 | CHAPTER XIII. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
And firmly placed his foot before:—
`Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I!”'
Lady of the Lake.
Our battle will be told with greater clearness, if the reader
is furnished with an outline of its order. As has been
more than once intimated already, Sir Frederick Dashwood
had made all his preparations to commence the assault from
the side of the land, the object being to prevent a retreat to
the shore. Raoul had foreseen the probability of this, and,
with a special view to prevent the two vessels from being
as left low barriers of rocks between them and that
quarter of the bay. These rocks were portions that were
not visible at any distance, being just awash, as it is termed,
or on a level with the surface of the water; offering the
same sort of protection against an attack in boats, that ditches
afford in cases of assaults on terra-firmâ. This was a material
advantage to the expected defence, and our hero showed
his discrimination in adopting it. On board the felucca,
which was named The Holy Michael, was Ithuel with fifteen
men, and two twelve-pound carronades, with a proper supply
of small-arms and ammunition. The Granite-man was the
only officer, though he had with him three or four of the
lugger's best men.
Le Feu-Follet was confided to the care of Jules Pintard,
her first-lieutenant, who had under his immediate orders
some five-and-twenty of the crew, to work four more of the
carronades. The lugger had a part only of her ballast in,
and something like a third of her stores. The remainder
of both still lay on the adjacent rocks, in waiting for the
result of the day. She was thought, however, to be sufficiently
steady for any service that might be expected of her
while moored, and might even have carried whole sail, in
light winds, with perfect safety. All four of her guns were
brought over on one side, in readiness to use in battery in
the same direction. By this arrangement the French essentially
increased their means of defence, bringing all their
artillery into use at the same time; an expedient that could
not have been adopted had they been fought in broadside.
Raoul had planted among the ruins the remaining four
guns. With the aid of a few planks, the breechings, tackles,
and other appliances of a vessel, this had been easily effected;
and, on reviewing his work, he had great confidence in
the permanency of his pieces. The ruins themselves were
no great matter; at a little distance they were scarcely perceptible;
though, aided by the formation of the natural rock,
and by removing some of the stones to more favourable positions,
they answered the purpose of the seamen sufficiently
well. The carronades were placed en-barbette; but a falling
of the surface of the rock enabled the men to cover
would be much the greatest to those whose duty it would be
to reload.
The surgeon, Carlo Giuntotardi, and Ghita, were established
in a cavity of the rocks, perfectly protected against
missiles, so long as the enemy continued on the side next
the land, and yet within fifty feet of the battery. Here the
former made the usual bloody-looking if not bloody-minded
preparations for applying tourniquets and for amputating, all
unheeded, however, by his two companions, both of whom
were lost to the scene around them, in devout prayer.
Just as these several dispositions were completed, Ithuel,
who ever kept an eye to windward, called out to Raoul, and
inquired if it might not be well to run the yards up to the
mast-heads, as they would be more out of the way in their
place aloft than littering the decks. There was no possible
objection to the measure, it being a dead calm, and both the
lugger and the felucca swayed their yards into their places,
the sails being bent, and hanging in the brails. This is the
ordinary state of craft of the latter rig, though not always
that of luggers; and the Granite-man, mindful that his own
gear was down, in consequence of having been lowered by
her former owners previously to the capture, bethought him
of the expediency of getting everything ready for a run.
He wished the lugger to be in an equal state of preparation,
it being plain enough that two to be pursued, would embarrass
the English, in a chase, twice as much as one. This
was the reason of his suggestion; and he felt happier for seeing
it attended to.
On the other side, all preliminary difficulties had been
disposed of. Captain Sir Frederick Dashwood was in command,
and lieutenants Winchester and Griffin, after a few
open protestations, certain grimaces, and divers secret curses,
were fain to submit. The discussion, however, had produced
one result, not altogether unfavourable to the Proserpines.
Cuffe sent four of her boats against the enemy, while he
restricted the Terpsichore to two, including her gig, and the
Ringdove to two. Each ship sent her launch, as a matter
of course, with a twelve-pound boat-gun on its grating.
Griffin was in that of the Proserpine; Mr. Stothard, the
second of the other frigate, was in the Terpsichore's; and
was in the first cutter of his own ship, and Clinch had
charge of the second. The third was headed by Strand,
whose call was to have precedence on the occasion. The
other boats had subordinates, from their respective ships.
All were in good heart; and, while all expected a severe
struggle for her, knowing the desperate character of their
enemy, every man in the boats felt confident that the lugger
was finally to fall into British hands. Still, a grave consideration
of the possible consequences to the actors, mingled
with the exultation of the more reflecting men among the
assailants.
Sir Frederick Dashwood, who ought to have felt the moral
responsibility of his command, of all the higher officers present,
was the most indifferent to consequences. Constitutionally
brave, personal considerations had little influence on
him; habitually confident of English prowess, he expected
victory and credit as a matter of course; and, favoured by
birth, fortune and parliamentary interest, he gave himself
no trouble as to the possibility of a failure, certain (though
not avowing that certainty even to himself,) that any little
mishap would be covered by the broad mantle of the accident,
that had so early raised him to the rank he held.
In making his dispositions for the fight, however, Sir Frederick
had not disdained the counsels of men older and more
experienced than himself. Cuffe had given him much good
advice, before they parted, and Winchester and Strand had
been particularly recommended to him as seamen whose
suggestions might turn out to be useful.
“I send a master's-mate named Clinch, in charge of one
of our boats, too, Dashwood,” added the senior captain, as
he concluded his remarks; “who is one of the most experienced
seamen in the Proserpine. He has seen much boatservice,
and has always behaved himself well. A vile practice
of drinking has kept the poor fellow under; but he is
now determined to make an effort, and I beg you will put
him forward to-day, that he may have a chance. Jack
Clinch has the right sort of stuff in him, if opportunities offer
to bring it out.”
“I flatter myself, Cuffe, that all hands will meet with
opportunity enough,” answered Sir Frederick, in his drawling
thorough pack coming in at the death. I 've seen Lord
Echo's harriers so close, at the end of a long chase, that you
might have covered the whole with this ship's main-course;
and I intend it shall be so with our boats, to-day. By the
way, Cuffe, that would be a pretty figure for a despatch, and
would make Bronté smile—ha!—wouldn't it?”
“D—n the figure, the harriers, and the despatch, too,
Dashwood; first win the day, before you begin to write
poetry about it. Bronté, as you call Nelson, has lightning
in him, as well as thunder, and there isn't an admiral in the
service, who cares less for blood and private rank than himself.
The way to make him smile, is to do a thing neatly
and well. For God's sake, now, be careful of the men;—
we are short-handed, as it is, and can't afford such another
scrape, as that off Porto Ferrajo.”
“Never fear for us, Cuffe; you 'll never miss the men I
shall expend.”
Every captain had a word to say to his officers; but none
other worth recording, with the exception of what passed
between Lyon and his first-lieutenant.
“Ye 'll remember, Airchy, that a ship can have a reputation
for economy, as well as a man. There's several of
our own countrymen about the Admiralty just now; and
next to courage and enterprise, they view the expenditures
with the keenest eyes. I 've known an admiral reach a red
ribbon just on that one quality; his accounts showing
cheaper ships and cheaper squadrons than any in the sairvice.
Ye'll all do your duties, for the honour o' Scotland;
but there's six or seven Leith and Glasgow lads in the boats,
that it may be as well not to let murder themselves, out of
a' need. I 've put the whole of the last draft from the river
guard-ship, into the boats, and with them there 's no great
occasion to be tender. They 're the sweepings of the
Thames and Wapping; and quite half of them would have
been at Botany Bay before this, had they not been sent
here.”
“Does the law about being in sight, apply to the boats,
or to the ships, the day, Captain Lyon?”
“To the boats, man; or who the de'il do you think would
sairve in them! It 's a pitiful affair, altogether, as it has
opine; and yet 't will never do to let old Scotia lag astairn,
in a hand-to-hand battle. Ye 'll remember, we have a name
for coming to the claymore; and so do yer best, every
mither's son o' ye.”
McBean grunted an assent, and went about his work as
methodically as if it were a sum in algebra. The second-lieutenant
of the Terpsichore was a young Irishman, with a
sweet, musical voice; and, as the boats left the ships, he was
with difficulty kept in the line, straining to move ahead, with
his face on a grin, and his cheers stimulating the men to
undue, or unreasonable efforts. Such is an outline of the
English materials on this occasion; both parties being now
ready for the struggle. If we add that it was already past
two, and that all hands began to feel some anxiety on the
score of the wind, which might soon be expected, the preliminary
picture is sufficiently sketched.
Sir Frederick Dashwood had formed his line about a mile
within the rocks, with one launch in the centre, and one on
each extremity. That in the centre was commanded by
O'Leary, his own second-lieutenant; that on the left of his
force by McBean, and the one on its right by Winchester.
O'Leary was flanked by Griffin and Clinch, in the Proserpine's
cutters, while the intervals were filled by the remaining
boats. The captain kept moving about in his own gig, giving
his directions, somewhat confusedly, beyond a question; yet
with a cheerfulness and indifference of air that aided in keeping
alive the general gaité de cœur. When all was ready,
he gave the signal to advance, pulling, for the first half mile,
chivalrously in advance of the line, with his own gig.
Raoul had noted the smallest movement of the enemy
with a glass, and with grave attention. Nothing escaped
his jealous watchfulness; and he saw that Sir Frederick had
made a capital error in the outset. Had he strengthened
his centre, by putting all his carronades in the same battery,
as it might be, the chances for success would have been
doubled; but, by dividing them, he so far weakened their
effect, as to render it certain no one of the three French batteries
could be wholly crippled by their fire. This, of
course, left the difficult task to the English of pushing up to
constant discharges of grape and canister.
The few minutes that intervened between the order to
advance, and the moment when the boats got within a quarter
of a mile of the rock, were passed in a profound quiet,
neither side making any noise, though Raoul had no small
difficulty in restraining the constitutional impatience of his
own men to begin. A boat presents so small an object,
however, to artillerists as little skilled as seamen generally
are, who depend more on general calculations than on the
direct or scientific aim, the latter being usually defeated
by the motion of their vessels, that he was unwilling to throw
away even his canister. A Frenchman himself, however, he
could refrain no longer, and he pointed a carronade, firing it
with his own hand. This was the commencement of the
strife. All the other guns in the ruin followed, and the
lugger kept time, as it might be by note. The English rose,
gave three cheers, and each launch discharged her gun. At
the same instant, the two men who held the matches in the
felucca, applied them briskly to the vents of their respective
pieces. To their surprise, neither exploded, and, on examination,
it was discovered that the priming had vanished. To
own the truth, he of the Granite state had slily brushed his
hand over the guns, and robbed them of this great essential
of their force. He held the priming-horns in his own hands,
and resolutely refused to allow them to pass into those of
any other person.
It was fortunate Ithuel was known to be such a determined
hater of the English, else might his life have been the
forfeit of this seeming act of treachery. But he meditated
no such dereliction of duty. Perfectly aware of the impossibility
of preventing his men from firing, did they possess
the means, this deliberate and calculating personage had
resorted to this expedient to reserve his own effort, until, in
his judgment, it might prove the most available. His men
murmured, but, too much excited to deliberate, they poured
in a discharge of musketry, as the only means of annoying
the enemy then left them. Even Raoul glanced aside, a
little wondering at not hearing the felucca's carronades, but
perceiving her people busy with their fire-arms, he believed
all right.
The first discharge, in such an affair, is usually the most
destructive. On the present occasion, the firing was not
without serious effects. The English, much the most exposed,
suffered in proportion. Four men were hurt in Winchester's
boat; two in Griffin's; six or eight men in the
other launches and cutters, and one of Sir Frederick's gig-men
was shot through the heart; a circumstance which
induced that officer to drop alongside of a cutter, and exchange
the dead body for a living man.
On the rocks, but one man was injured. A round-shot
had hit a stone, shivered it in fragments, and struck down a
valuable seaman, just as he was advancing, with a gallant
mien, to spunge one of the guns.
“Poor Josef!” said Raoul, as he witnessed the man's
fall; “carry him to the surgeon, mes braves.”
“Mon Capitaine—Josef is dead.”
This decided the matter, and the body was laid aside,
while another stepped forward and spunged the gun. At
that moment Raoul found leisure to walk a yard or two
towards the rear, in order to ascertain if the cover of Ghita
were sufficient. The girl was on her knees, lost to all
around her, though, could he have read her heart, he would
have found it divided between entreaties to the Deity and
love for himself.
The lugger sustained no harm. O'Leary had overshot
her, in his desire to make his missiles reach. Not even a
canister had lodged in her spars, or torn her sails. The
usual luck appeared to attend her, and the people on board
fought with renewed confidence and zeal. Not so with the
felucca, however. Here the fire of the English had been
the most destructive. The wary and calculating McBean
had given his attention to this portion of the French defences,
and the consequences partook of the sagacity and discretion
of the man. A charge of canister had swept across the
felucca's decks, more than decimating Ithuel's small force;
for it actually killed one, and wounded three of his party.
But, the din once commenced, there was no leisure to
pause. The fire was kept up with animation, on both sides,
and men fell rapidly. The boats cheered and pressed ahead,
the water becoming covered with a wide sheet of smoke.
In moments like this, the safest course for the assailants
every fathom they advanced, but suffering also. The constant
discharge of the carronades, and the total absence of
wind, soon caused a body of smoke to collect in front of the
rock, while the English brought on with them another, trailing
along the water, the effect of their own fire. The two
shrouds soon united, and then there was a minute when the
boats could only be seen with indistinctness. This was
Ithuel's moment. Perceiving that the ten or twelve men
who remained to him were engrossed with their muskets, he
pointed the two carronades himself, and primed them from
the horns which he had never quitted. For the felucca he
felt no present concern. Winchester, and all the boats in
the centre of the English line, were most in advance, the fire
of the ruins urging them to the greatest exertion. Then
McBean, beside being more distant, could not cross the rock
in front of the felucca, without making a circuit, and he must,
as yet, be ignorant of the existence of the impediment.
Ithuel was cool and calculating by nature, as well as by
habit; but this immunity from present risk, probably increased
the immediate possession of qualities so important in
battle. His carronades were loaded to their muzzles, with
bags of bullets, and he beckoned to the best seaman of his
party to take one of the matches, while he used the other
himself, each holding a monkey's-tail in one hand, in readiness
to train the light gun, as circumstances required. The
pieces had been depressed by Ithuel himself, in the midst of
the fray, and nothing remained but to wait the moment for
using them.
This moment was now near. The object of the English
was to land on the principal islet, and to carry the ruin by
storm. In order to do this, all the boats of their centre
converged in their courses to the same point, and the smoke
being driven off, by each concussion of the guns, a dark
cluster of the enemy diverged from the ragged outline of the
vapour, within fifty yards of the intended point of landing.
Ithuel and his companion were ready. Together they
sighted, and together they fired. This unexpected discharge
from a quarter that had been so comparatively silent, surprised
both friends and foes, and it drove a fresh mantle of
its front.
A cry arose from the dense shroud of battle, that differed
from the shouts of success and courage. Physical agony
had extorted shrieks from the stoutest hearts, and even the
French in the ruins paused to look for the next act of the
desperate drama. Raoul seized the opportunity to prepare
for the expected hand-to-hand struggle; but it was unnecessary.
The cessation in the firing was common in both
parties, and it gave the vapour a minute in which to lift
the curtain from the water.
When the late obstacle was raised high enough to admit
of a view, the result became evident. All the English boats
but one had scattered, and were pulling swiftly, in different
directions, from the scene of slaughter. By taking this
course they diverted and divided the fire of their enemies;
an expedient of which it would have been happier had they
bethought them earlier. The remaining boat was a cutter
of the Terpsichore. It had received the weight of canister
from Ithuel's own gun, and of sixteen men it had contained
when it left the frigate's side, but two escaped. These fellows
had thrown themselves into the sea, and were picked
up by passing boats. The cutter itself came drifting slowly
in towards the rock, announcing the nature of its fearful
cargo, by the groans and cries that arose from out its bosom.
Raoul stopped the fire, equally from humanity and policy,
after a few discharges at the retreating boats; and the first
act of the battle closed.
The breathing time gave both parties a desirable opportunity
for ascertaining in what positions they were left. In
the whole, the French had lost the services of eleven men;
all, with the exception of Ithuel's four, in the ruin. The
loss of the English amounted to thirty-three, including several
officers. The master's-mate, who had commanded the
crippled cutter, lay over its stern, flat on his back, with no
less than five musket-balls through his chest. His passage
into another state of existence had been sudden as the flight
of the electric spark. Of his late companions several were
dead also, though most were still enduring the pain of fractured
bones and bruised nerves. The boat itself slowly
touched the rocks, raising fresh cries among the wounded,
falling under the ground-swell.
Raoul was too deliberate, and too much collected, not to
feel his advantage. Anxious to keep his means of further
defence in the best condition, he directed all the guns to
cease, and the damages to be repaired. Then he went with
a party towards the boat that had fallen into his hands.
To encumber himself with prisoners of any sort, in his
actual situation, would have been a capital mistake; but to
do this with wounded men, would have been an act of folly.
The boat had tourniquets and other similar appliances in it,
and he directed some of the French to use them on those
that wanted them most. He also supplied the parched lips
of the sufferers with water, when, conceiving that his duty
was performed, he gave an order to haul the boat on one
side, and to shove it forcibly out of the line of any coming
conflict.
“Halloo, Captain Rule!” called out Ithuel, “you are
wrong there. Let the boat lie where it is, and it will answer
a better turn than another breastwork. The English
will scarcely fire through their own wounded.”
The look that Raoul cast towards his auxiliary was fierce,
even indignant; but, disregarding the advice, he motioned
for his own men to obey the order he had already given
them. Then, as if mindful of Ithuel's importance, his late
timely succour, and the necessity of not offending him, he
walked to the side of the islet nearest to the felucca, and
spoke courteously and cheerfully to him whose advice he
had just treated with indifference, if not with disdain. This
was not hypocrisy, but a prudent adaptation of his means to
his circumstances.
“Bon — brave Etooelle,” he said, “your bags of bullets
were welcome friends, and they arrived at the right
moment.”
“Why, Captain Rule, in the Granite country we are
never wasteful of our means. You can always wait for the
white of Englishmen's eyes, in these affairs. They 're
spiteful d—ls, on the whull, and seem to be near-sighted
to a man. They came so clus' at Bunker Hill, our folks—”
“Bon—” repeated Raoul, feeling no wish to hear a thrice-told
tale gone through again, Bunker Hill invariably placing
only imagined that great victory a New-England triumph,
as in fact it was, but he was much disposed to encourage
the opinion that it was in a great measure “granite.”
“Bon,” interrupted Raoul — “Bunkair was good;—mais,
les Rochess aux Sirens is bettair. If you have more de
ces balles, load encore.”
“What think you of this, Captain Rule?” asked the
other, pointing up at a little vane that began to flutter at the
head of one of his masts. “Here is the west wind, and an
opportunity offers to be off. Let us take wit, and run!”
Raoul started, and gazed at the heavens, the vane, and
the surface of the sea; the latter beginning to show a
slightly ruffled surface. Then his eye wandered towards
Ghita. The girl had risen from her knees, and her eyes
followed his every movement. When they met his, with a
sweet, imploring smile, she pointed upward, as if beseeching
him to pay the debt of gratitude he owed to that dread
Being who had, as yet, borne him unharmed through the
fray. He understood her meaning, kissed his hand in
affectionate gallantry, and turned towards Ithuel, to pursue
the discourse.
“It is too soon,” he said. “We are impregnable here,
and the wind is still too light. An hour hence, and we will
all go together.”
Ithuel grumbled; but his commander heeded it not. The
judgment of the latter had decided right. The boats were
rallying within musket-shot, indifferent to the danger, and
it was evident the attack was to be renewed. To have
attempted to escape at such an instant, would have been
throwing away the great advantage of the ruins, and might
have endangered all, without benefiting any one.
In point of fact, Sir Frederick Dashwood had become
keenly alive to a sense of the disgrace he was likely to
incur, in the event of the ship's getting round, and robbing
him of the credit of capturing the lugger. The usually
apathetic nature of this young man was thoroughly aroused,
and, like all who are difficult to excite, he became respectable
when his energies were awakened. The boats were already
collected; all the disabled were put into one of them, and
ordered off to the ships; and with those that remained
that Cuffe had sent an expedition so strong-handed;
for, notwithstanding the loss, the three launches and the
cutters could still muster double the number of the French.
This time, Sir Frederick was willing to listen to counsel.
Winchester, McBean, Griffin, and Strand, united in advising
that the boats should separate, and make their assaults from
different points. This would prevent the possibility of a
recurrence of so concentrated a disaster as that which had
already befallen them. To the Scotchman, was assigned
the felucca; the Terpsichore's launch was to assail the
lugger; while the two cutters, and the heavier boat of the
Proserpine, were to dash in at the ruins. Sir Frederick still
remained in his own gig, to push for the point that might
seem to require his presence.
McBean was the first to fire on this occasion. He threw
a round-shot from his carronade into the felucca, aimed by
himself, and directed with care. It fell upon one of Ithuel's
carronades, broke into a dozen pieces, knocked down no less
than three men, besides injuring others less severely, and
actually drove the gun it struck off its slide into the felucca's
hold. This was a rough commencement, and the result
being seen by all hands, it greatly encouraged the assailants.
Three hearty English cheers followed, and Ithuel
was so far disconcerted as to fire the remaining gun, loaded
as before, with bullets, at least two minutes too soon. The
sea was thrown into a foam, but not a man in the boats was
hurt. Then the fire became general; gun after gun exploding;
the rattling of small-arms filling up the pauses. The
boats came on with steady, strong pulls of the oar, and this
too with an impunity that often happens, though difficult
to be explained. Several shot fell among the ruins, knocking
the stones about, and for a minute or two all the injury
was on one side. But Pintard and Ithuel felt the security
conferred by the rocks in their front, and each endeavoured
to give one effective discharge. Ithuel succeeded the best.
He repaid McBean in his own coin, sending a grist of bullets
into the bows of his launch, which admonished that prudent
officer of the necessity of sheering towards the islet of the
ruins. Pintard's assailant was brought up by the barrier in
front, and turned aside also. Then, in the midst of a cloud
of guns, all the English precipitated themselves in a body
on the principal post, and became the masters of the battery
in the twinkling of an eye.
| CHAPTER XIII. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet | |