stern, and report on board at six o’clockin the morning.”
“Ay, ay,” was the reply; and “Hard a-lee! Haul aft the main sheet!”were shouted, in loud tones, on board the brigantine.
The officer of the deck, who could distinguish nothing, hearing theseorders, was for an instant deceived—an instant that was the salvationof the brigantine, going twelve knots under the combined force of windand tide. Perceiving immediately that it was a ruse, he gave orders tofire. The horizon was lit up by the flash of guns, and the midnightstillness broken by the roar of cannon. But so well had the brigantineimproved her opportunity, that but one or two of the forward guns werebrought to bear on her.
As the iron shower came hurtling on, and passed, a groan was heard nearthe foot of the main-mast. It came from little Ned, who was struck ashe came aft with an order from the pilot.
“Bear it like a man, Neddie,” cried Walter, as he held him in his arms.“Are you hurt much?”
“Yes, bad, Walter.” And he fainted.
“Take care of him,” said the captain, “till the vessel is brought to.”
For a few moments every one was exerting himself to the utmost, inorder to bring the vessel, under such a press of sail, to anchor underthe guns of the castle of St. Nicolas.
She was somewhat disabled, a round shot having cut off her main boomat the jaws to such an extent that it broke and fell on deck, carryingaway the rail. Several shot had passed through the sails and bulwarks,one had cut off the tiller-head, and the mate had received a wound inthe leg; so that the attention of the captain was fully occupied intaking care of the vessel.
During this period, which, though really but a short time, seemed anage to Walter, he sat with his back against the main-mast, his armsaround Neddie’s waist, and felt the warm blood oozing slowly throughhis fingers.
The artillery now began to thunder from the castle at the boats of thefleet, which, enraged at the audacity and success of the enterprise,endeavored to follow and cut out the brigantine, but, finding the enemyaware of their designs, relinquished it.
A boat was immediately sent to the castle for a surgeon, who, havingrestored Ned by stimulants, proceeded to examine his hurts, andascertained that he had received a severe flesh wound in the thigh froma splinter, parts of which still remained in the wound. He had alsoreceived a musket ball in the groin, which, passing round the bodywithout breaking the bone, could be felt in the flesh of the back, nearthe spine. Being just beneath the skin, he pronounced neither of thewounds mortal.
“Thank God for that!” exclaimed the captain.
The surgeon wished to fasten him to the cabin table while he performedthe operation; but Ned resisted this, declaring he could bear it if thecaptain would stand beside him, and Walter would hold his hand. Theextraction of the splinters was more painful than even the cutting forthe ball; but the little fellow bore it all with firmness, scarcelyuttering a groan, and
without aid from any of the means now in use toproduce insensibility, they being at that period unknown.
“Didn’t I bear it like a man, Walter?” asked Ned, when the operationwas over.
“Bravely,” answered Walter.
The captain would not send Ned to the hospital, but hired a room forhim in the house of Jacques Bernoux, the fisherman whose acquaintanceWalter made on the rock, and sent Walter and Peterson alternately totake care of him, going daily himself to see him.
Ned, who was as sweet-tempered as ambitious, had always been the petof the crew, most of whom he had known while at Pleasant Cove; theywere, therefore, always ready to watch of a night whenever needed, andthere were so many of them that the duty was not at all burdensome.
Boys of Ned’s age learn a language with great rapidity, and he soonbegan to pick up words, and talk with the people of the house. Nothingcould exceed the kindness of Peterson to the little wounded fellow. Hewas so strong he could lift him easily, and, as he gradually recovered,made him many little messes (being a skillful cook) that were verygrateful to the convalescent. Ned began to love his black frienddearly, and always called him James.
To the surprise of all but the surgeon, Ned recovered a great dealfaster than the first mate, Mr. Rogers, who was only wounded in theleg, the ball passing through. The wound continued to run, and seemedas if it never would heal, while Ned could walk across the floor withthe aid of Walter.
One day Ned was sitting in a chair, propped up with pillows, andeating, with the greatest relish, a nice breakfast Peterson hadprepared for him. “James,” said he, laying down his knife and fork,“I’m glad I was wounded.”
“Glad you wounded! Glad you hab so much pain, be sick so long, make decap’n so much trouble, all ob us feel bad! Nebber hear sich ting afore.”
“I didn’t mean I was glad of that, or that I should want to be woundedagain; but I’m glad, now it’s over, I’ve been through it.”
“I know what you tink; you tink, when you git home to Salem, farder,mudder so glad cause you wasn’t killed; den, when you walks in destreet, all de people say, ‘Dere Ned Gates; he one smart boy; he beenshipwrecked, almost starve on a raft; been wounded two times runnin’ deblockade; see what dat boy been through.’ Den all de boys dey open dereeyes wide and stare, say notin’.”
“That is it, James. I _have_ been through a good deal—haven’t I, for aboy no older than I am?”
“Dat de Lord; he carry you through dat cause you good boy.”
“I ain’t a very good boy, James.”
“What de reason? Cap’n say you good boy, mate say you good boy,eberybody say so.”
The brigantine, as she lay under the guns of the fort, was recognizedby the officers of the blockading fleet as the vessel they had chased,and so nearly taken, and they determined she should not escape them asecond time, therefore kept incessant watch.
The roadstead of Marseilles is exposed to severe gales, during which,the blockading fleet were compelled to run to sea. The captain of thebrigantine had made too much money to run any unnecessary risk ingetting home; he, therefore, determined to wait for a gale of wind thatshould drive his antagonists to sea, before he attempted to run out.This gave time for Ned to recover sufficiently to go in the vessel. Asthe mate, Mr. Rogers, was not well enough to do duty, Walter was putin his place, which offended the second mate very much, who thought,and said to the captain, that the place belonged to him; to whichthe captain replied, that Griffin had run some risk in volunteeringto go on the rock; that it was _principally_, if not entirely, dueto his shrewdness in getting hold of the fisherman, and obtainingthe information he did from the English sailor, that their adventuresucceeded, and they were not sunk by the man-of-war. He thereforeconsidered promotion no more than a suitable reward, especially as thesecond mate, though a good seaman, was not a navigator. Thus Walterexperienced at the outset the benefit of knowledge, as well as of pluckand principle.