University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

Towards midnight the gale before which
the wreck of the line-of-battle ship had been
driving for so many hours, now in the direction
of the north sea, now back again upon
her former course, began to lull. The spray
ceased longer to dash over the stern and fall
upon the deck where the young prisoner and
the maiden were sheltered, and the ship rolled
less heavily, as the waves gradually sunk
to repose. At one o'clock in the morning the
hurricane had terminated and Henry with
pleasure informed his companion that the
clouds were breaking in the north-west, and
that their chances of safety were now secure.

With deep interest they now watched the
clearing away of the approaching clouds, and
as the heavens became lighter their hopes
brightened. While they were looking abroad
upon the sea which now heaved and broke
into waves which momently grew less in
size; the full moon suddenly broke through
the dark masses of clouds above their heads,
and shone brightly down upon the sea. Its
bright beams continued to shine for a moment
only, when they were withdrawn; but it was
the smile of hope to their hearts and they
drew from it an omen for their safety but alas,
not to prove so to both of them!'

At length the storm cleared away and the
moon ruled in the heavens' and lighted up tke
sparkling sea with a brightness that seemed
like that of noon-day, contrasted with the late
gloom and horror that prevailed over sky and
ocean.

`Look hither, Madeline,' said the young
man who had taken a stand upon a gun upon
the quarter-ceck which overlooked the bulwarks;
`there is land and from the direction
of it, it is France; but whether south or east
of Calais, I cannot tell. It is not more than
a league distant. How fortunate that we were
not driven upon it in the midst of the gale!
We should inevitably have perished.'

`What bright light like a rising star is that
so near the sea?' asked the young girl.

`It is a light-house. Ah there is another to
the east. I know these lights. We are near
Calais; the centre one is its harbor light.'

`It is not far.'

`Not five miles. But we have no chance
of reaching that port unless taken off by some
boat or vessel. I find the ship is drifting
shorewards very rapidly, and there is some
danger yet from breakers. If she should drift

with this heavy landward roll upon a rocky
beach the ship would certainly go to pieces.
She is very much strained in her timbeas and
I find on just sounding the well that she has
five feet of water in her hold. She may founder
ere we reach the shore, or go to pieces on
striking it. I acquaint you, dear Madeline
of these dangers that you may nerve your
mind to meet them.'

`I thank you Henri; but I have little hopes
of escaping with life. I feel my heart heavy
with foreboding, and all my hope which in
the midst of the storm buoyed me up has died
within my bosom. We shall never be saved.'

`This is superstition, dearest, and you should
not let such feelings fill your mind at such a
time, when all the energies of your soul are
called for. Every man who has been saved
from danger, has saved himself by the combined
exercise of hope and action. See how
rapidly the ship drifts. The outlines of the
heights can be distinctly seen. See to the
south there is vissible the towers of some
building.'

`It is, I think, the same chateau—yes it is
that was abreast of us when the lightning
struck the ship. Yes, there are the faint towers
of Calais to the east. Strange that the
storm should have driven us so wildly away
from the spot and then left us here again.'

`Yes, I can see Calais distinctly with the
moonlight reflected from its turrets. There
are lights moving in yonder chateau. Perhaps
your father may have been saved and is now
there.'

`No, no! Some painful emotion tells me
that he has perished. The same sensation
forewarns me of my own death. Henri, dear
Henri, I shall never tread yonder shore.'

`Do not give way to such fancies,' answered
the young officer, tenderly embracing her.
`We are now within two-thirds of a mile
drifting towards a rocky headland not far from
the base of the chateau. I will now fire the
upper deck guns at brief intervals as a signal
for succor. A boat can live, the water is so
smooth between these headlands, and if they
put off from the shore before we strike, we
shall be saved.'

`And if we strike?'

`We shall strike very heavily and I fear go
to pieces. In this alternative I must save
your life as you have done mine.'

The maiden was silent and the young officer
saw her clasp her hands in prayer as he
left her to get a match and powder for priming
the guns he intended to fire to bring aid.
There was, indeed, most imminent hazard in
remaining on board the wreck until she
struck; for there was a heavy landward roll
on which she went surging and laboring now
and then pitching violently, and threatening
each moment to founder. The young sailor
feared either alternative, and began to feel as
the crisis approached, deeply solicitous for the
safety of the life of one who was so dear to
him. These two youthful persons partners in
such a peril, were not only lovers but were
betrothed. Henry Monteith was the son of a
Scotish gentleman of fortune who had resided
long in France, having purchased an estate
adjoining that of Captain Navarre, the commander
of the line-of-battle ship Le Menerve.
His son was an officer in the British Navy and
during a period of amnesty, visited his father.

He there accidentally beheld Madeline Navarre,
and found means to become acquainted
with her, though secretly, for Captain Navarre
not only secretly had a singular dislike
from some cause or other to Scotchmen, but
he had managed to quarrel with his neighbor
about certain land-marks. Therefore, Henry
Monteith who very soon won the affections of
the lovely Madeline, had to keep his love
secret from her father till such time as he
could claim her for his own, which he resolved
to do when he should get a first lieutenancy,
he being then a third lieutenant. Thus
their true loves run smoothly. Henry making
two cruises and returning at the end of each
to renew his vows of affection. At length
war was declared against France by England,
and Admiral D'Estaing was ordered with a
fleet to America, to help the colonies to
achieve their independence. The Captain of
Le Minerve received his orders, and informed
his daughter that he should take her with
him, hinting at the same time his suspicions
of Henry Monteith. Madeline had nothing
to do but silently acquiesce and then secretly
to send word to her lover, who was at his
father's, who had the same day received orders
from the French Government to retire
into the interior. This intelligence filled the
young suitor with grief, while it inspired him
to action.

He had a private interview with her and
was made happy by her consent to fly with
him the next day to the altar, leaving her
father and all else for his sake. The hour
was appointed for the flight, and Henry made
his appearance at the mansion of his lady-love
to receive her. It was deserted and shut
up and to an inquiry put to an old servitor
who was in charge, he was told that Captain
Navarre and his daughter had gone on board
the line of battle ship le Minerve the evening
before, and that she was to sail the next morning.'

`This is sudden,' said the surprised and
distressed young man on hearing this astounding
intelligence.

`Yes;' answered the old servitor dryly,
`but the captain got wind of some Englishman
lurking about here to run off with his
daughter, and so he thought he'd take her on
board, as the safest place.'

`Not if I had a good British frigate to lay
alongside of her,' thought the chagrined lover,
turning away from the old man who, from
his demeanor he believed knew both himself
and his object.

Henry Montieth was not a man, however,
to be defeated by obstacles in the pursuit of
an end so dear to his heart as that he had in
view. He formed his plan and proceeded to
put it into execution. Purchasing the hat,
coat and sword of a boarding officer, which
he put on over his own undress uniform, he
walked down to the quay and boldly calling

for a custom house boat he leaped into it and
bade the oarsmen pull him on board the Minerve.
The men obeyed without a word and
rapidly the barge approached the line of battle
ship, which lay off at anchor a mile and a
half from the city in full sight of the quay.
Pleased at the success thus far of his exceedingly
bold and skillful step the young man
encouraged the rowers, till at length they
came near the Minerve and were hailed from
her forecastle.

`Custom House boat, with a message to
Captain Navarre,' returned the young man.

`Pull away men, and bring me without delay
alongside the gang-way.'

A rope was thrown him, and quitting his
boat with the order for his men to lay off on
their oars, he soon stood upon the ship's deck.
A midshipman received him and conducted
him to the state room where he beheld Captain
Navarre seated writing.

`An officer of the customs with a message,
sir,' said the midshipman bowing and then
stepping aside for Henry to advance.

`Well, sir—deliver it. I am getting ready
to sail and am occupied each minute,' said the
the captain without looking up, though our
young hero's face was unknown to him.

`A schooner has just got under way in the
upper part and as some suspicions are attached
to her the captain of the port would esteem
it a favor if you would bring her too and not
let her put to sea. She is beyond the range
of any of the port guns.'

`This is a singular request to make of the
captain of one of his Majesty's line of battle
ships,' answered Captain Navarre looking at
the speaker. `Where are his own armed
schooners to look after such suspicious craft?'

`Put to sea this morning in chase of smugglers.'

`Very well, I will give orders. What is
her name?'

`The Madeline.'

`Eh! Why that's the name of my daughter.
Do you hear that, child,' he called towards
an adjoining state-room; `some pirate or
smuggler has named his vessel after you, the
scoundrel.'

`Sir,' answered the young lady who having
heard her name repeated by Monteith in his
own tone (for this beloved name had been purposely
given by him that he might speak it to
reach her ear,) and half-doubting, half-believing
his presence, she came bounding forth
from her room. Her eyes instantly met his
and recognized him. Her color fled and sudden
trembling seized upon her. He gave her
a look of caution and intelligence and she recovered
herself before her father discovered
any thing to arouse suspicion.

`I said,' repeated Captain Navarre, `that
this officer has been sent in behalf of the Customs
to request my services in stopping a vessel
which bears the name of Madeline. You
heard him for he called the name loud enough.'

`Yes, sir.'

`I'll stop the vessel and blow her out of water
for daring to take your name. Tell the
captain of the port so, sir.'

`Yes sir,' answered the young man who had
interchanged several glances of hope and encouragement
with Madeline, who each moment
trembled lest he should be detected.
`That is your daughter, sir.'

`Yes, what then?' gruffly answered the captain,
looking at the speaker with a scowl.

`I am glad to have found her, sir.'

`Found her, sir? What do yo mean, sir.
She has not been lost, though it's not her own
fault she wasn't.'

`I meant to say, sir, that I discover in her
the owner of this bracelet which a lady dropped
yesterday evening on the quay. I was so
fortunate as to pick it up, and before I
could follow her to inform her of her loss and
return it she had disappeared. I now recognize
this young lady to be the loser. Here is
the bracelet, Mademoiselle.

`You are an honest person. You must have
lost it coming down to embark, Madeline.
Strange you have not missed it. It is my
daughter's bracelet, I recognize it. What reward
shall I give you?'

`None other sir, than the honor of reclasping
it upon the fair wrist to which it belongs.'

`Let him, girl,' answered the captain laughing,
seeing that she turned pale and retreated.'
`It is a reward easily paid.'

`Permit me this honor, lady,' said Henry,
approaching her where she had arrested her
retreat, (shall we say designedly?) at some
distance to the right of her father and near
her own state-room door. He knelt with his
back to the captain who, taking up his papers
again, did not watch them, and fervently pressing
his lips to her hand, he added in a quick
low tone,

`I was at my appointment and learned you
had been removed hither and in this disguise
have sought you.'

`Oh, Henri, you will be lost. How could
you be so rash! My father will suspect who
you are? Fly!'

`Could I think of myself! To-night I will
have a boat beneath the state-room window.
Have a rope let down by which I can ascend
and I will draw up a firm ladder made of wooden
cross pieces I shall provide, by which you
can firmly and easily descend with my assistance
into the boat.'

`We shall be discovered and then—`Oh, no,
no! This place is too wild. I could never
reach your boat from the lofty windows at the
stern. No—let me go with my father—and
save yourself. We shall meet again in America.'

`I am resolved to secure your escape, dearest.
We are drawing the attention of your
father. I will be at the stern to-night when
you hear four bells struck. Your clasp has
been bent and comes together with difficulty,
lady,' he said in a loud tone. `I did not think
to make this use of your gift, dear Madeline,'
he added smiling. `Depend on me and be
true!'

`You are long, sir officer,' said the Captain
who for a moment had forgotten them, and
now turned round to see what was the reason

of the officer's delay.

`Yes sir; it clasped with some difficulty.
The lady is very grateful, sir.'

`No doubt, no doubt; women think much
of such baubles. You have a foreign accent
to your French!' he added, eying him sharply.

`Yes. I was educated partly by an English
tutor, and he spoiled my vernacular.'

`Humph! The English spoil everything.
If it had been a Scotchman he would have
spoiled you altogether.'

`Yes, sir. You will bring the schooner
to.'

`Aye. The Madeline, you say. The scoundrel!
I'll have him under my lee, and her
captain swung at my ship's yard-arm, if I find
any wrong in him. I detest suspicious characters.'

`So do I, sir.'

`I hate spies and smugglers and Scotchmen.'

`You have reason to, sir.'

`Now go on shore and tell the Post-Captain
I shall certainly oblige him, and give him my
respects.

`Yes sir.'

Thus replying, our successful lover quit the
state cabin of the Minerva, leaving her Captain
busy at his desk as he found him, but
with an uneasy suspicion of something wrong,
he knew not how or where, but he connected
it vaguely with the schooner, which he began
to believe had something to do with his
daughter's elopement, if it did not actually
contain the young Scotch lover himself.

`Yes, he said throwing down his pen, I see
into the whole of it. I have got my suspicions
on the right scent, which something in the
words of this custom house officer roused.—
Yes, the schooner that he says has suspicious
movements, has got underweigh with some
object in view, with which my daughter is
concerned. That accounts for her strange
movements. I'll bet my head that Scotchman
has hired her and is lying in wait to run
off with my daughter, or she with him. I see
it. It is a good fortune the Port Captain
should have sent to me. I shall have him right
in my hands! Oh, the villain. Pierre!'

`Monsieur,' answered his servant.

`Say to the first Lieutenant I wish to see
him.'

The officer sent for, made his appearance in
the state cabin.

`Who has charge of the deck?'

`Beauregard.'

`Where is Fernay? It should be his watch.
Send him hither if you please.'

`You gave him permission to join the ship
at Calais.'

`Oh, ah, very true. Go on deck and see if
you see any suspicious schooner coming down
the harbor. Stay! Give my orders to Mr.
Beauregard to bring to every schooner that attempts
to pass or approach the ship this afternoon.
I will be on deck by and by. Go, you
have my orders.

`Yes, I see it. This schooner is going to
carry off my daughter,' he said rising and
pacing the deck. `Yes I've got my suspicions
roused. Madeline,' he called to the maiden,
who had retired the instant Henry Monteith
had left her.

`Sir,' answered Madeline coming in the
state room and looking alarmed and anxious.

`There is a conspiracy on foot, and you at
the bottom of it I suspect.'

The young girl thought she should have
sunk through the deck of the cabin for she
believed Henry had been discovered, and the
whole had been exposed. She was silent, and
it was fortunate that she was, for an unlucky
word might have betrayed her. Her father
continued, and each sentence he uttered, relieved
her.

`Yes, a schooner is getting underweigh under
suspicious circumstances. This custom-house
officer who found your bracelet, came
on board with a message from Mr Perot, the
Port Captain, to advise me of the fact and desired
me to bring her to. He did not know
what made her suspicious, but I do. You
know too.'

`Indeed, sir, I am at a loss,' she answered,
greatly relieved at finding her father did not
suspect Henry, or his plan of escape, but had
got upon another track.

`Well then, this schooner is, I'll be sworn,
under charge of your Scotch lover, and his
plan is to come down alongside with the evening
tide, and then if he can, get you out of
the cabin here, smuggle you on board, and
leave me to shut the cage door.

Madeline again became embarrassed. She
now believed her father had got some accurate
intelligence, and that to come near in a schooner
and then send a boat from it, was Henry's
intention. Her heart failed her and she knew
not what to say or do, to maintain her self-posession.
She felt all was lost. That the discovery
had been made, and that Henry would
be taken as in a trap. She rapidly devised in
her thoughts a hundred ways of communicating
to him information, and preventing the
catastrophe she now certainly foresaw. But
she could decide on none; for she was a prisoner
without any means or resources at command.

Captain Navarre had, however, received no
information, other than Henry himself had
given him, in his invented tale of a suspicious
schooner, which his mind, naturally suspicious,
and now particularly so, on account of his
daughter's late attempt at elopement, conjured
up into a vessel expressly prepared to carry
off his child. These suspicions working in
his active mind, at length produced a result
which came very near the truth.

`I know of no schooner, father.'

`No, perhaps you didn't: but that don't althe
case. It is not your fault that you did not;
but I have kept you so close that no one could
tell you your Scotch gallants' movements, unless
a sea-gull flying past the cabin windows.
No, no. I shall watch you sharply until we
get off soundings. Now go to your state-room.
I must go on deck and look for this schooner.
If I catch him I'll put him in irons and send
him to the Bastile.'

Madeline returned to her state-room, where
she gave herself up to unavailing tears for the
fate of her daring lover, whose arrest she now
felt to be certain.

In the meanwhile, the captain went on deck
where he had no sooner arrived, than his attention
was drawn by his lieutenant to a
schooner with long tapering masts, and a red
and black hull which was slowly moving round
the head of the pier, and laying her course
down the harbor.

`That's the suspicious schooner, my life on
it,' said Captain Navarre, levelling his glass.
`She is not a French build, and her canvas is
English cut. She carries a small green flag
at her fore peak, and sails well. Have a gun
ready to bring her too when she comes within
hearing.'

`There is another schooner getting under
sail, under her lee,' said the lieutenant.

`Yes, I see her—a droger for dried fish!
She is not suspicious, M. Beauregard. Keep
your eye only on this fellow with the green
flag.'

`I see a third vessel schooner rigged, and
foreign appearance, abreast the telegraph,'
said the captain looking with his glass; `she
is coming out. She carries a large top-gallant
sail and heavy main-sail with a red cross
in the centre. I don't know which is the
most suspicious looking, this or the green flag.
Ah, there she sets Sweedish colors. She is
peaceable enough—besides I see a Custom
House boat just quitting her.'

With intense interest the captain watched
the graceful approach of the schooner first
seen, and which he truly believed had something
to do with his daughter's presence on
board of the Minerve. Under a light yet steady
wind she came down the harbor, and was
within half a mile of the Minerve, when a
gun was fired at her from a cruiser at anchor
in the current, and then another, but of which
she took no heed.

`By Jupiter, they are trying to bring her up
the harbor. How is it that this Custom House
officer told me the port captain had no vessels
in port. There she fires again at her. We'll
stop the rascal here. Run off with my daughter!
Level your piece, M. Bouregard.'

The schooner as she got further out from
the quay felt the wind a point or two more
freely and came down towards the line ship,
parting the waves and heaving the spray before
her at six knots speed. Gun after gun
was fired from the cruizer, and seconded by
the fort, and the shot threw long wakes of
foam upon the surface of the water, but without
touching her. She made no alteration in
her course, and the only notice she seemed to
take of it was to set her flying jib.

`She is a bold craft,' said Captain Navarre,
`and means to run past instead of skulking
awhile till dark about us and then—running
off with my daughter.' This last sentence he
muttered to himself. `Now he is in range.
Let him have a shot across his fore-foot.'

The thirty-two pounder shook the ship to
the centre in its discharge and the shot was
plainly seen to pass over the schooner, and
strike and bury itself in a bank on the opposite
side of the harbor, throwing up a large
cloud of dust.

`The gun is too elevated, sir.'

`Mon Dien! charge a lower deck gun blow
her out of the water.'

In the meanwhile, the schooner kept steadily
on her course and was abeam of the liner
when a second shot struck the water half a
cable's length on the side of her next the ship,
and throwing up the water high into the air,
bound clear over the schooner dive beneath
the surface —fifty fathoms beyond on the other
side. The fort and cruizer now ceased firing
leaving the issue to the ship-of-the-line. A
third gun from the lower deck better elevated,
struck the water close beside her and covered
her in a shower of spray, wetting her canvas
forty feet from the deck.

`That must have taken her hull,' said Captain
Navarre, levelling his spy-glass; `no, it
must have glanced beneath her! She is taken
care of by the devil! Let me see who is
at her helm and on her decks. By Heaven!
a meer boy is steering her, and a man is standing
beside him with folded arms looking coolly
at the ship as if calculating the chances of
being hit by the next shot. I see four men
only on her forecastle. Every thing is hauled
home and in its place! She has a seaman to
command her, if he be what I suspect, cloven
footed. I see tarpaulins on her deeks which
I am sure conceal guns! Let her have another
shot! she is dead abeam!'

A fifth gun was discharged, and the captain
eagerly watched its effects with his glass. It
struck the head of the bow-sprit, shivering it,
and tore away a portion of the bulwarks, and
passed through the edge of the foresail taking
the boltrope.

`He is vulnerable. Another gun aimed
like that, my men,' cried the captain, `will
bring her to her knees. Charge, and fire rapidly,
or she will soon be beyond reach. In
two minutes more she will have passed our
line of fire. It will be a lasting disgrace to
the French marine if she escape. Fire!'

The concussion of the report of the pieces,
made the ship vibrate to her keel. The shot
went far astern of her, richochetting from
wave to wave, tearing and shivering in pieces
a ledge of rocks against which it struck.
Steady, and undisturbed by all the excitement
her presence caused, the schooner kept on her
way, and was soon beyond the bearing of the
ship's heavy ordnance. Captain Navarre
paced the deck like a mad-man at this discomfiture.
He gave an order to man boats
and pursue her; but a seven knot breeze before
which she was now moving seaward, convinced
him that a chase would only serve to
deepen the mortification of his failure. He,
with his officers, watched her with surprise
and interest as she lessened in the distance,
each lost in his own conjecture as to the character
of a vessel which had so successfully
eluded the combined force of the cruiser, the
fortress, and a ship-of-the-line. Captain Navaree
comforted himself, as he saw her disappearing
to the north-east, hull down, with the

assurance that for the present at least, his
daughter was not to be a passenger in her.

Madeline soon learned the cause of the heavy
cannonading, but she knew that Henry
was not in the schooner, for she had watched
with a small spy glass from the cabin window
his retiring boat, and seen him land at the
quay, just as the firing upon the schooner was
commenced by the castle and cruiser. She
knew, therefore, that he was for the present
safe, and that so far as the schooner had been
concerned, her father's suspicions had been
wrongly directed.

That night, a little after nine o'clock, a boat,
rowed by six men with muffled oars, put off
from a point of rocks opposite the ship-of-the-line,
and rowed towards her. The moon was
within a few nights of its full, and gave a
clearer light than men compelled to muffle
their oar's could desire. Swiftly that boat
came towards the dark mass that lay like a
huge castle afloat.

`What boat is that? challenged the sentinel
from the ganway.

`Castle.'

`Come along side.

`Aye, aye,' answered a cheerful voice which
the expecting, trembling Madeline knew to
be Monteith's. Her father had retired, locking
her in, and since three bells she had been
waiting between hope and fear, her lover.
How the challenge of the sentinel made her
blood leap! how throbbed her young heart at
the sound of his voice in reply.

The boat came up along side, and Monteith
ascended to the deck, dressed as a French
army officer, and requested to see the captain,
for whom he had important despatches. Captain
Navarre was informed of his presence
and object on board, and throwing on his Indian
morning gown, received him.

The assumed officer bowed, and presented
a packet. Captain Navarre tore the seal, and
read as follows:

`Sir, you are welcome. Monsieur le minister
shall be obeyed,' answered Captain Navarre
courteously.

`I will send my boat back, if you please,
and then retire to my state-room,' said Monteith
in a careless tone.

As he went on deck for this purpose, and
inwardly rejoicing in the success of his second
ruse d'amour, a paper fell from his sword-hilt
to the floor.

`It seems to me, said Captain Navarre to
himself, as he rose to pick it up, `that this
officer's face and voice are familiar. It does
not seem a long time since I have seen and
conversed with him. M. St. Clair Lorraine!
I don't recollect such a name, Ha! `To Mad
emoiselle Navarre!' What is this? A note
to my daughter! I must read it. Here is
treason and conspiracy. Who can have the
audacity to write to my daughter?

It would be impossible to express in language,
the astonishment and utter consternation
of Captain Navarre, on reading this fatal
missile. The identity of the custom-house
officer and the French bearer of despatches,
now flashed upon him. It was several seconds
before he could speak, for the depth of
his emotions of anger and vengeance.

`Ho, a guard! Seize the spy and traitor'
he shouted, till his voice rung through the
cabin. He flew to the deck, where Henry
having just dismissed his oarsmen was returning.
`Ho, you villain,' cried the infuriated
captain seizing his collar, `you Scotch rogue!
you pretty custom-house officer, and bearer
of despatches! I'll have you hung, sirrah. I
have read your note to my daughter! I will
have you guillotined. Ho, seize him and put
him in irons, and take him to the gun-room
prison!'

Montieth knew that all was discovered;
and anathematizing his carelessness in letting
the note he had intended to convvy to Madeline
be lost, he quietly yielded to his fate, and
suffered himself to be borne from the deck to
his prison.

We have now explained the past history of
the loves of the two persons now on board the
wreck of the Minerve, Henry had been imprisoned
the seventh day when the conflagration
occurred, during which time, the faithful
Madeline, by means of bribery, had repeatedly
visited him. The mode of his release
through her courage and devotion, is already
known to the reader.