THE SAILOR HERO; OR, THE FRIGATE AND THE LUGGER

THE SAILOR HERO, OR, THE FRIGATE AND THE LUGGER. BY CAPTAIN F. C. ARMSTRONG, AUTHOR OF “THE CRUISE OF THE DARING,” “THE TWO MIDSHIPMEN,” “THE MEDORA,” “THE YOUNG COMMANDER,” ETC.

LONDON: WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER, WARWICK HOUSE PATERNOSTER ROW.

LONDON: B. C. BARRETT, ROUPELL STREET, BLACKFRIARS.

[Pg 5]

THE SAILOR HERO; OR, THE FRIGATE AND THE LUGGER.

CHAPTER I.

The war with France had just commenced. Vice-Admiral Lord Hood hoisted his flag on board the Victory, of one hundred guns; and, with the English fleet under his command, sailed from Spithead.

Amongst the many midshipmen on board the Victory, were two youths, who will occupy prominent places in our story;—one, William Thornton, our intended hero, was at this period between sixteen and seventeen years of age, and was known on board the Victory as the Admiral’s protégé. He was a high-spirited and generous youth, and had, thus early in life, distinguished himself on several occasions, and was a general favourite; but all that was known of his parentage was, that his supposed father had been formerly Lord Hood’s favourite coxswain, and that the Admiral had taken him on board the Victory as one of his midshipmen. Henry Howard Etherton, the other, the younger son of a wealthy baronet, was nearly two years older than William Thornton, but unlike him in every respect, except, perhaps, in personal appearance. He was well-looking, tall, and of gentlemanly manners; he had served two years in another ship, had been four years the schoolfellow of William Thornton; and when he left the school, which he did before William, it was with a feeling of bitter

hatred against his schoolfellow, and for no better reason than that he excelled him in mental acquirements, and bodily exercises.

The meeting of the two youths on board the Victory was a surprise to both.

William Thornton was, as we have said, a general favourite, but especially with a fine young fellow, named Saunders, a top-man, whose life he had saved under very trying circumstances.

[Pg 6]

Howard Etherton took especial care to circulate all he knew of young Thornton’s antecedents. He stated that he passed at school as the son of Lord Hood’s coxswain; but it was doubtful whose son he was; some one had paid his schooling and other expenses munificently, but that it was too bad to have as a comrade in the midshipmen’s berth one of so doubtful, or at all events, of so low an origin.

Only some of Howard’s cronies and toadies listened to these spiteful stories; the officers, perhaps, heard, but gave no heed to them, for the young midshipman was a noble-looking boy, singularly powerful and tall for his age.

One day nearly all the midshipmen happened to be assembled together in their berth, when one of their number, a stout youth of eighteen, who was noted for his envious disposition, took up a large book, like an account book, saying—

“Gentlemen, I wish to ask your attention for a moment.”

Then, turning to William Thornton, he continued, with a serious countenance:—

“In this book, Master Thornton, we enter the names of our fathers and mothers, as well as of our sisters, provided we have any. Now, ours are all down; pray oblige me with your father’s name, and also your mother’s maiden name, if you remember such a personage.”

William Thornton fixed his dark, expressive eyes upon the speaker with a most unmitigated expression of contempt; but with perfect self-control, said,—

“You cannot suppose, Master Joshua Dykes, that I am quite so green as to listen seriously to your nonsense. You have been put up to this intended insult by Howard Etherton, who knows remarkably well that I have the misfortune not to know who my parents were; therefore you are weak and silly enough to get this trash up for the express purpose of provoking me; but——”

“Oh, by St. Peter’s toe! and that’s a brass one,” exclaimed a loud, manly voice, the speaker at the moment entering the midshipmen’s berth, “give us your hand, William; I’ll be your father and mother, and, faith, your grand-mother too, if you’re in want of one; you’re a broth of a boy, and have shown us what pluck and heart can do. Now, if any of these sky-larking lubbers bother you again with their balderdash, by the powers of Moll Kelly, I’ll tache them better manners. Hark ye, my lads! my name, as you all know, is Patrick O’Loughlin, and, as far as I know, I never had a father or mother; but look at this (and clenching his hand, he tucked up his sleeve, and stretched out an arm capable of felling an ox); there, this has been my father and mother, and, faith, a whole host of relations beside; it has made me third[Pg 7] lieutenant of the Victory; and that’s what I call being a father and mother. Now if any of you want to be better acquainted with William Thornton’s father and mother, he can show you

just such another fist and arm, and is quite willing to give you a taste of it, to establish his parentage; and now, William, come with me; I want to have half-an-hour’s chat with you.”

Most of the mids burst into a hearty laugh, taking the Lieutenant’s words good-humouredly, for he was greatly loved by all the officers and crew of the ship. Howard Etherton and two others, his special cronies, sneered, though they evidently did not admire Lieutenant O’Loughlin’s father and mother.

William Thornton and Lieutenant O’Loughlin sat down in the latter’s berth, with a bottle of light wine and some biscuits before them.

“Now tell me, William,” said the kind-hearted Lieutenant, “all you know about yourself. You promised to tell me. We have an idle hour now—to-morrow may see us in action.”

“Most willingly, dear friend,” replied our hero. “I have no desire to conceal any part of my history, and least of all from you; so now listen to a very short yarn, and then you will know as much as I do myself.

“I was reared in a cottage at Deal, by one of the kindest and most generous of men, and whom I honour and love as a fond father. He was once coxswain to Lord Hood, but, having lost a leg and an arm in the service, now lives upon a pension. Shortly after his retirement, he was left a comfortable annuity, and persuaded a sister of his—a widow in poor circumstances—to live with him, purchased a pretty cottage on the sea-coast near Walmer, where I grew up till I was eight years old.

“I was then sent to one of the best seminaries in the county, where I first met Howard Etherton. I remained at school till I was fourteen years old, when I returned to my supposed father’s cottage. He told me I was going to serve His Majesty as a midshipman. I was delighted. One evening the old tar, who was never so happy as when relating sea-yarns, said, ‘Bill, my lad, I’ll spin you a yarn; mix my grog—there, you’re bountiful with the water—sit quiet and listen, for it consarns you.

“‘I was aboard the Quebec, 36-gun frigate,’ began the old tar, ‘commanded by as brave a fellow as ever trod a deck. We were cruising off Ushant, with the Rambler cutter in company. It was the month of October, in the year 177—, we fell in with a large frigate to the sou-west of Ushant, and she had a smart cutter cruising in company. Well, we were soon hammering away at it, and kept it up for three mortal hours. Our decks were slippery with blood, our masts all gone, and our sails, lying over the guns, caught fire, and soon[Pg 8] after we blew up, with our colours flying, and—the Lord be merciful to us!—our captain, and most of our crew were hurled into the air.

“‘I can’t say how I got out of her; all I remember is that I found myself struggling in the water amid a mass of rigging and spars. I was finally picked up and carried on board the French frigate Surveillante, where I found several of my shipmates. We were treated with the greatest kindness, by order of the dying commander, who also desired that we should be put aboard the first neutral vessel they came across, for we had fought gallantly and nobly, and it was not our fault that the ship blew up.

“‘The French frigate had suffered awfully; her masts, sails, and rigging were cut to pieces, and her crew half killed and wounded. We were permitted to walk about the deck. I could speak a little of their lingo, and some of them spoke ours.

“‘One morning I saw a little boy, not much more than two years old, toddling about the ship’s deck, and, to my surprise, I heard him speak some words in English to one of the men.

“‘“You may parley-vous to that little chap in your own language,” said one of the sailors, seeing me caress the child—for I was always soft-hearted, and the child took to me at once. “How did he come here?” asked I.

“‘“Why,’ said the Frenchman, “about ten days before we fought your frigate, in a heavy gale we ran down a ship in the night; we put out our boats, though it did blow a treble-reefed-topsail breeze, but all we could see was the long boat, and all that we found inside of it was that child, wrapped up in a heap of blankets. The poor little thing was half dead with wet and cold.” That’s all I could learn, but the man said, and I could see it, “that the child was sure to be a gentleman’s son, his little garments were so costly and handsome.”

“Well, after a time jury-masts were rigged and we made way; but a gale drove the frigate ashore on Gros Point, to the lee of Isle Dieu. A scene of terrible confusion ensued, in the midst of which, I, with eight comrades, got off in one of the boats. I took the child with me, for I loved it, and it was English. The next day we were picked up by the ——, 74, commanded by Rear-Admiral Hood, who was proceeding to join the fleet under Admiral Rodney. We were all glad, of course, to join that ship, and be under so gallant and brave a seaman.

“‘The child became the pet of the ship, he throve like a young bantam, and crowed like one whenever he heard a gun fired.

“‘The admiral called me to the quarter-deck, and desired me to say how I came by the child, and I did so. Before I left[Pg 9] the ship I became his coxswain, and, to finish my yarn,’ said Bill Thornton, finishing his grog, ‘I now tell you you are the child so strangely found on board the Surveillante.’

“You may imagine my emotion, O’Loughlin, when I heard this, and how I blessed and caressed the dear old man for the love he had bestowed upon me.

“Now this is all I have to tell you, dear friend; I went to sea shortly after in the —— frigate as midshipman, and in the course of two years was appointed to this ship through the interest Bill Thornton had with his old commander. The admiral knows I am the same child that used to toddle about the quarter-deck of the —— 74, when he commanded her, and thus probably feels an interest for me from the peculiarity of my introduction on board his ship, and his esteem for his old and favourite coxswain.”

“Here’s your health, my lad,” said the Lieutenant, tossing down a full glass, “and here’s my hand; I’ll be a second father to you. I’m five-and-twenty, and upon my conscience it appears to me I have lived fifty years, or I was in some other person’s skin before I got sewed up in this, I’ve been so knocked about in this world. We are in a glorious service, and if we have luck, why, by St. Patrick, we may advance to be admirals by the time we get to seventy!”

CHAPTER II.

In the month of August the British fleet, under Lord Hood, arrived before the port of Toulon. Two commissioners from the Royalist party came on board the Victory, to treat for the surrender of the port and shipping to the British. William Thornton’s favorite companion amongst the mids was a youth named Charles Pole, a fine spirited lad of his own age. They were leaning over the bulwarks, gazing at the boats rowing aboard with the two commissioners, and then a look was cast at the bold high land of Cape Cesi, and the entrance to the noble gulf of Toulon.

“I wish they would commence hammering away at those grim looking forts on the heights,” said Charles Pole to his comrade, “I’m tired of doing nothing.”

“Il dolce far niente,” said William Thornton, “the Italian’s supreme delight, that and serenading his lady love by the light of a bright moon.”

“Oh! wait a bit, my beauties,” said O’Loughlin, joining them, “you won’t talk of the dolce far niente in a day or two, for it’s all up with negotiations. We shall have those grim[Pg 10] forts talking to us shortly, and faith, I’m longing myself to have a bout with those republican bloodhounds.”

O’Loughlin was right in his conjectures. Lord Hood, in great perplexity as to the intentions of the royalist party, resolved upon the hazardous experiment of sending an officer into the town to ascertain how matters stood, being aware that Rear-Admiral St. Julian with the bulk of the French fleet sided with the Republicans.

This perilous expedition was confided to the judgment and courage of Lieutenant Edward Cooke, who was to select a midshipman to accompany him.

“Take Thornton, Cooke,” said O’Loughlin, “that’s the lad for the work; as courageous as a lion and as cool as a lettuce. Do you remember how he behaved in the affair off Cadiz? If you come back safe, which I predict you will, it will be a feather in his cap.”

“The very one I would have selected,” said Lieutenant Cooke; “but he’s too young to run the gauntlet through the French fleet; it’s almost a pity.”

To the great delight of Thornton he was selected.

“I think,” said Howard Etherton, with a malicious grin, and giving his chum Dykes a poke in the ribs, “I think we shall be one less in our mess by this time to-morrow. I suppose he will leave his kit to you, Pole?”

“I hope he will live to break your head yet,” said Charles Pole, with a look of contempt as he walked on.

“Thank you, Master Pole; we shall not forget that,” bawled out Howard Etherton.

A remarkably fast gig was selected to take the Lieutenant and his young companion, and eight picked men, Saunders, the top-man, being one of them. It was ten o’clock at night when the gig left the side of the ship. It was blowing very fresh, and, considering the time of year, extremely dark. Our hero was steering.

“Now, William,” said the Lieutenant, “keep her away for the high land, yonder; and when we come abreast of the ships, steer boldly right into the midst of them.”

After entering the harbour, our hero could see the light on the dockyard pier plain enough; and he knew from drafts and maps every inch of the outward and inner harbour, whilst the Committee-General were aware of the intended attempt to communicate with them.

The boat flew through the water, under the strokes of eight vigorous oarsmen, and passed close under the stern of a huge hundred-and-twenty-gun ship, which they knew was the Commerce de Marseilles. There were eighteen or more ships moored in two lines, with a considerable space between, through[Pg 11] which the light boat was impelled rapidly, and without even a challenge from any of the ships. It was evidently taken for one of their own boats. William Thornton steered steadily for the jetty, which was known to be in the hands of the royalist party. In a few minutes they were alongside the pier, which was crowded with persons of all grades and denominations, the soldiers on duty finding it almost impossible to keep them back. A naval officer came to the side of the boat, and addressed Lieutenant Cooke, saying—

“You have done a daring feat, monsieur; and, fortunately, you have succeeded. I am desired to let you know that until to-morrow morning you cannot land. It would be dangerous.”

“Very good,” said Lieutenant Cooke. “We can pass the rest of the night in our boat-cloaks.”

“Wine and refreshments,” continued the officer, “shall be sent to you for yourself and men; and I pray you, monsieur, not to feel aggrieved at this delay; it is unavoidable.”

Ere half-an-hour had elapsed a large hamper was handed on board the boat, and then they were told to pull off from the jetty, and make fast to one of the buoys, which they did.

“Come my lads,” said Lieutenant Cooke, “rip up the hamper, and let us feel the contents if we can’t see them; we shall not require light to appease our hunger.”

William Thornton was delighted with the excitement of the affair. They could hear the various sounds from the interior of the town; loud shouts and cries, and all the noises attending the assembly of a number of people in the street; but all was perfectly quiet within the dockyard and basin. Not a boat passed in or out, and the crowd, a while back standing on the jetty, were all put outside the gates, and only the sentries remained, walking backwards and forwards on their watch.

The hamper contained a dozen of wine, a couple of fowls, and a ham, with abundance of bread.

“Well, by Jove, William, this is not bad; I suppose you expected a mess of frogs, or some other outlandish dish, eh?”

“I prefer the half of a fowl, I confess,” returned our hero, pulling out his knife to commence operations; “though frogs may not be such a bad dish as we may imagine.”

“Oh, confound their frogs!” said the Lieutenant, drawing a cork out of one of the bottles. “By Jupiter! there’s neither cup nor glass of any kind.”

“Here’s a horn, your honour,” said one of the men; “I brought it, thinking it might serve a turn somehow if we got anything better than water.”

“You’re a thoughtful man, Saunders,” said the Lieutenant; “hand it here,” and giving it a rinse first with water and then with wine, he filled himself a bumper and tossed it off. “Good[Pg 12] Bordeaux, by Jove! and no mistake. Come, these fellows know what’s good.”

“There’s a row in the town, Mr. Cooke,” said the midshipman; “you can hear them rioting very distinctly.”

“Those cursed, bloodthirsty Republicans trying to cut the throats of the Royalists, I suppose,” returned the Lieutenant; “and that’s the reason they would not let us land during the tumult. We shall have to remain here till to-morrow night, as we cannot attempt to pass the ships in the broad daylight.”

Telling the men to help themselves to the remains of the fowl and ham, and letting them have a couple of bottles of wine between them, a regular watch having been set, the Lieutenant and midshipman wrapped themselves up in their boat-cloaks, and reclined on the thwarts, conversing together till they dropped off into a short slumber. William Thornton slept an hour or two, and then, waking, sat up; the Lieutenant was fast asleep, and so were the men, excepting the two that kept watch. The night was still extremely dark, but as our hero sat gazing over the dark water, looking at the huge dismasted hulls of some unfinished war vessels, he thought he heard at a little distance a splashing in the water, like a person swimming.

“Do you see anything in the water, right ahead, Saunders?” asked the midshipman to one of the watch, stooping down low as he spoke, and looking along the surface of the water.

“I thought as how I heard a noise, sir,” said the man; “and I think I see a dark object moving towards us.”

“So do I now,” returned William Thornton; “it is a man swimming. Hush! do not make a noise, one man cannot hurt us.”

Bill Saunders put down the boat-stretcher he had taken up with the laudable intention of hitting the swimmer over the head, and the next moment a man swam up alongside, stripped all to his drawers, holding up his hand and requesting them to make no noise. He seized the gunnel of the boat, and Saunders and the other men being roused helped him in. The heeling over of the boat rolled Lieutenant Cooke off the thwart, who immediately sprang up, saying—

“Hollo, William! what’s in the wind now?”