University of Virginia Library

Halleck.

My Lord—I have the satisfaction of reporting, for the
information of my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty,
the destruction of the Republican privateer, the le Few-Folly,
commanded by the notorious Raoul Yvard, on the night of
the 22d inst. The circumstances attending this important
success, are as follows. Understanding that the celebrated
picaroon had been on the Neapolitan and Roman coasts,
doing much mischief, I took His Majesty's ship close in,
following up the peninsula, with the land in sight, until we
got through the Canal of Elba, early on the morning of the
21st. On opening Porto Ferrajo bay, we saw a lugger
lying at anchor off the town, with English colours flying.
As this was a friendly port, we could not suppose the craft
to be the le Few-Folly; but, determined to make sure, we
beat in, signalling the stranger, until he took advantage of
our stretching well over to the eastward, to slip round the
rocks, and get off to-windward. We followed, for a short
distance, and then ran over under the lee of Capraya, where
we remained until the morning of the 22d, when we again
went off the town. We found the lugger in the offing; and
being now well satisfied of her character, and it falling calm,
I sent the boats after her, under Messrs. Winchester and
Griffin, the first and second of this ship. After a sharp
skirmish, in which we sustained some loss, though that of
the Republicans was evidently much greater, Monsieur
Yvard succeeded in effecting his escape, in consequence of a
breeze's suddenly springing up. Sail was now made on the
ship, and we chased the lugger into the mouth of the Golo.

Having fortunately captured a felucca, with a quantity of
tar, and other combustible materials on board, as we drew
in with the land, I determined to make a fire-ship of her, and
to destroy the enemy by that mode; he having anchored
within the shoals, beyond the reach of shot. Mr. Winchester,
the first, having been wounded in the boat-affair, I
entrusted the execution of this duty to Mr. Griffin, who
handsomely volunteered, and by whom it was effectually
discharged, about ten last evening, in the coolest and most
officer-like manner. I enclose this gentleman's report of
the affair, and beg leave to recommend him to the favour of
my Lords Commissioners. With Mr. Winchester's good
conduct, under a sharp fire, in the morning, the service has
also every reason to be satisfied. I hope this valuable officer
will soon be able to return to duty.

Permit me to congratulate you, my lord, on the complete
destruction of this most pernicious cruiser of the enemy. So
effectual has it been, that not a spar, or a fragment of wreck,
remains. We have reason to think every soul on board
perished; and though this fearful loss of human life is to be
deeply deplored, it has been made in the service of good
government and religion. The lugger was filled with loose
women; our people hearing them singing their philosophical
and irreligious songs, as they approached with the fire-vessel.
I shall search the coast for any rafts that may be drifting
about, and then proceed to Leghorn for fresh provisions.

I have the honour to be, my lord,

Cuffe read this report over twice; then he sent for Griffin,
to whom he read it aloud, glancing his eye meaningly at his
subordinate, when he came to the part where he spoke of
the young man's good conduct.

“So much for that d—d Jack-o'-Lantern, Griffin! I
fancy it will lead no one else on a wild-goose chase.”

“I trust not, sir. Will you allow me to suggest a slight
alteration in the spelling of the lugger's name, Captain Cuffe;
the clerk can make it, when he writes out the letter fairly.”

“Ay—I dare say, it is different from what we would have
it; French spelling being no great matter, in general. Put
it as you please; though Nelson has as great a contempt
for their boasted philosophy and learning, as I have myself.
I fancy you will find all the English spelt right. How do
you write their confounded gibberish?”

“Feu-Follet, sir, pronouncing the last part of it fol-lay;
not fol-ly. I was thinking of asking leave, Captain Cuffe,
to take one of the cutters, and pull up to the lugger's anchorage,
and see if anything can be found of her wreck. The
ship will hardly get under-way until the westerly wind
comes.”

“No, probably not. I will order my gig manned, and
we'll go together. Poor Winchester must keep house
awhile; so there is no use in asking him. I saw no necessity
for putting Nelson into a passion, by saying anything
about the exact amount of our loss, in that boat scrape,
Griffin.”

“I agree with you, sir, that it is best as it is.—`Some loss'
covers every thing—it means, `more or less.”'

“That was just my notion.—I dare say, there may have
been twenty women in the lugger?”

“I can't answer for the number, sir; but I heard female
singing, as we got near, in the fire-ship; and think it likely
there may have been that number. The lugger was full-manned;
for they were like bees swarming on her forecastle,
when we were dropping foul. I saw Raoul Yvard, by the
light of the fire, as plainly as I now see you; and might
have picked him off with a musket; but that would hardly
have been honourable.”

To this Cuffe assented, and then he led the way on deck,
having previously ordered the boats manned. The two
officers proceeded to the spot where they supposed the Feu-Follet
had been anchored, and rowed round, for near an
hour, endeavouring to find some traces of her wreck on the
bottom. Griffin suggested that, when the magazine was
drowned, in the hurry and confusion of the moment, the cock
may have been left open—a circumstance that might very
well have carried down the bottom of so small a vessel, in
two or three hours; more especially after her hull had
burnt to the water's edge. The next thing was to find this

bottom, by no means a hopeless task, as the waters of the
Mediterranean are usually so clear, that the eye can penetrate
several fathoms, even off the mouth of the Golo; a
stream that brought more or less débris from the mountains.
It is scarcely necessary to say, that the search was not
rewarded with success, the Feu-Follet being, just at that
time, snug at anchor at Bastia, where her people had already
taken out her wounded mainmast, with a view to step a new
one in its place. At that very moment, Carlo Giuntotardi
his niece, and Raoul Yvard, were walking up the principal
street of the town, the place standing on a hill, like Porto
Ferrajo, perfectly at their ease, as regards fire-ships, English
frigates, and the dangers of the seas. But all this was
a profound mystery to Cuffe and his companions, who had
long been in the habit of putting the most favourable constructions
on the results of their professional undertakings,
and, certainly, not altogether without reason; and who
nothing doubted that le Feu-Follet had, to use their own
language, “laid her bones somewhere along-shore, here.”

After two or three hours passed in a fruitless search, Cuffe
determined to return to his ship. He was a keen sportsman,
and had brought a fowling-piece with him, in his gig, with a
half-formed design of landing, and whiling away the time,
until the westerly wind came, among some marshes that he
saw near the shore; but had been persuaded, by Griffin, not
to venture.

“There must be woodcock in that wet ground, Griffin,”
he said, as he reluctantly yielded a little in his intention;
“and Winchester would fancy a bird, exceedingly, in a day
or two. I never was hit, in my life, that I did not feel a
desire for game, after the fever was gone. Snipe, too, must
live on the banks of that stream. Snipe are coming in
season, now, Griffin?”

“It's more likely, sir, that some of the privateersmen
have got ashore on planks, and empty casks, and are prowling
about in the weeds, watching our boats. Three or four
of them would be too much for you, Captain Cuffe, as the
scoundrels all carry knives as long as ships' cutlasses.”

“I suppose your notion may be true; and I shall have to
give it up. Pull back to the frigate, Davy, and we'll be off
after some more of these French ragamuffins.”

This settled the matter. In half-an-hour, the boats were
swinging at the Proserpine's quarters; and three hours
later, the ship was under her canvass, standing slowly off
the land. That day, however, the zephyr was exceedingly
light, and the sun set, just as the ship got the small island
of Pianosa abeam; when the air came from the northward,
and the ship's head was laid in to the eastward; the course
lying between the land just mentioned, and that of Elba.
All night the Proserpine was slowly fanning her way along
the south side of the latter island, when, getting the southerly
air again, in the morning, she reappeared in the Canal of
Piombino, as the day advanced, precisely as she had done
before, when first introduced to the acquaintance of the
reader. Cuffe had given orders to be called, as usual, when
the light was about to return; it being a practice with him,
in that active and pregnant war, to be on deck at such moments,
in order to ascertain, with his own eyes, what the
fortunes of the night had brought within his reach.

“Well, Mr. Griffin,” he said, as soon as he had received
the salutation of the officer of the watch, “you have had a
still night of it. Yonder is the Point of Piombino, I see; and
here we have got Elba, and this little rocky island, again,
on our larboard hand. One day is surprisingly like another,
about these times, for us mariners, in particular.”

“Do you really think so, Captain Cuffe?—Now, to my
notion, this day hasn't had its equal on the Proserpine's log,
since we got hold of I'Epervier, and her convoy. You forget,
sir, that we destroyed le Feu-Follet, last night!”

“Ay — that is something — especially for you, Griffin.
Well, Nelson will hear of it by mail, as soon as we can get
into Leghorn; which will be immediately after I have had
an opportunity of communicating with these people in Porto
Ferrajo. After all that has passed, the least we can do is to
let your veechy-govern-the-tories know of our success.”

“Sail, ho!” shouted the look-out, on the foretopsail-yard.

The two officers turned, and gazed around them, in every
direction, when the captain made the customary demand of
“Where-away?”

“Here, sir, close aboard of us, on our larboard hand, and
on our weather quarter.”

“On our weather quarter!—D—n me, if that can be

true, Griffin. There is nothing but the island, there.—The
fellow cannot have mistaken this little island for the hull of
a ship!”

“If he has, sir,” answered Griffin, laughing, “it must be
for a twenty-decker. That is Ben Brown, aloft; and he is
as good a look-out as we have in the ship.”

“Do you see her, sir?” demanded Ben Brown, looking
over his shoulder, to put the question.

“Not a bit of her,” cried Cuffe. “You must be dreaming,
fellow.—What does she look like!”

“There, this small island shuts her in, from the deck, sir.
She is a lugger; and looks as much like the one we burnt
last night, sir, as one of our cat-heads is like t'other.”

“A lugger!” exclaimed Cuffe. “What, another of the
blackguards! By Jove! I'll go aloft, and take a look for
myself. It's ten to one that I see her from the maintop.”

In three minutes more, Captain Cuffe was in the top in
question; having passed through the lubber-hole, as every
sensible man does, in a frigate, more especially when she
stands up for want of wind. That was an age in which
promotion was rapid; there being few grey-bearded lieutenants,
then, in the English marine; and even admirals were
not wanting who had not cut all their wisdom-teeth. Cuffe,
consequently, was still a young man; and it cost him no
great effort to get up his ship's ratlins, in the manner named.
Once in the top, he had all his eyes about him. For quite
a minute, he stood motionless, gazing in the direction that
had been pointed out by Ben Brown. All this time Griffin
stood on the quarter-deck, looking quite as intently at his
superior, as the latter gazed at the strange sail. Then Cuffe
deigned to cast a glance literally beneath him, in order to
appease the curiosity, which, he well understood, it was so
natural for the officer of the watch to feel. Griffin did not
dare to ask his captain what he saw; but he looked a volume
of questions on the interesting subject.

“A sister corsair, by Jupiter Ammon!” cried Cuffe; “a
twin sister, too; for they are as much alike as one cat-head
is like another. More, by Jove, if I am any judge.”

“What will you have us do, Captain Cuffe?” inquired the
lieutenant. “We are now going to leeward, all the while.

I don't know, sir, that there is positively a current here,
but—”

“Very well, sir—very well—haul up on the larboard
tack, as soon as possible, and get the larboard batteries clear.
We may have to cripple the chap, in order to get hold of
him.”

As this was said, Cuffe descended through the same lubber-hole,
and soon appeared on deck. The ship, now, became
a scene of activity and bustle. All hands were called, and
the guns were cleared away, by some, while others braced
the yards, according to the new line of sailing.

The reader would be greatly aided, in understanding what
is to follow, could he, perchance, cast a look at a map of
the cast of Italy. He will there see that the eastern side
of the Island of Elba, runs in a nearly north and south
direction, Piombino lying off about north-north-east, from its
northern extremity. Near this northern extremity, lies the
little rocky islet, so often mentioned, or the spot which Napoleon,
fifteen years later, selected as the advanced redoubt
of his insular empire. Of course, the Proserpine was on one
side of this islet, and the strange lugger on the other. The
first had got so far through the Canal, as to be able to haul
close upon the wind, on the larboard tack, and yet to clear
the islet; while the last was just far enough to windward, or
sufficiently to the southward, to be shut out from view, from
the frigate's decks, by the intervening rocks. As the distance
from the islet to the island did not much exceed a
hundred or two yards, Captain Cuffe hoped to enclose his
chase between himself and the land, never dreaming that
the stranger would think of standing through so narrow and
rocky a pass. He did not know his man, however, who
was Raoul Yvard; and who had come this way, from Bastia,
in the hope of escaping any further collision with his formidable
foe. He had seen the frigate's lofty sails, above the
rock, as soon as it was light; and being under no hallucination,
on the subject of her existence, he knew her at a glance.
His first order was to haul everything as flat as possible;
and his great desire was, to get from under the lee of the
mountains of Elba, into this very pass, through which the
wind drew with more force, than it blew anywhere, near by.

As the Proserpine was quite a league off, in the Canal, le

Feu-Follet, which sailed so much the fastest, in light winds,
had abundance of time to effect her object. Instead of
avoiding the narrow pass between the two islands, Raoul
glided boldly into it; and, by keeping vigilant eyes on his
fore-yard, to apprize him of danger, he succeeded in making
two stretches, in the strait itself, coming out to the southward,
on the starboard tack, handsomely clearing the end of the
islet, at the very instant the frigate appeared on the other
side of the pass. The lugger had now an easy task of it;
for she had only to watch her enemy, and tack in season, to
keep the islet between them; since the English did not dare
to carry so large a ship through so narrow an opening.
This advantage Raoul did not overlook, and Cuffe had gone
about twice, closing, each time, nearer and nearer to the islet,
before he was satisfied that his guns would be of no service,
until he could, at least, weather the intervening object; after
which they would most probably be useless, in so light a
wind, by the distance between them and their enemy.

“Never mind, Mr. Griffin; let this scamp go,” said the
captain, when he made this material discovery; “it is pretty
well to have cleared the seas of one of them.—Besides, we
do not know that this is an enemy, at all. He showed no
colours, and seems to have just come out of Porto Ferrajo,
a friendly haven.”

“Raoul Yvard did that, sir, not once, but twice,” muttered
Yelverton, who, from the circumstance that he had not been
employed in the different attempts on le Feu-Follet, was one
of the very few dissentients in the ship, touching her fate.
“These twins are exceedingly alike; especially Pomp, as
the American negro said of his twin children.”

This remark passed unheeded; for so deep was the delusion,
in the ship, touching the destruction of the privateer, it
would have been as hopeless an attempt, to try to persuade
her officers and people, generally, that le Feu-Follet was not
burned, as it would be to induce a “great nation” to believe
it had any of the weaknesses and foibles that confessedly
beset smaller communities. The Proserpine was put about,
again; and, setting her ensign, she stood into the bay of
Porto Ferrajo; anchoring quite near the place that Raoul
had selected for the same purpose, on two previous occasions.
The gig was lowered, and Cuffe, accompanied by Griffin, as

an interpreter, landed, to pay the usual visit of ceremony to
the authorities.

The wind being so light, several hours were necessary
to effect all these changes; and, by the time the two officers
were ascending the terraced street, the day had advanced
sufficiently to render the visit suitable, as to time. Cuffe
appearing in full uniform, with epaulettes and sword, his
approach attracted notice; and Vito Viti had hurried off to
apprize his friend of the honour he was about to receive.
The vice-governatore was not taken by surprise, therefore,
but had some little time to prepare his excuses, for being the
dupe of a fraud, as impudent as that which Raoul Yvard
had so successfully practised on him. The reception was
dignified, though courteous; and it had none the less of
ceremony, from the circumstance that all which was said by
the respective colloquists, had to be translated, before it
could be understood. This circumstance rendered the few
first minutes of the interview a little constrained; but each
party having something on his mind, of which it was his
desire to be relieved, natural feeling soon got the better of
forms.

“I ought to explain to you, Sir Cuffe, the manner in
which a recent event occurred in our bay, here,” observed
the vice-governatore; “since, without such explanation, you
might be apt to consider us neglectful of our duties, and
unworthy of the trust which the Grand Duke reposes in
us. I allude, as you will at once understand, to the circumstance
that le Feu-Follet has twice been lying peaceably
under the guns of our batteries, while her commander, and,
indeed, some of her crew, have been hospitably entertained
on shore.”

“Such things must occur, in times like these, Mr. Veechy-Governatory;
and we seamen set them down to the luck of
war,” Cuffe answered, graciously, being much too magnanimous,
under his own success, to think of judging others too
harshly. “It might not be so easy to deceive a man-of-war's-man,
like myself; but, I dare say, Veechy-Governatory,
had it been anything relating to the administration of
your little island, here, even Monsieur Yvard would have
found you too much for him?”

The reader will perceive that Cuffe had got a new way

of pronouncing the appellation of the Elban functionary; a
circumstance that was owing to the desire we all have, when
addressing foreigners, to speak in their own language, rather
than in our own. The worthy captain had no more precise
ideas of what a vice-governor means, than the American
people, just now, seem to possess of the signification of vice-president;
but, as he had discovered that the word was
pronounced “veechy,” in Italian, he was quite willing to
give it its true sound; albeit, a smile struggled round the
mouth of Griffin, while he listened.

“You do me no more than justice, Signor Kooffe, or Sir
Kooffe, as, I presume, I ought to address you,” answered the
functionary; “for, in matters touching our duties on shore,
here, we are by no means as ignorant, as on matters touching
your honourable calling. This Raoul Yvard presented
himself, to me, in the character of a British officer, one I
esteem and respect; having audaciously assumed the name
of a family of high condition, and of great power, I believe,
among your people—”

“Ah—the Barone!” exclaimed Cuffe; who, having discovered
by his intercourse with the southern Italians that
this word meant a “rascal,” as well as a “baron,” was fond
of using it, on suitable occasions. “Pray, Veechy-Governatory,
what name did he assume? Ca'endish, or Howard,
or Seymour, or some of those great nobs, Griffin, I'll engage!
I wonder that he spared Nelson!”

“No, Signore, he took the family appellation of another
illustrious race. The republican corsair presented himself
before me as a Sir Smees—the son of a certain Milordo
Smees.”

“Smees—Smees—Smees!—I've no recollection of any
such name, in the peerage. It can't be Seymour that the
Veechy means!—That is a great name, certainly; and some
of them have been in the service; it is possible this barone
may have had the impudence to hail for a Seymour!”

“I rather think not, Captain Cuffe. `Smees' is very
much as an Italian would pronounce `Smith,' as, you know,
the French call it `Smeet.' It will turn out that this Mr.
Raoul has seized upon the first English name he fell in with,
as a man overboard clutches at a spar adrift, or a life-buoy;
and that happened to be `Smith.”'

“Who the devil ever heard of a my lord Smith! A
pretty sort of aristocracy we should have, Griffin, if it were
made up of such fellows!”

“Why, sir, the name can make no great difference; the
deeds and the antiquity forming the essentials.”

“And he assumed a title to—Sir Smees!—I dare say, he
was ready to swear His Majesty made him a Knight Banneret,
under the royal ensign, and on the deck of his own
ship; as was done with some of the old admirals. The
veechy, however, has forgotten a part of the story, as it
must have been Sir John, or Sir Thomas Smees, at least.”

“No, sir; that is the way with the French and the Italians,
who do not understand our manner of using Christian names
with titles; as in our Sir Edwards, and Lord Harrys, and
Lady Bettys.”

“Blast the French! I can believe anything of them,
though I should have thought that these Italians knew better.
However, it may be well to give the veechy a hint of
what we have been saying, or it may seem rude—and,
hearkee, Griffin, while you are about it, rub him down a
little touching books, and that sort of thing; for the surgeon
tells me, he has heard of him, in Leghorn, as a regular leaf-cutter.”

The lieutenant did as ordered, throwing in an allusion to
Andrea's reputation for learning, that, under the circumstances,
was not ill-timed; and which, as it was well-enough
expressed, was exceedingly grateful to his listener, just at
that awkward moment.

“My claims to literature are but small, Signore,” answered
Andrea, with humility, “as I beg you will inform
Sir Kooffe; but they were sufficient to detect certain assumptions
of this corsair; a circumstance that came very near
bringing about an exposure, at a most critical moment. He
had the audacity, Signore, to wish to persuade me, that there
was a certain English orator of the same name, and of equal
merit of him of Roma and Pompeii—one Sir Cicero!”

“The Barone!” again exclaimed Cuffe, when this new
offence of Raoul's was explained to him. “I believe the
rascal was up to anything. But there is an end of him,
now, with all his Sir Smees, and Sir Ciceroes, into the bargain.

Just let the veechy into the secret of the fellow's fate,
Griffin.”

Griffin then related to the vice-governatore the manner in
which it was supposed that le Feu-Follet, Raoul Yvard, and
all his associates, had been consumed, like caterpillars on a
tree. Andrea Barrofaldi listened, with a proper degree of
horror expressed in his countenance; but Vito Viti heard the
tale with signs of indifference and incredulity that he did not
care to conceal. Nevertheless, Griffin persevered, until he
had even given an account of the manner in which he and
Cuffe examined the lugger's anchorage, in the bootless attempt
to discover the wreck.

To all this, the two functionaries listened with profound
attention, and a lively surprise. After looking at each other
several times, and exchanging significant gestures, Andrea
assumed the office of explaining.

“There is some extraordinary mistake in this, Signor
Tenente,” he said; “for Raoul Yvard still lives. He passed
this promontory just as day dawned, in his lugger, this very
morning!”

“Ay, he has got that notion from having seen the fellow
we fell in with off the harbour, here,” answered Cuffe, when
this speech was translated to him; “and I don't wonder at
it, for the two vessels were surprisingly alike. But the
Barone, that we saw burned with our own eyes, Griffin, can
never float again. I say Barone; for, in my opinion, the
Few-Folly was just as much of a rascal, as her commander,
and all who sailed in her.”

Griffin explained this; but it met with no favour from the
two Italians.

“Not so, Signor Tenente—not so,” returned the vice-governatore;
“the lugger that passed, this morning, we
know to be le Feu-Follet, inasmuch as she took one of our
own feluccas, in the course of the night, coming from
Livorno, and Raoul Yvard permitted her to come in, as he
said to her padrone, on account of the civil treatment he had
received, while lying in our port. Nay, he even carried his
presumption so far, as to send me, by means of the same
man, the compliments of `Sir Smees,' and his hopes of being
able, some day, to make his acknowledgments in person.”

The English Captain received this intelligence, as might
be expected; and, unpleasant as it was, after putting various
questions to the vice-governatore, and receiving the answers,
he was obliged, unwillingly enough, to believe it all. He
had brought his official report in his pocket; and, as the
conversation proceeded, he covertly tore it into fragments,
so small, that even a Mahommedan would reject them, as
not large enough to write the word “Allah” on.

“It 's d—h lucky, Griffin, that letter didn't get to Leghorn,
this morning,” he said, after a long pause. “Nelson
would have Brontéd me, famously, had he got it! Yet, I
never believed half as devoutly in the twenty-nine articles,
as—”

“I believe there are thirty-nine of them, Captain Cuffe,”
modestly put in Griffin.

“Well, thirty-nine, if you will—what signifies ten, more
or less, in such matters? A man is ordered to believe them
all, if there were a hundred.—But I never believed in them,
as devoutly, as I believed in the destruction of that infernal
picaroon. My faith is unsettled, for life!”

Griffin offered a few words of condolence, but he was also
too much mortified to be very able to administer consolation.
Andrea Barrofaldi, understanding the state of the case, now
interposed with his courtesies, and the two officers were invited
to share his bachelor's breakfast. What followed, in
consequence of this visit, and the communications to which
it gave rise, will appear in the course of the narrative.