 | CHAPTER I. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet |  |
1. CHAPTER I.
“Of Mantua.”
“Of Mantua, sir? — marry, God forbid!
And come to Padua, careless of your life?”
Taming of the Shrew.
During the momentous five minutes occupied in these
private movements, Raoul affected to be gaping about
in vulgar astonishment, examining the guns, rigging, ornaments
of the quarter-deck, &c.; though, in truth, nothing
that passed among those near him, escaped his vigilant
attention. He was uneasy at the signs of the times, and
now regretted his own temerity; but still he thought his
incognito must be impenetrable. Like most persons, who
fancy they speak a foreign language well, he was ignorant,
too, in how many little things he betrayed himself; the
Englishman, cæteris paribus, usually pronouncing the Italian
better than the Frenchman, on account of the greater affinity
between his native language and that of Italy, in what
relates to emphasis and sounds. Such was the state of mind
of our hero, then, as he got an intimation that the captain
of the ship wished to see him below. Raoul observed, as he
descended the ladder, to comply with what sounded very
much like an order, that he was followed by the two Elban
functionaries.
The cabin-lamp was trimmed, and the privateersman found
himself under a strong light, as soon as he had crossed the
near the table, where the vice-governatore and the podestâ
took their stations, also; giving the whole arrangement a
most uncomfortable air of investigation and justice. For an
instant, Raoul wished that it was a portion of the Holy Inquisition,
rather than the tribunal before which he now found
himself so unexpectedly arraigned.
“You must be cool,” said Griffin, as the other moved
slowly up to the table, maintaining the outward signs of
steadiness, but cursing, in his heart, the severe ordeal which
he felt he was undergoing; “do me the favour to put this
silk handkerchief about your neck.”
“S'nore, your eccellenza is pleased to joke; we men of
Capri think little of the nights, at this season of the year—
still, as it seems to be your wish, I will honour myself so
much.”
In that age, a black silk kerchief was the certain mark
of a military man. The old-fashioned stock had gone out,
with all but old-fashioned people, and the new-fashioned
substitute did not make its appearance until many years
later; the present usage, indeed, having come in from an
imitation of the military mania which pervaded Christendom
at the close of the last general war. Black around the neck,
properly relieved by the white of the linen, was then deemed
particularly military; and even in the ordinary dress, such
a peculiarity was as certain a sign, as the cockade, that the
wearer bore arms. Raoul knew this, and he felt he was
aiding in unmasking himself, by complying; but he thought
there might be greater danger, should he refuse to assume
the kerchief.
“Your eccellenza is making a prince, of a very humble
boatman,” he said, when his neck was fairly enveloped;
“and my wife will think some great general is coming,
when I enter the door.”
“To help the delusion, friend, wear this, also,” continued
Griffin, throwing the other one of his own undress uniform
coats, his stature and that of Raoul being very nearly the
same.
The true state of the case was now getting to be somewhat
unequivocal; nevertheless, as steadiness and compliance
were his only hopes, Raoul did as desired, and stood
uniform, while the nether remained à la lazzarone.
“What say you, now, vice-governatore,” resumed Griffin,
“here are lights, and the dress?”
“I say that this gentleman has done me the honour of
several visits, in my poor residence, at Porto Ferrajo,”
returned Andrea; “and that never has he been more welcome,
than he is at this moment. Signor Smees, you are a
great lover of masquerades, and make a carnival of the
whole year. I trust, your distinguished countryman, Sir
Cicero, will have it in his power to convince these brave
Inglese, that all is done in pure pleasantry, and without a
crime.”
“Messieurs,” said Raoul, stripping himself of his borrowed
plumes, “it is too late to feign, any longer. If I am
Raoul Yvard, as you say, I am certainly not le Feu-Follet.”
“Of course, you are aware, Monsieur,” observed Griffin,
in French, “that you are a prisoner to His Britannic Majesty?”
“Sa Majesté Britannique has not made a conquest equal
to his success at the Nile,” returned Raoul, ironically;
“but he has me in his hands. It is not the first time that I
have had the honour to be a prisoner of war, and that, too,
in one of his own ships.”
“You are not to suppose that such will be your situation,
now, Monsieur Yvard. We arrest you in a totally different
character.”
“Not as a friend, I trust, Monsieur; for, I protest, I have
not the smallest claim to the character; as witness a short
interview off Porto Ferrajo, and an interesting incident at
the mouth of the Golo.”
“Your taunts may be spared, sir; fortune favoured you,
then, we allow; but, now, we arrest you as a spy.”
“Espion!” repeated Raoul, starting; “that is an office
I never contemplated, Monsieur, on coming on board your
ship. You will do me the justice to acknowledge, that it
was only at your own invitation, that I came on deck.
'T would be an infamy to pretend differently!”
“We will endure the infamy of our acts, Monsieur Yvard.
No one accuses you of having come on board the Proserpine
as a spy; but, when an enemy is found rowing about our
like yours, it must be a very scrupulous conscience,
that hesitates to pronounce him a spy, and liable to the
punishment of one.”
This was so true, that the unfortunate young man now
felt the exceeding delicacy of his situation. In coming into
the bay, he had certainly been led by no other intention than
to find Ghita; and yet he could not but confess, to himself,
that he should not have hesitated about profiting, in his public
character, by any information incidentally obtained. He
had subjected himself to the severest penalties of military
law, by yielding to his passion for Ghita; and he could not
discover a single available excuse, to plead in mitigation.
“What does the poor devil say, Griffin,” asked Cuffe,
who felt regret that so brave an enemy should be reduced to
so desperate a strait, notwithstanding his determined hostility
to all Frenchmen; “do not bear too hard upon him, at the
first go off. Has he any excuse for his disguise?”
“The usual apology, no doubt, sir—a desire to serve his
one and undivided republic! If we should believe all such
chaps tell us, Captain Cuffe, we might go home, and send
deputies to the National Convention; if, indeed, they would
do us the favour to admit them to seats.”
“Gentlemen,” said Raoul, in English, “there is no
longer any occasion for an interpreter between us; I speak
your language sufficiently well to make myself understood.”
“I am sorry for your situation, Mr. Yvard,” said Cuffe,
“and wish, with all my heart, you had fallen into our hands
in open battle, instead of in this irregular way.”
“In which case, Monsieur le Capitaine, le Feu-Follet
would have been in your power, also!” returned Raoul,
smiling ironically; “but, messieurs, words are idle, now; I
am your prisoner, and must take my chance with you.
There is no necessity, however, for causing others to suffer
for my indiscretion. I shall esteem it a favour, messieurs, if
you will let the good people, in the boat alongside, pull
ashore, without molestation. It is getting late, and we must,
now, be nearly, or quite abeam of the place where they wish
to land; which is the marina grande of Sorrento.”
“Do you wish us to understand that your companions are
not French, Monsieur Yvard?”
“Oui, Monsieur le Capitaine; there is not a Frenchman
among them, I give you my parole d'honneur.”
“Of that fact, it may be well to satisfy ourselves, by an
examination, Captain Cuffe,” put in Griffin, drily.
“I have sent up to beg Mr. Winchester would get these
people on board—”
“There is a young woman, in the boat, who is unaccustomed
to entering ships,” interrupted Raoul, hastily, “and
I implore your tenderness, in her behalf. Let the men come
on board, if you think it necessary; but the signorina can
never climb this frigate's sides!”
“We will see to that; more especially, Monsieur Yvard,
as you appear to be so much interested in the lady's comfort.
At present, it will be my duty to put you under a sentry's
charge; and that it may be done in a way the least offensive
to yourself, your prison, for the night at least, shall be
this cabin. Mr. Griffin, give orders to the marine officer,
accordingly.”
In a few minutes, a soldier was introduced into the forward
cabin, and Raoul was regularly placed under his
charge. Not till then did the officers return to the quarterdeck.
All this time, Ithuel, and his companions in the yawl,
were left to their own reflections, which were anything but
agreeable. Matters had been conducted so quietly, in-board,
however, that they possessed no clue to what had actually
occurred; though Ghita, in particular, was full of forebodings
and apprehensions. The frigate had towed them along at a
rate, which, as Raoul had said, had brought them quite
abreast of their landing, and within a league of it; and yet
she showed no signs of an intention to abate her speed, nor
did any one appear at the gangway, to speak to them. At
length a hoarse call was heard on deck, and the ship began
to shorten sail. Her fore-course was hauled up, and the
spanker was brailed; then the royals were clewed up, and
furled; the top-gallant-sails followed; and presently the
Proserpine was reduced to her three topsails and jib. All
this, finished just as Cuffe reappeared on deck, was done by
the watch, and in about five minutes. As soon as sail was
thus taken in, the helm was put to port, the ship came up to
the wind, on the starboard tack, and the main-topsail was
laid to the mast, bringing the yawl under her lee, and close
than a seaman ran lightly down the vessel's side, and
entered the yawl. After examining forward and aft, he
called out, “all right, sir,” and shoved the boat off to a
little distance from the frigate. The yard and stay-tackles
fell, at the next instant, were overhauled down, and hooked
by the man in the boat. The boatswain's mate, in the gangway,
piped, “haul-taut,” and the slack of the tackle was
pulled in; then followed a long, steady blow of the call,
piping, “sway-away,” and the boat, with all in her, rose
from the water, and ascended as high as the hammock-cloths
in the waist, when the stay-tackles took the strain,
the yard-tackles “eased-off,” and the boat was landed in the
waist of the ship, as gingerly as if it were made of glass,
and as steadily as if it had no more weight than a seaman's
hammock. Ghita uttered a faint scream, when she found
herself rising into the air, and then she hid her face, awaiting
the result with dread. As for Carlo Giuntotardi, the
movement aroused him a little from his customary apathy,
and that was all; whereas, Ithuel bethought him seriously
of leaping into the water, and striking out for the land. He
could swim a league, he thought; but there was the certainty
of being followed by boats, and overtaken; a consideration
that effectually curbed his impatience. It is not easy to
describe the sensation with which this man found himself,
once more, standing on the deck of his old prison, with the
additional danger of being detected and treated as a deserter.
It may sound revolting, at the present day, to suppose a case
in which a foreigner was thrown by violence, into the military
service of a nation, and then was put in jeopardy of his life,
because he used a privilege of nature, to fly from such persecution,
as soon as circumstances placed the means in his
power. The last age, however, witnessed many scenes of
similar wrongs; and, it is to be feared, in despite of all
the mawkish philanthropy, and unmeaning professions of
eternal peace, that it is now the fashion to array against the
experience of mankind, that the next age will present their
parallels, unless the good sense of this nation infuse into the
federal legislative bodies juster notions of policy, more extended
views of their own duties, and more accurate opinions
of the conditions of the several communities of Christendom,
months. In a word, the subject of all these tribulations
felt an intimate conviction, that his rights, legal and moral,
would avail him but little, on the present occasion. Then a
man never does wrong, even in defence of that which is
inherently his due, without the secret consciousness that
“evil may not be done, that good may come of it;” and Ithuel
had a certain inward monitor to remind him, that, much as
he had in the way of justifiable complaint, he had carried
the war into the enemy's country.
The boat had no sooner touched the deck, than its cargo
was handed out by the boatswain, who, keeping no watch,
had not yet turned in; and who was almost as important a
functionary, on board the Proserpine, as was Vito Viti, in
the town of Porto Ferrajo. He examined each individual,
as he or she landed, as he called it; Ghita attracting so
much of his attention, as completely to eclipse her companions.
The soft air and manner of the girl appeared so winning,
indeed, by the light of the moon, which now fell clear
upon the decks, that all near her, including the officers,
submitted to very much the same influence.
“So, so, Master Yvard,” said Cuffe, in English, “if you
do come into an enemy's camp, incog., it is in reasonably
good company. That girl is Italian, Winchester; and she
even seems modest!”
“Little Ghita!” exclaimed Vito Viti, “as I hope, one
day, to lie in the bosom of Father Abraham! Belissima
Ghita, what has brought thee here, and in such evil company?”
Ghita was in tears; but, uncertain how far Raoul was
committed, she struggled for self-command, and did succeed
in suppressing emotions that might, otherwise, have rendered
his situation more dangerous. Drying her eyes, she curtsied
to the vice-governatore and the podestâ, and then answered
the question.
“Signori,” she said, “it is a relief to meet countrymen
and old acquaintances, on board this strange ship; and I look
to you for protection. I do not call it strange, or evil company,
for an orphan niece to be on the water with her uncle,
and one that has ever been a father to her.”
“Ah—sure enough, vice-governatore, this is Carlo Giuntotardi,
the saints, even on earth, that he seldom speaks to a sinner.
But thou knowest, little Ghita, that one of thy watermen is
no less a person than Raoul Yvard, the wickedest corsair
that sails out of France, and the pest and persecution of the
whole Italian coast? Did the church condescend to notice
such an unbelieving republican, it would be to command all
its faithful to unite in their prayers for his destruction.”
“Raoul Yvard!” repeated Ghita, with sufficient astonishment
in her manner to satisfy any reasonable amount of
wonder, on the part of the other. “Are you certain, Signor
Podestâ, of the truth of what you say?”
“As certain as the confession of the party, himself, can
make us.”
“Confession, Signore!”
“Si, bella Ghita; confession—your boatman—your man
of Capri—your lazzarone, confesses himself to be neither
more nor less than the commander of that worker of iniquity,
le Feu-Follet.”
“Does le Feu-Follet do more than other cruisers of the
enemy?”—but Ghita felt she was getting to be indiscreet, and
she ceased.
“I do believe, Winchester,” said Cuffe, “that this is the
very girl, and yonder is the very old man, who came into
Nelson's cabin, to-day, with something to say about the
poor prince who was executed this afternoon!”
“What could such people have in common with the unfortunate
Caraccioli!”
“Sure enough—yet, these are the people. The Queen
of the Fleet — our Lady Admiraless, had it all to herself;
and what passed between them, in Italian, I know no more
than if it had been in Greek. She never told me, you may
rest assured; and, from the look of her eye, I question a
good deal if she ever told Nelson.”
“I wish to heaven his lordship would cut adrift from his
moorings alongside of that craft, Captain Cuffe. I do assure
you, sir, the fleet begins to talk loudly on the subject;—was
it any other man, there 'd be the devil to pay about it—but,
we can all stand a good deal from Nelson and Bronté.”
“Well—well—let every man father his own children:
you ought to be quiet, Winchester, for he asked very kindly
some knick-knack or other, for the stomach, but I told him
you were all a-tanto again, and at duty. What between
his head, and his arm, and his eye, he 's got to be such a
hulk, himself, that he thinks every wounded man a sort of
a relation. I should not complain, however, if the smallpox
could lay hold of that beauty.”
“This has been a bad day's work, for England, depend
on it, Captain Cuffe!”
“Well, if it has, St. Vincent, and the Nile, were good
days' works; and we 'll let one balance the other. Inquire
of this young woman, Mr. Griffin, if I had not the pleasure
of seeing her, to-day, on board the Foudroyant?”
The question was put, as desired, and Ghita quietly, but
unhesitatingly, answered in the affirmative.
“Then ask her to explain how she happened to fall into
the company of Raoul Yvard?”
“Signori,” said Ghita, naturally, for she had nothing to
conceal on this point, “we live on Monte Argentaro, where
my uncle is the keeper of the Prince's towers. You know,
we have much to fear from the barbarians along all that
coast; and last season, when the peace with France kept
the Inglesi at a distance—I know not how it is, signori, but
they say, the barbarians are always hardest on the enemies
of Inghilterra—but, the past season a boat from a rover had
seized upon my uncle and myself, and were carrying us off
into captivity, when a Frenchman, and his lugger, rescued us.
From that time we became friends; and our friend has often
stopped near our towers, to visit us. To-day, we found him
in a boat, by the side of the English admiral's ship; and, as
an old acquaintance, he undertook to bring us to the Sorrentine
shore, where we are, at present, staying with my
mother's sister.”
This was told so naturally, as to carry with it the conviction
of its truth; and, when Griffin had translated it, he did
not fail to assure his superior that he would pledge himself
for the accuracy of the statement.
“Ay, you young luffs, Griffin, are never backward with
your vows for or to pretty girls,” answered Cuffe. “The
girl does seem honest, however; and, what is more extraordinary,
for the company she is in, she seems modest, too.
ourselves of the pleasure of her company immediately. She
shall have the larboard state-room in my cabin, until morning,
where she and her uncle may live a great deal more
comfortably than in one of their out-of-door Neapolitan
rookeries. Monte Argentaro, ha! — That 's a bluff just beyond
the Roman coast, and it is famously besprinkled with
towers — half a dozen of them, at least, within as many
miles, and who knows but this Jack-o'-Lantern may be
extinguished some fine morning, should we fail of laying
our hands on it, now?”
“We can hardly fail of the last, Captain Cuffe, having
her commander in our possession.”
Orders were then given to dispose of the prisoners, leaving
the boat on deck. Raoul was sent below, and put in
a canvass state-room, the arms having been removed, even to
the razors, and a sentinel placed at the door. Escape from
such a situation was impossible; and as for self-violence,
when that point was considered, Cuffe had coolly remarked
— “Poor devil; hanged he must be, and if he should be his
own executioner, it will save us the discomfort of having a
scene on board. I suppose Nelson will order him to our
fore-yard-arm, as a jewel-block. I don't see, why he cannot
use a Neapolitan frigate, for this job, too; they are good
for nothing else.”
“I rather think, Captain Cuffe, he will swing on board
his own lugger, should we succeed in catching her,” answered
the lieutenant.
“By George, you 're right, Griffin; and that 's another
inducement for looking out sharp for the Few-Folly. How
much better it would have been, had we burnt them all, in
a bunch, off the Golo!”
Then followed the arrangement by which the prisoner
was put into the gun-room, as mentioned. Ghita and her
uncle were shown into the empty cabin state-room, and
mattresses were provided on which they might repose.
Then the captain and his two guests retired to the aftercabin,
whither Griffin was invited to accompany them.
Here the captain recollected that there had been a fourth
individual in the boat, and he sent an order on deck for him
to come down for examination. Ithuel observing the attention
stolen back towards his own yawl, of which he had taken
possession, stretching himself out at length, with the apparent
design to sleep, but, in reality, to keep himself “out of
mind,” by remaining “out of sight;” reserving, in petto, an
intention to jump overboard, should the ship go near enough
to the land to give him a chance for his life, after the moon
set. In this situation he was found, aroused from his lair,
and led into the cabin.
It has been mentioned that Ithuel would not consent to
trust himself near the Proserpine, without disguising his
person. Raoul being well provided with all the materials
for a masquerade, this had been effected by putting a black
curling wig over his own lank, sandy hair, colouring his
whiskers and eye-brows, and trusting the remainder to the
transformation which might be produced by the dress, or
rather undress, of a Neapolitan waterman. The greatest
obstacle to this arrangement had been a certain queue,
which Ithuel habitually wore in a cured eel-skin that he
had brought with him from America, eight years before, and
both of which, “queue and eel-skin,” he cherished as relics
of better days. Once a week this queue was unbound and
combed, but all the remainder of its existence it continued in
a solid mass quite two feet in length, being as hard, and
about as thick as a rope an inch in diameter. Now, the
queue had undergone its hebdomadal combing just an hour
before Raoul announced his intention to proceed to Naples
in the yawl, and it would have been innovating on the only
thing that Ithuel treated with reverence, to undo the work
until another week had completed its round. The queue,
therefore, was disposed of, under the wig, in the best manner
that its shape and solidity would allow.
Ithuel was left in the fore-cabin, and his presence was
announced to Cuffe.
“It's no doubt some poor devil belonging to the Few-Folly's
crew,” observed the English captain, in a rather
compassionate manner, “and we can hardly think of stringing
him up, most probably for obeying an order. That would
never do, Griffin; so we 'll just step out and overhaul his
log, in French, and send him off to England to a prisonship,
by the first return vessel.”
As this was said, the four in the after-cabin left it together,
and stood before this new prisoner. Of course Ithuel
understood all that was said in English, while the very idea
of being catechised in French threw him into a cold sweat.
In this strait, the idea suddenly crossed his mind, that his
greatest security would be in feigning dumbness.
“Ecoutez, mon ami,” commenced Griffin, in very respectable
English-French, “you are to tell me nothing but
the truth, and it may be all the better for you. You belong
to the Feu-Follet, of course?”
Ithuel shook his head in strong disgust, and endeavoured
to make a sound that he intended to represent a dumb man
struggling to utter the word “Napoli.”
“What is the fellow after, Griffin?” said Cuffe. “Can
it be he doesn't understand French! Try him a touch in
Italian, and let us see what he will say to that.”
Griffin repeated very much what he had said before,
merely changing the language, and received the same gagging
sounds for an answer. The gentlemen looked at each
other, as much as to express their surprise. But, unluckily
for Ithuel's plan, he had brought with him from the granite
state, a certain propensity to pass all the modulations of his
voice through his nose; and the effort to make a suppressed
sound brought that member more than usually into requisition,
thereby producing a certain disagreeable combination
that destroyed everything like music that commonly characterizes
the Italian words. Now, Andrea had been struck
with this peculiarity about the tones of the American's voice,
in the interview at Benedetta's wine-house; and the whole
connection between Raoul and this singular person being
associated in his mind, the truth flashed on him, as it might
be, at a glance. His previous success that night had emboldened
the worthy vice-governatore, and, without any
remark, he walked steadily up to Ithuel, removed the wig,
and permitted the eel-skin queue to resume its natural position
down the back of its owner.
“Ha! — What, veechy,” exclaimed Cuffe, laughing —
“you unearth them like so many foxes, to-night. Now,
Griffin, hang me if I do not think I 've seen that chap before!
Isn't he the very man we found at the wheel of la
Voltigeuse, when we boarded her?”
“Lord bless me, Captain Cuffe — no sir. This fellow is
as long as two of that chap—and yet I know the face, too—
I wish you 'd let me send for one of the young gentlemen,
sir; they 're worth all the rest of the ship at remembering
faces.”
The permission was given, and the cabin steward was
sent on deck to desire Mr. Roller, one of the oldest midshipmen,
and who was known to have the watch, to come
below.
“Look at this fellow, Mr. Roller,” said Griffin, as soon
as the youngster had taken his place in the group, “and
tell us if you can make anything of him?”
“It 's the lazy-rony, sir, we hoisted in, a bit ago, when
we struck the boat on deck.”
“Ay, no doubt of that — but we think we have seen his
face before; — can you make that out.”
Roller now walked round the immovable subject of all
these remarks; and he, too, began to think the singular-looking
object was no stranger to him. As soon, however,
as he got a sight of the queue, he struck Ithuel a smart slap
on the shoulder, and exclaimed—
“You 're welcome back, my lad; I hope you 'll find your
berth aloft, as much to your mind as it used to be. This
is Bolt, Captain Cuffe, the fore-top-man, who ran from us
when last in England, was caught and put in a guard-ship,
from which they sent us word he stole a boat, and got off
with two or three French prisoners, who happened to be
there at the moment, on some inquiry or other. Don't you
remember it all, Mr. Griffin—you may remember the fellow
pretended to be an American.”
Ithuel was now completely exposed, and he at once perceived
that his wisest way was to submit. Cuffe's countenance
darkened, for he regarded a deserter with a species
of professional horror, and the impresed deserter to whose
services England had no other right than that of might,
with an additional degree of resentment, that was very
fairly proportioned to the inward consciousness he felt that
a great wrong was done in detaining the man at all. There
is nothing extraordinary in these feelings; a very common
resource, under such circumstances, being to imagine delinquencies
that justify us to ourselves, by endeavouring to
merits the infliction.
“Do you dare to deny what this young gentleman has
just said, sirrah?” demanded the captain. “I now remember
you, myself; you are Bolt, the fore-top-man, that ran
at Plymouth.”
“You 'd 'a run, too, Captain Cuffe, had you been in my
place, had the ship been at Jericho.”
“Enough — no impudence, sir. Send for the master-at-arms,
Mr. Griffin, and have the fellow ironed: to-morrow
we 'll look into the affair.”
These orders were obeyed, and Ithuel was removed to the
place where the master-at-arms usually reigns on board
ship. Cuffe now gave the lieutenant his congé, and then
withdrew to the inner-cabin, to prepare a despatch for the
rear-admiral. He was near an hour writing a letter to his
mind, but finally succeeded. Its purport was as follows.
He reported the capture of Raoul, explaining the mode, and
the circumstances under which that celebrated privateersman
had fallen into his hands. He then asked for instructions
as to the manner in which he was to dispose of his
prisoner. Having communicated this important fact, he
ventured some suggestions as to the probable vicinity of the
lugger, and the hopes he entertained of being able to find
out her precise situation, through the agency of Bolt, whose
condition he also explained, hinting at the same time the
expediency of bringing both delinquents to as speedy trials
as possible, as the most certain manner of using their apprehensions
in seizing le Feu-Follet. The letter concluded
with an earnest request that another frigate, which was
mentioned, her captain being junior to Cuffe, and a fast-sailing
sloop that was lying off Naples, might be sent down to
assist him in “heading off” the lugger, as he feared the
latter was too swift to be overtaken by the Prosperpine alone,
more especially in the light winds which prevailed.
When this letter was written, addressed and sealed, Cuffe
went on deck, again. It was now nine o'clock, or two bells,
and Winchester had the quarter-deck nearly to himself. All
was as tranquil and calm on the deck of that fine frigate,
as a moonlight night, a drowsy watch, a light wind, and
smooth water could render things, in a bay like that of Naples.
but things in that direction looked misty and mysterious,
though Capri loomed up, dark and grand, a few miles to-leeward,
and Ischia was visible, a confused but distant pile
on the lee-bow. An order from Cuffe, however, set everybody
in motion. Yard and stay-tackles were overhauled,
and hooked on, the boatswain's-mate piped the orders, and
the first-cutter was hoisted over the waist-cloths, and lowered
into the water. “Away, there, you first-cutters,” had
been hoarsely called on the berth-deck, and the crew were
ready to enter the boat, by the time the latter was lowered.
The masts were stepped, Roller appeared, in a pee-jacket,
to guard against the night air, and Cuffe gave him his instructions.
“Set your sails, and stretch over under the north shore,
Mr. Roller,” said the captain, who stood in the lee-gangway,
to give a last word. “You will fetch in about Queen Joan's
Palace. There, you had better take to your oars, and pull
up along the land. Remember, sir, to join us by the first
ship that comes out; and, if none is sent, to come down with
the morning breeze, in the boat.”
Roller gave the customary “ay, ay, sir;” the boat shoved
off; as soon as from under the lee of the ship, the luggs
were set, and half an hour later, the night had swallowed
up her form. Cuffe remained an hour longer, walking the
deck with his first-lieutenant, and then, satisfied that the
night would prove propitious, he went below, leaving orders
to keep the ship lying-to, until morning.
As for Roller, he pulled alongside of the Foudroyant, just
as the bells of the fleet were striking eight, or at midnight.
Nelson was still up, writing in his cabin. The despatch
was delivered, and then the secretary of the admiral, with
a clerk or two, were called from their berths, for nothing
lagged that this active-minded man had in charge. Orders
were written, copied, signed, and sent to different ships, by
two o'clock, in order that the morning breeze might not be
lost; and then, and not till then, did the employes think of
rest.
Roller left the flag-ship at two, having eaten a hearty supper
in Nelson's own cabin, and repaired on board the Terpsichore,
a smart little frigate of thirty-two guns, twelve-pounders,
Two hours later, this ship, in company with another still
smaller, the Ringdove, 18, left her anchorage, under a cloud
of canvass, and stood down the bay, carrying studding-sails
on both sides, with a light wind at north-west, heading towards
Capri.
| CHAPTER I. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet | |