CHAPTER XXI
A GRACIOUS MERCY
As a matter of course, every gunner at the fort was ready to make oathby every colour of the rainbow, that never shot, shell, wad, sponge, oreven powder-flake could by any possibility have fallen on the beach. Andbefore they had time to grow much more than doubly positive--that is tosay, within three days' time--the sound of guns fired in earnest drownedall questions of bad practice.
For the following Sunday beheld Springhaven in a state of excitementbeyond the memory of the very oldest inhabitant, or the imagination ofthe youngest. Excitement is a crop that, to be large, must grow--thoughit thrives all the better without much root--and in this particularfield it began to grow before noon of Saturday. For the men who weretoo old to go to sea, and the boys who were too young, and the womenwho were never of the proper age, all these kept looking from the bestlookouts, but nothing could they see to enable them to say when thekettle, or the frying-pan, or gridiron, would be wanted. They rubbedtheir eyes grievously, and spun round three times, if time had broughtor left them the power so to spin; and they pulled an Irishhalfpenny, with the harp on, from their pockets, and moistened it withsaliva--which in English means spat on it--and then threw it into thepocket on the other side of body. But none of these accredited appealsto heaven put a speck upon the sea where the boats ought to have been,or cast upon the clouds a shade of any sail approaching. Uneasilywondering, the grannies, wives, and little ones went home, when thenightfall quenched all eyesight, and told one another ancient tales ofwoe.
Yet there is a salve for every sore, a bung for every bunghole. Upon theSunday morning, when the tide was coming in, and a golden haze hungupon the peaceful sea, and the seven bells of the old grey church werespeaking of the service cheerfully, suddenly a deep boom moved the bosomof distance, and palpitated all along the shore. Six or seven haleold gaffers (not too stiff to walk, with the help of a staff, a littlefurther than the rest) were coming to hear parson by the path below thewarren, where a smack of salt would season them for doctrine. They knewfrom long experience, the grandmother of science, that the mist of thesea, coming on at breakfast-time, in the month of August (with the windwhere it was and the tides as they were), would be sure to hold fastuntil dinner-time. Else, good as they were, and preparing punctuallyonce a week for a better world, the hind buttons of their Sunday coatswould have been towards the church, and the front ones to the headland.For the bodies of their sons were dearer to them, substantially dearer,than their own old souls.
They were all beginning to be deaf, or rather going on with it veryagreeably, losing thereby a great deal of disturbance, and gaining greatroom for reflection. And now when the sound of a gun from the sea hungshaking in the web of vapour, each of these wise men gazed steadfastlyat the rest, to see his own conclusion reflected, or concluded. A gunit was indeed--a big well-shotted gun, and no deafness could throw anydoubt on it. There might not be anything to see, but still there wouldbe plenty to hear at the headland--a sound more arousing than theparson's voice, a roar beyond that of all the gallery. "'Tis a battle!"said one, and his neighbour cried, "A rare one!" They turned to theparish church the quarters of farewell, and those of salutation to thebattle out at sea.
It was all over the village, in the time it takes to put a hat on, thatthe British and the French fleets were hammer and tongs at it, withinthe distance you may throw an apple off Springhaven headland.
Even the young women knew that this was quite impossible, because therewas no water there for a collier-brig to anchor; nevertheless, in thehurry and scare, the thoughts of that new battery and Lord Nelson, andabove all in the fog, they believed it. So that there was scarcely anyroom to stand, at the Watch-point, inside the Shag-rock; while in churchthere was no one who could help being there, by force of holy office, orexample.
These latter were not in a devout frame of mind, and (but for the lookof it) would have done more good by joining the other congregation.For the sound of cannon-shot came into their ears, like balls ofunadulterated pepper, and every report made them look at one another,and whisper--"Ah! there goes some poor fellow's head." For the sacredbuilding was constructed so that the sounds outside of it had more powerthan the good things offered in the inside.
However, as many, or as few, as did their duty, by joining the goodcompany of the minister, found themselves all the better for it, andmore fresh for a start than the runagates. Inasmuch as these latter hadnearly got enough of listening without seeing anything, while the steadychurch-goers had refreshed the entire system by looking about withoutlistening. And to show the truant people where their duty should havebound them, the haze had been thickening all over the sea, while the sunkept the time on the old church dial. This was spoken of for many years,throughout the village, as a Scriptural token of the proper thing to do.
"Well, and what have 'e seen?" asked the senior church-warden--notCheeseman, who was only the junior, and had neither been at churchnor on the headland--but Farmer Graves, the tenant of the Glebe and ofUp-farm, the Admiral's best holding; "what have 'e seen, good peopleall, to leave parson to prache to hisself a'most a sarmon as he'shathn't prached for five year, to my knowledge? Have 'e seen fat bullsof Basan?"
"Naw; but us have heer'd un roar," replied one who was sure to saysomething. "Wust of it is, there be no making out what language un doroar in."
"One Englishman, I tell 'e, and two Frenchmen," said an ancient tar whohad served under Keppel; "by the ring of the guns I could swear to thatmuch. And they loads them so different, that they do."
Before the others had well finished laughing at him, it became his turnto laugh at them. The wind was in the east, and the weather set fair,and but for the sea-mist the power of the sun would have been enough todazzle all beholders. Already this vapour was beginning to clear off,coiling up in fleecy wisps above the glistening water, but clingingstill to any bluff or cliff it could lay hold on.
"Halloa, Jem! Where be going of now?" shouted one or two voices from theOar-stone point, the furthest outlook of the Havenhead hill.
"To see them Frenchy hoppers get a jolly hiding," Jem Prater replied,without easing his sculls. He was John Prater's nephew, of the "DarlingArms," and had stopped behind the fishing to see his uncle's monthlybeer in. "You can't see up there, I reckon, the same as I do here.One English ship have got a job to tackle two Crappos. But, by George!she'll do it, mates. Good bye, and the Lord defend you!"
He had nobody but his little brother Sam, who was holding the tiller,to help him, and his uncle's boat (which he had taken without leave)was neither stout nor handy. But the stir of the battle had fetched himforth, and he meant to see the whole of it without taking harm. EveryEnglishman had a full right to do this, in a case of such Frenchaudacity, and the English sea and air began to give him fair occasion.For now the sun had swept the mist with a besom of gold wire, wideningevery sweep, and throwing brilliant prospect down it. The gentle heaveof the sea flashed forth with the white birds hovering over it, and thecurdles of fugitive vapour glowed like pillars of fire as they floatedoff. Then out of the drift appeared three ships, partly shrouded intheir own fog.
The wind was too light for manoeuvring much, and the combatants swung totheir broadsides, having taken the breath of the air away by the fury oftheir fire. All three were standing to the north-north-west, under easysail, and on the starboard tack, but scarcely holding steerage-way,and taking little heed of it. Close quarters, closer and closer still,muzzle to muzzle, and beard to beard, clinched teeth, and hard pounding,were the order of the day, with the crash of shattered timber and thecries of dying men. And still the ships came onward, forgetting wherethey were, heaving too much iron to have thought of heaving lead, readyto be shipwrecks, if they could but wreck the enemy.
Between the bulky curls of smoke could be seen the scars of furiousbattle, splintered masts and shivered yards, tattered sails and yawningbulwarks, and great gaps even of the solid side; and above the ruck ofsmoke appeared the tricolor flag upon the right hand and
the left, andthe Union-jack in the middle.
"She've a'got more than she can do, I reckon," said an old man famous inthe lobster line; "other a one of they is as big as she be, and two toone seemeth onfair odds. Wish her well out of it--that's all as can bedone."
"Kelks, you're a fool," replied the ancient navyman, steadying hisspy-glass upon a ledge of rock. "In my time we made very little of that;and the breed may be slacked off a little, but not quite so bad as thatwould be. Ah! you should a' heard what old Keppel--on the twenty-seventhday of July it was, in the year of our Lord 1778. Talk about Nelson! tomy mind old Keppel could have boxed his compass backward. Not but whatthese men know how to fight quite as well as need be nowadays. Why, if Iwas aboard of that there frigate, I couldn't do much more than she havedone. She'll have one of them, you see if she don't, though she look tohave the worst of it, till you comes to understand. The Leader her nameis, of thirty-eight guns, and she'll lead one of they into Portsmouth,to refit."
It was hard to understand the matter, in its present aspect, at all asthe ancient sailor did; for the fire of the Leda ceased suddenly, andshe fell behind the others, as if hampered with her canvas. A thrill ofpain ran through all the gazing Britons.
"How now, old Navy-Mike?" cried the lobster man. "Strike is the word,and no mistake. And small blame to her either. She hathn't got a soundthread to draw, I do believe. Who is the fool now, Mike? Though vexed Ibe to ask it."
"Wait a bit, old lobster-pot. Ah, there now, she breezes! Whistle fora wind, lads, whistle, whistle. Sure as I'm a sinner, yes! She's layingher course to board the Frenchman on the weather quarter. With a slantof wind she'll do it, too, if it only holds two minutes. Whistle on yournails, my boys, for the glory of old England."
In reply to their shrill appeal--for even the women tried to whistle--orperhaps in compulsory sequence of the sun, the wind freshened brisklyfrom the sunny side of east. The tattered sails of the brave shipfilled, with the light falling through them upon one another, the headswung round at the command of helm, the pennons flew gaily and theensign flapped, and she bore down smoothly on the outer and thereforeunwounded side of the enemy.
"That's what I call judgmatical," old Mike shouted, with a voice thatrivalled cannon; "whoever thought of that deserves three epulets, oneon each shoulder and one upon his head. Doubt if old Keppel would havethought of that, now. You see, mates, the other Crappo can't fire at herwithout first hitting of her own consort. And better than that--ever somuch better--the tilt of the charge will throw her over on her wounds.Master Muncher hath two great holes 'twixt wind and water on hislarboard side, and won't they suck the briny, with the weight of ourbows upon the starboard beam? 'Twill take fifty hands to stop leaks,instead of stopping boarders."
The smoke was drifting off, and the sun shone bravely. The battle hadbeen gliding toward the feet of the spectators; and now from the heightof the cliff they could descry the decks, the guns, the coils of rope,the turmoil, and dark rush of men to their fate. Small fights, man toman, demanded still the power of a telescope, and distance made thetrenchant arms of heroes, working right and left, appear like thenippers of an earwig. The only thing certain was that men were beingkilled, and glory was being manufactured largely.
"She've a doed it, she've a doed it rarely. There's not a d----d froggyleft to go to heaven; or if there be so he's a' battened down below,"old Mike shouted, flourishing his spy-glass, which rattled in its jointsas much as he did; "down comes the blood, froth, and blue blazes,as they call the Republican emrods, and up goes the Union-jack, myhearties. Three cheers! three cheers! Again! again! again!"
From the sea far below, and far away, came also the volume of a nobleEnglish shout, as the flag began to flutter in the quickening breeze,and the sea arose and danced with sunshine. No one, who had got all hisblood left in him, could think of anything but glory.
"My certy, they had better mind their soundings, though!" said the oldnavy-man, with a stitch in his side and a lump in his throat, from loudutterance; "five fathoms is every inch of it where they be now, andthe tide making strong, and precious little wind to claw off with. JemPrater! Jem Prater! Oar up, and give signal. Ah, he's too far off todo any good. In five minutes more they'll be on the White Pig, where noship ever got off again. Oh, thank the Lord, mates, thank the Lord, forhis mercy endureth forever! The other froggy is stuck hard and fast, andour lads will just fetch out in time."
Old Navy-Mike had made no mistake. The consort of the captured frigate,a corvette of twenty-four guns, had boldly stood on with the intentionof rounding to the wind, crossing the bows of the other twain, andretrieving the fortunes of the day perhaps, by a broadside into theshattered upper works of the terribly hampered British ship. The ideawas clever and spirited, and had a very fair chance of success; butthe land below the sea forefended it. Full of fine ardour and the noblethirst for fame, speeding on for the palm of high enterprise and theglory of the native land, alas, they stuck fast in a soft bit of Englishsand! It was in their power now to swear by all they disbelieved in,and in everything visible and too tangible; but their power was limitedstrictly to that; and the faster they swore, the faster they were boundto stick.
Springhaven dined well, with its enemy so placed, and a message fromthe Leda by Jem Prater, that the fishing fleet was rescued, and wouldbe home to early supper, and so much to be talked about all dinner-time,that for once in his life nearly everybody found it more expedient toeat with his fork than his knife. Then all who could be spared fromwashing up, and getting ready for further cookery, went duly to churchin the afternoon, to hear the good rector return humble thanks for aGracious Mercy to the British arms, and to see a young man, who hadlanded with despatches, put a face full of gunpowder in at window, tolearn whether Admiral Darling was there.