 | CHAPTER X. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
A path upon the waste, can find a way
Where all is trackless, and compel the winds,
Those freest agents of Almighty power,
To lend their untamed wings, and bear him on
To distant climos.”
Ware.
The situation of Ghita Caraccioli, on board the lugger,
was of the most unpleasant nature, during the fierce struggle
we have related. Fortunately, for her, this struggle was
very short, Raoul having kept her in profound ignorance of
the approach of any danger, until the instant le Feu-Follet
commenced her fire. It is true, she had heard the guns
was an affair in which the privateer had no participation;
and the reports sounding distant, to one in the cabin, she
had been easily deceived. While the actual conflict was
going on, she was on her knees, at the side of her uncle;
and the moment it ceased, she appeared on deck, and interposed
to save the fugitives, in the manner related.
Now, however, the scene was entirely changed. The
lugger had escaped all damage, worthy of notice; her decks
had not been stained with blood; and her success had been
as complete as could be desired. In addition to these advantages,
the result removed all apprehension from the only
source of danger that Raoul thought could exist, as between
his own vessel and the frigate; or a boat-attack in a calm;
for men who had just been so roughly handled in an enterprise
so well concealed, would not be likely to renew the
attempt while they still smarted under the influence of the
late repulse. Affairs of this sort exact all the discipline and
resolution that a well-regulated service can afford; and are
not to be thought of under the temporary demoralization of
defeat. All in the lugger, therefore, considered this collision
with the Proserpine at an end, for the moment at least.
Ghita had dined, for the day had now turned some time,
and the girl had come on deck to escape the confinement of
a very small cabin, leaving her uncle to enjoy his customary
siesta. She was seated under the awning of the quarter-deck,
using her needle, as was her wont, at that hour, on
the heights of Argentaro. Raoul had placed himself on a
gun-slide, near her, and Ithuel was busy within a few feet
of them, dissecting a spy-glass, with a view to clean its
lenses.
“I suppose, the most excellent Andrea Barrofaldi will
sing a Te Deum for his escape from our fangs,” suddenly
exclaimed Raoul, laughing. “Pardie! he is a great historian,
and every way fit to write an account of this great
victory, which Monsieur l'Anglais, là bas, is about to send
to his government!”
“And you, Raoul, have you no occasion for a Te Deum,
after your escape?” demanded Ghita, gently, and yet with
emphasis. “Is there no God for you to thank, as well as
for the vice-governatore?”
“Peste!—our French deity is little thought of, just now,
Ghita. Republics, as you know, have no great faith in
religion—is it not so, mon brave Américan? Tell us, Etooell;
have you any religion in America?”
As Ithuel had often heard Raoul's opinions on this subject,
and knew the prevailing state of France, in this particular,
he neither felt nor expressed any surprise at the question.
Still, the idea ran counter to all his own notions and prejudices,
he having been early taught to respect religion, even
when he was most serving the devil. In a word, Ithuel
was one of those descendants of Puritanism, who, “Godward,”
as it is termed, was quite unexceptionable, so far
as his theory extended; but who, “manward” was, “as the
Scribes and Pharisees.” Nevertheless, as he expressed it
himself, “he always stood up for religion;” a fact that his
English companions had commented on in jokes; maintaining
that he even “stood up” when the rest of the ship's company
were on their knees.
“I'm a little afraid, Monsieur Rule,” he answered, “that
in France you have entered the rope of republicanism at the
wrong eend. In Ameriky, we even put religion before dollars;
and if that isn't convincing, I'll give it up. Now, I
do wish you could see a Sunday once in the Granite State,
Signorina Ghita, that you might get some notion what our
western religion ra'ally is.”
“All real religion—all real devotion to God, is, or ought
to be, the same, Signor Ithuello, whether in the east or in
the west. A Christian, is a Christian; let him live and die
where he may.”
“That's not exactly platform, I fancy. Why, Lord bless
ye, young lady—your religion, now, is no more like mine,
than my religion is like that of the Archbishop of Canter-bury's,
or Monsieur Rule's, here!”
“La mienne!” exclaimed Raoul — “I pretend to none,
mon brave; there can be no likeness to nothing.”
Ghita's glance was kind, rather than reproachful; but it
was profoundly sorrowful.
“In what can our religion differ,” she asked, “if we are
both Christians? Americans, or Italians, it is all the same.”
“That comes of knowing nothing about Ameriky,” said
Ithuel, filled with the conceit of his own opinion of himself,
first place, you have a Pope, and cardinals, and bishops, and
all such things, in your religion; while we have none.”
“Certainly, there is the Holy Father, and there are cardinals;
but they are not my religion,” answered Ghita, looking
surprised. “Bishops, it is true, are appointed of God,
and form part of his church; and the bishop of Rome is the
head of the church on earth—but nothing more.”
“Nothing more!—Don't you worship images, and take off
and put on garments at your prayers, and kneel down in a
make-believe, profane way; and don't you turn everything
into vain ceremonies?”
Had Ithuel been engaged, body and soul, in maintaining
one of the propositions of the Oxford Tracts' controversy, he
could not have uttered these words with greater zeal, or with
a more self-righteous emotion. His mind was stored with
the most vulgar accusations of an exceedingly vulgar set of
sectarian distinctions; and he fancied it a high proof of
Protestant perfection, to hold all the discarded usages in
abhorrence. On the other hand, Ghita listened with surprise;
for, to her, the estimation in which the rites of the
Romish church were held by the great bulk of Protestants,
was a profound secret. The idea of worshipping an image,
never crossed her innocent mind; and although she often
knelt before her own little ivory crucifix, she had never supposed
any could be so ignorant as to confound the mere
material representation of the sacrifice it was meant to pourtary,
with the divine expiation itself.
“It is decent to use proper vestments, at the altar,” she
replied; “and its servants ought not to be clad like other
men. We know it is the heart, the soul, that must be
touched, to find favour with God; but this does not make
the outward semblance of respect that we show even to each
other, the less necessary. As to worshipping images—that
would be idolatry; and as bad as the poor heathens, themselves.”
Ithuel looked mystified; for he never doubted, in the least,
that the worshipping of images was a material part of Catholic
devotion; and, as for the pope and the cardinals, he
deemed them all as indispensable to the creed of this church;
as he fancied it important, in his own, that the priests should
should have square-topped windows. Absurd as
all this may seem, to-day, and wicked as it will probably
appear a century hence, it formed, and forms, no small part
of sectarian belief; and entered into the animosities and
jealousies of those who seem to think it necessary to quarrel
for the love of God. Could we but look back at our own
changes of opinion, it would render us less confident of the
justice of our sentiments; and, most of all, one would think
that the American, who has lived long enough to witness
the summersets that have been thrown in the practices and
creeds of most of the more modern sects of his own country,
within the last quarter of a century, would come to have
something like a suitable respect for the more stable and
venerable divisions of the Christian world.
“Proper vestments!” repeated Ithuel, with contempt;
“what vestments are wanting, in the eyes of the Supreme
Being? No; if I must have religion — and I know it's
necessary and whullsum', let it be a pure, naked religion,
that will stand to reason. Is not that your way of thinking,
Monsieur Rule?”
“Ma foi, oui. Reason before all things, Ghita; and,
most of all, reason in religion.”
“Ah! Raoul, this it is which misleads and betrays you,”
returned the girl, earnestly. “Faith, and a meek dependence,
is what makes a proper state of feeling; and yet you demand
a reason of Him who created the universe, and breathed into
you the breath of life!”
“Are we not reasoning creatures, Ghita,” returned Raoul,
gently, and yet with a sincerity and truth, for the circumstances,
that rendered even his scepticism piquant and respectable;
“and is it unreasonable to expect us to act up to
our natures? Can I worship a God I do not understand?”
“Couldst thou worship one thou didst? He would cease
to be a deity, and would become one of ourselves, were his
nature and attributes brought down to the level of our comprehensions.
Did one of thy followers come on this quarter-deck,
and insist on hearing all thine own motives for the
orders given in this little felucca, how readily wouldst thou
drive him back, as mutinous and insolent; and yet thou
mysteries!”
Raoul was mute, while Ithuel stared. It was so seldom
that Ghita lost her exceeding gentleness of manner, that the
flush of her cheek, the severe earnestness of her eyes, the
impassioned modulations of her voice, and the emphasis with
which she spoke on this occasion, produced a sort of awe,
that prevented the discourse from proceeding further. The
girl, herself, was so much excited, that, after sitting for a
minute with her hands before her face, the tears were seen
forcing their way through her fingers. She then arose, and
darted into the cabin. Raoul was too observant of the rules
of propriety to think of following; but he sat moody and
lost in thought, until Ithuel drew his attention to himself.
“Gals will be gals,” said that refined and philosophical
observer of the human family, “and nothing touches their
natur's sooner than a little religious excitement. I dare
say, if it wasn't for images, and cardinals, and bishops, and
such creatur's, the Italians (Ithuel always pronounced this
word Eyetalians) would make a very good sort of Christians.”
But Raoul was in no humour to converse; and as the
hour had now arrived when the zephyr was to be expected,
he rose, ordered the awning taken in, and prepared to make
himself master of the state of things around him. There
lay the frigate, taking her siesta, like all near; her three
topsails standing, but every other sail that was loose, hanging
in festoons, waiting for the breeze. Notwithstanding
her careless appearance, so closely had she been tended,
for the last few hours, however, and so sedulously had even
the smallest breath of air been improved, that Raoul started
with surprise, when he found how much nearer she was
than when he had last looked at her. The whole trick was
apparent to him, at a glance; and he was compelled to acknowledge
his own remissness, when he perceived that he
lay within the reach of the shot of this powerful foe; though
still so distant as to render her aim a little uncertain; more
especially should a sea get up. The felucca had burnt to
the water's edge; but, owing to the smoothness of the water,
her wreck still floated, and was slowly setting into the bay,
there being a slight current in that direction, where she now
hid from view, and the whole island of Elba had the appearance
of being asleep.
“What a siesta!” said Raoul, to Ithuel, as both stood on
the heel of the bowsprit, looking curiously at the scene:
“sea, land, mountains, bourgeois and mariners all dozing.
Bien; there is life, yonder at the west, and we must get
farther from votre Proserpine. Call the hands, Monsieur
Lieutenant. Let us get out our sweeps, and put the head
of le Feu-Follet the other way. Peste! the lugger is so sharp,
and has such a trick of going exactly where she looks, that
I am afraid she has been crawling up towards her enemy,
as the child creeps into the fire that burns its fingers.”
All hands were soon in motion on board le Feu-Follet,
the sweeps were on the point of being handled, when the
jigger fluttered, and the first puff of the expected western
breeze swept along the surface of the waters. To the seamen,
it was like inhaling oxygen gas. Every appearance
of drowsiness deserted the people of both vessels, and every
one was instantly busy in making sail. Raoul had a proof
into what dangerous proximity to the frigate he had got, by
the sound of the calls on board her; and the stillness of
the sea was yet so great, that the creaking of her fore-yard
was actually audible to him, as the English rounded in their
braces briskly, while laying their fore-top-sail aback.
At that moment a second respiration of the atmosphere
gave birth to the breeze. Raoul whistled for the wind, and
the lugger moved ahead, gliding towards the frigate. But,
in half a minute, she had gathered sufficient way, her helm
was put down, and she came round as easily and as gracefully
as the bird turns on his wing. Not so with the heavier
frigate. She had hauled in her starboard head-braces, and
had to get the foretopsail aback, and to pay well off with
her head to leeward, in order to swing her yards and fill
her sails, while le Feu-Follet was slipping through the water,
going seemingly into the wind's eye. By this single evolution,
the lugger gained more than a cable's-length on her
enemy, and five minutes more would have put her beyond
all immediate danger. But, Captain Cuffe knew this, as
well as his competitor, and had made his preparations accordingly.
Keeping his head-yards aback, he knocked his
he let fly every gun of his starboard batteries, the utmost
care having been taken to make the shot tell. Twenty-two
heavy round-shot coming in at once upon a little craft, like
le Feu-Follet, was a fearful visitation; and, the boldest held
their breath for a time, as the iron whirlwind whistled past
them. Fortunately, the lugger was not hulled; but a grave
amount of mischief was done aloft. The jigger-mast was
cut in two, and flew upward like a pipe-stem. A serious
wound was given to the mainmast below the hounds, and the
yard itself was shivered in the slings. No less than six
shot plunged through both luggs, leaving holes in the canvass
that made it resemble a beggar's shirt, and the jib-stay was
cut in two half-way between the mast-head and the end of
the bowsprit. No one was hurt; and, yet, for a moment,
every one looked as if destruction had suddenly lighted on
the lugger. Then it was that Raoul came out, in his true
colours. He knew he could not spare a stitch of canvass
just at that moment, but, that on the next ten minutes depended
every thing. Nothing was taken in, therefore, to
secure spars and sails, but all was left to stand, trusting to
the lightness of the breeze, which usually commenced very
moderately. Hands were immediately set to work, to get
up a new stay; a new main-yard and sail were got along,
and every thing was prepared for hoisting both, as soon as
it could be ascertained that the mast would bear them. Nearly
similar preparations were made forward, as the shortest way
of getting rid of the torn fore-sail; for these, it was the intention
to unbend and bend, the yard being sound.
Luckily, Captain Cuffe determined to lose no more time
with his guns, but swinging his head-yards, the frigate came
sweeping up to the wind, and in three minutes every thing
was trimmed for the utmost. All this time, le Feu-Follet
had not stood still. Her canvass fluttered, but it held on,
and even the spars kept their places, though so much injured.
In a word, the wind was not yet strong enough to
tear the one, or to carry away the other. It was an advantage,
too, that these casualties, particularly the loss of her
jigger, rendered le Feu-Follet less weatherly than she would
otherwise have been, since by keeping the frigate directly
in her wake, she was less exposed to the chase-guns, than
Raoul was soon persuaded, the Proserpine beginning to work
both her bow-guns, as soon as she came to the wind, though
neither exactly bore; the shot of one ranging a little to
windward, and the other about as much on the other side.
By these shot, too, the young Frenchman soon had the satisfaction
of seeing that, notwithstanding her injuries, the
lugger was drawing ahead;—a fact of which the English
became so sensible themselves, that they soon ceased firing.
So far, things went better than Raoul had reason, at first,
to hope, though he well knew that the crisis was yet to
come. The westerly wind often blew fresh at that period
of the day, and should it now increase he would require all
his canvass to get clear of a ship with the known qualities
of the vessel in chase. How much longer his mast or his
main-yard would stand he did not know, but as he was fast
gaining, he determined to make hay while the sun shone,
and get far enough ahead, if possible, before the breeze
grew fresh, to enable him to shift his sails and fish his spars,
without being again brought within the reach of visiters as
rude as those who had so lately come hurtling into his thin
hamper. The proper precautions were not neglected, in the
meantime. Men were sent aloft to do what they could,
under the circumstances, with the two spars; and the strain
was a little relieved by keeping the lugger as much away,
as might be done without enabling the frigate to set her
studding sails.
There is always something so exciting in a chase, that
seamen never fail to wish for more wind; forgetful that the
power which increases their own speed, may also increase
the speed of the other party, and that too in an undue proportion.
It would have been more favourable to le Feu-Follet
to have had less wind than even now blew, since her
relative rate of sailing was greater in light than in strong
breezes. Raoul knew, from Ithuel's statements, that the
Proserpine was an exceedingly fast ship, more especially
when it blew fresh; and yet it did not appear to him that
his lugger got along with sufficient speed, though his enemy
would be certain to follow at a rate of sailing in a just proportion
to his own, did there come more wind.
The wish of the young privateersman, however, was soon
the two vessels opened the Canal of Corsica, as the passage
between that island and Elba is called, the frigate was
obliged to take in her royals, and two or three of those light
and lofty staysails, which it was then the custom for ships
to carry. At first, Raoul had thought he might fetch into
Bastia, which lies due-west of the southern end of Elba;
but though the wind drew a little down through the canal, it
soon blew too fresh to allow any formation of the land materially
to alter its current. The zephyr, as the afternoon's
summer breeze of southern Italy, in particular, was termed
by the ancients, is seldom a due-west wind, there generally
being a little northing in it, as seamen say; and, as one
gets farther up the coast, this same wind ordinarily comes
round the head of Corsica, blowing from nearly west-northwest.
This would have enabled the lugger to lay her course
for a deep bay on which lies the town of Biguglia, could she
have been jammed up on a wind, as might usually have been
done; but, a few minutes of experiment convinced Raoul
that he must be more tender on his wounded spars, and keep
off for the mouth of the Golo. This was a river of some
size into which it was possible for a vessel of a light draught
to enter; and, as there stood a small battery near the anchorage,
he determined to seek shelter in that haven, in order to
repair his damages. His calculations were made accordingly,
and, taking the snow-clad peaks in the neighbourhood
of Corte as his land-marks, he ordered the lugger to be
steered in the proper direction.
On board the Proserpine, there was scarcely less interest felt
in the result, than on board le Feu-Follet. If the people of
the frigate had nothing to apprehend, they had something to
revenge; in addition to the anticipated credit of having captured
the boldest privateer that sailed out of France. For
a short time, as the ship came up with the west end of Elba,
it was a serious question whether she would be able to weather
it, the lugger having gone past, within a cable's-length
of the cliffs, on the very verge of the breakers, and much
closer in than the frigate would dare to follow. But the last
had taken the breeze farther off the land than the first, and
might possibly fetch past the promontory, on the tack she
was then steering. To have gone about, would have been
due north, while le Feu-Follet was gliding down to the southward
and westward, at the rate of seven knots. The distance
across the canal is only about thirty miles, and there
would not have been time to recover the lost ground.
This uncertainty made a most feverish moment on board
the Proserpine, as she came up fast towards the headland.
All depended on getting by without tacking. The appearances
were favourable for deep water, close in; but there is
always the danger of rocks to be dreaded, near mountainous
coasts. The promontory, too, was comparatively low; and
this was rather an indication that it ought not to be approached
too closely. Winchester was in his berth, just
beginning to feel the smart of his wound; but Griffin was at
the captain's elbow, both he and the third lieutenant, entering
keenly into all their commander's wishes and anxieties.
“There she goes, into the very breakers!” exclaimed
Cuffe, as they watched le Feu-Follet, in her attempt to pass
the promontory; “Monsieur Yvard must be determined to
cast away his craft, rather than be taken. It will be touch
and go with him.”
“I think not, Captain Cuffe,” answered Griffin; “the
coast is bold, hereabouts, and even the Proserpine would find
sufficient water, there, where the lugger now is. I hope we
shall not be obliged to tack, sir.”
“Ay, this is very well for an irresponsible—but, when it
got to a court, and punishment, I fear that all the last would
fall on my shoulders, should his Majesty's ship happen to lay
her bones along-shore, here. No, no, Griffin; we must go
a clear cable's-length to windward of that, or I go about,
though Raoul Yvard were never taken.”
“There, he fetches-up, by George!” cried Yelverton, the
youngest lieutenant; and, for a moment, it was, in truth,
believed in the frigate, that le Feu-Follet, as a breaker actually
curled directly under her lee, was aground. But this
notion lasted a moment only, the little lugger continuing her
course as swiftly as before; and, a minute or two later, keeping
a little away, to ease her spars, having been jammed up
as close as possible, previously, in order to weather the extreme
end of what was thought to be the dangerous point.
The frigate was fully two miles a-stern; and, instead of
the wind, as to be occasionally touching. This was the more
safe, inasmuch as the sea was perfectly smooth, and the
vessel made no lee-way. Still the frigate looked, as it is
termed, barely up to the point it was deemed indispensable
to weather; and as ships rarely “do” better than they “look,”
it became a question of serious doubt, on board the Proserpine,
as she came up with the headland, whether she could
clear it.
“I am afraid, Captain Cuffe, we shall never clear it with
a good-enough berth, sir,” observed the fidgeting Griffin; “it
seems, to me, the ship sets unaccountably to leeward, to-day!”
“She never behaved better, Griffin. I am really in hopes
there is a slight current off-shore, here; if anything, we
actually open the highlands of Corsica, by this promontory.
You see that the wreck of la Divina Providenza is sweeping
round the bay, and is coming out to windward, again.”
“That may serve us, indeed! All ready in the chains,
sir!—shall we make a cast of the lead?”
Cuffe assented, and the lead was hove. At this moment
the ship was going eight knots, and the man reported no
bottom, with fifteen fathoms of line out. This was well;
and two or three subsequent casts confirmed it. Orders
were now given to drag every bowline, swig-off on every
brace, and flatten-in all the sheets. Even the halyards
were touched, in order that the sails might stand like boards.
The trying moment was near; five minutes must decide
the matter.
“Let her shake a little Mr. Yelverton, and eat into the
wind,” said Cuffe, addressing the officer of the watch; “we
must do all we can here; for, when abreast of the breakers,
everything must be a rap-full, to keep the ship under quick
command. There—meet her with the helm, and give her a
good full.”
This experiment was repeated twice, and each time the
frigate gained her length to windward, though she necessarily
lost more than three times that distance in her velocity.
At length, the trial came, and a profound silence, one in
which nervousness and anxiety were blended with hope,
reigned in the vessel. The eyes of all turned from the sails
both to the wake of the ship.
At such moments the voice of the lead's-man prevails over
all other sounds. His warning cry is listened to with breathless
attention, when the songs of a siren would be unheard.
Cast after cast was made, as the ship drove on, and the
answer to Cuffe's questions, was uniformly, “no bottom, sir,
with fifteen fathoms out;” but, just at this instant, arose the
regular song from the weather main-chains, of “by the mark
seven!” This came so suddenly on the Captain's ear, that
he sprang upon the taffrail, where he could command a full
view of all he wanted to see; and then he called out, in a
stentorian voice:
“Heave again, sir!—be brisk, my lad!—be brisk!”
“Be-e-e-ther-r-r-dee-e-e-eep six!” followed almost as
soon as the Captain's voice had ceased.
“Ready-about!” shouted Cuffe. “See all clear, gentlemen.—Move
lively, men; move lively.”
“And-a-a-eh half-ef-four—”
“Stand by!—What the devil are you at, sir, on that fore-castle?—Are
you ready, forward?”
“All ready, sir—”
“Down with your helm—hard down, at once—”
“Be-e-e-ther-r-r-dee-e-e-p nine—”
“Meet her! — up with your helm. — Haul down your
sheets, forward—brail the spanker—let go all the bowlines,
aft.—So—well, there, well.—She flew round like a top; but,
by Jove, we've caught her, gentlemen.—Drag your bowlines,
again.—What's the news from the chains?”
“No bottom, sir, with fifteen fathoms out—and as good
a cast, too, sir, as we've had to-day.”
“So—you're rap full—don't fall off — very well dyce”
(Anglice, thus)—“keep her as you are.—Well, by the Lord,
Griffin, that was a shave; half-four was getting to be squally,
in a quarter of the world where a rock makes nothing of
pouting its lips fifteen or twenty feet at a time at a mariner.
We are past it all, however, and here is the land, trending
away to the southward, like a man in a consumption, fairly
under our lee. A dozen Raoul Yvards wouldn't lead me
into such a d—d scrape, again!”
“The danger that is over, is no longer a danger at all,
Cuffe, we might ease her about half a point? that would
be just her play; and the lugger keeps off a little, I rather
suspect, to ease her mainmast. I'm certain I saw chips
fly from it, when we dosed her with them two-and-twenty
pills.”
“Perhaps you 're right, Griffin.—Ease her, with the helm,
a little, Mr. Yelverton. If Master Yvard stands on his present
course an hour longer, Biguglia will be too far to-windward
for him; and, as for Bastia, that has been out of the
question, from the first. There is a river, called Golo, into
which he might run; and that, I rather think, is his aim.
Four hours, however, will let us into the secret.”
And four intensely interesting hours were those which
succeeded. The wind was a cap-full; a good, fresh, westerly
breeze, which seemed to have started out of the oven-like
heat of a week of intensely hot weather that had preceded
it, and to have collected the force of two or three zephyrs
into one. It was not a gale, at all, nor did it induce either
party to think of reefing; for, no trifle would have done
that, under the circumstances; but it caused the Proserpine
to furl her fore and mizzen-top-gallant-sails, and put Raoul
in better humour with the loss of his jigger. When fairly
round the headland, and, at a moment when he fancied the
frigate would be compelled to tack, the latter had seized an
opportunity to get in his foresail, to unbend it, and to bend
and set a new one; an operation that took just four minutes,
by the watch. He would have tried the same experiment
with the other lugg, but the mast was scarce worth the risk,
and he thought the holes might act as reefs, and thus diminish
the strain. In these four hours, owing to the disadvantage
under which le Feu-Follet laboured, there was not a
difference of half a knot in the distance run by the two vessels,
though each passed over more than thirty miles of
water. During this time they had been drawing rapidly
nearer to the coast of Corsica, the mountains of which,
ragged and crowned with nearly eternal snows, had been
glittering in the afternoon's sun, before them, though they
lay many a long league inland. But the formation of the
coast, itself, had now become plain, and Raoul, an hour
before the sun disappeared, had noted his landmarks, by
eastern coast of Corsica is as deficient in bays and harbours,
as its western is affluent with them; and this Golo, for which
the lugger was shaping her course, would never have been
thought of, as a place of shelter, under ordinary circumstances.
But, Raoul had once anchored in its mouth, and
he deemed it the very spot in which to elude his enemy. It
had shoals off its embouchure; and these, he rightly enough
fancied, would induce Captain Cuffe to be wary.
As the evening approached, the wind began to decrease in
force, and then the people of the lugger lost all their apprehensions.
The spars had all stood, and Raoul no longer
hesitated about trusting his wounded mainmast with a new
yard and sail. Both were got up, and the repairs were immediately
commenced. The superiority of the lugger, in
sailing, was now so great, as to put it out of all question
that she was not to be overtaken in the chase; and Raoul, at
one time, actually thought of turning up along the land, and
going into Bastia, where he might even provide himself with
a new mainmast, at need. But this idea, on reflection, he
abandoned, as too hazardous; and he continued on, in the
direction of the mouth of the Golo.
Throughout the day the Proserpine had shown no colours,
except for the short period when her boats were engaged,
and while she herself was firing at the lugger. The same
was the fact with le Feu-Follet, though Raoul had run up
the tri-colour, as he opened on the felucca, and he kept it
flying as long as there was any appearance of hostilities.
As the two vessels drew in near to the land, several coasters
were seen beating up against the westerly wind, or running
down before it, all of which, however, seemed so much to distrust
the appearance of the lugger, as to avoid her as far as
was possible. This was a matter of indifference to our
hero, who knew that they were all probably countrymen,
or, at least, smugglers, who would scarcely reward him for
the trouble, had he the time to bring them to, and capture
them. Corsica was then, again, in the hands of the French,
the temporary and imperfect possession of the English having
terminated three or four years earlier; and Raoul felt
certain of a welcome anywhere in the island, and of protection
wherever it could be offered. Such was the state of
among the shoals, the Proserpine unexpectedly tacked, and
seemed to bestow all her attention on the coasters, of which
three or four were so near that two fell into her hands almost
without an effort to escape.
It appeared to Raoul, and those with him in his little craft,
that the English seized these insignificant vessels solely with
a wish for vengeance, since it was not usual for ships of the
force of the Proserpine to turn aside to molest the poor fishermen
and coasters. A few execrations followed, quite as
a matter of course, but the intricacy of the channel and the
necessity of having all his eyes about him; soon drove every
other thought from the mind of the dashing privateersman,
but such as were connected with the care and safety of his
own vessel.
Just as the sun set le Feu-Follet anchored. She had
chosen a berth sufficiently within the shallow water to be
safe from the guns of the frigate, though scarcely within the
river. The latter the depth of the stream hardly permitted,
though there was all the shelter that the season and weather
required. The Proserpine manifested no intention to give
up her pursuit; for she, too, came off the outlet, and brought
up with one of her bowers, about two miles to-seaward of the
lugger. She seemed to have changed her mind as to the
coasters, having let both proceed, after a short detention;
though, it falling calm, neither was enabled to get any material
distance from her, until the land breeze should rise.
In these positions, the belligerents prepared to pass the night,
each party taking the customary precautions as to his ground
tackle, and each clearing up the decks and going through
the common routine of duty, as regularly as if he lay in a
friendly port.
| CHAPTER X. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet | |