by the time that lucy was seated at the cabin table of the aurora at the meal which had been prepared for her, with her father on one side and sir william lawrence on the other watching her with riveted eyes, listening to her with impassioned attention, putting such questions as must naturally arise from this most extraordinary adventure, the brig louisa ann was about three miles astern rolling and flapping onwards for whitby, her larder enriched by two casks of beef and a cask of fresh water, whilst in her master's pocket was captain acton's address; for it had been agreed that in consideration of the brig's skipper having taken miss lucy acton aboard his ship, he was to receive the fifty guineas reward which had been offered for her recovery, and which captain acton would forward when on his return he should know where to address the skipper.
[pg 368]
and meanwhile captain weaver had received instructions from captain acton to continue his chase of the minorca, and the schooner under full and large breasts of canvas was gently leaning from a pleasant little breeze which had sprung up whilst the aurora was sending meat and water to the brig, and was sliding with some show of nimbleness through a blue surface that was summer-like in peaceful rippling, in beautiful dyes, and in splendid distances.
the cabin that lucy was now to occupy had been fitted up and furnished with all possible reference to her needs, for it had been hoped that if she was not overtaken at sea she would be found at rio, and acton's and his sister's expectations were not so forlorn but that they believed the aurora would return with the girl, and the possibility was to be provided for with as much foresight as could be bestowed on the circumstance of her return as a fact. the boxes contained such wearing apparel as she herself might have chosen from her wardrobe. the toilet table was comfortably supplied: indeed nothing that she was accustomed to use in dressing herself was absent.
so, then, as she sat at table she almost looked the same beautiful lucy acton who had left her house early one morning for[pg 369] a walk in which she had met the hunchback paul and read a letter he gave her. the old rich colour was indeed lacking; no charm of hat, no grace of coiffure, no elegance of costume could immediately qualify or dispel the languor of fatigue in the eyes, the delicate shadow pencilled by worry and an enormous mental strain under the eyes, and a general expression in movements of silence or repose, of anxiety, pain, and another quality which you might have seen was present without being able to give it a name.
one or two questions of no moment had been asked and answered when the admiral exclaimed: "i beg, dearest madam, and you, captain acton, will forgive me for perhaps unseasonably thrusting in, by asking if you can tell me that atrocious, and to me heartbreaking as has been the conduct of my son, he acted nevertheless during his relations with you on board the minorca as a gentleman?"
"he did. i can assure you on my word of honour, sir william," answered the girl, with a glow and fervour that caused her father to again attentively examine her face with an expression which changed the look it was wearing. "in my feigned madness i reproached him in language which i knew was not ladylike. i called him a scoundrel,[pg 370] and a rogue, and many injurious and aggravating words which came into my head i flung at him, acting all the while the part of a madwoman. yet, sir," she said, turning to her father, "never once did my violent attacks upon his temper and character cause him to forget himself. he bowed to me, he madamed me, he was throughout as gentlemanlike and respectful as i had ever found him when we met at old harbour house or in old harbour town."
the admiral put his hand upon her's.
"i thank you for this gracious assurance," he said, in a voice deep with feeling, with eyes which looked humid as they reposed upon her, and with a faint smile like the first illumination of the face by a dawning happiness.
"did you act the part of a madwoman?" said captain acton.
"yes, papa. when i found myself his prisoner and at his mercy i quickly thought over what i should do to rescue myself. i understood, first of all, that i must disgust him if possible." captain acton and sir william exchanged a look at this stroke of naiveté and lightly smiled. "how was i to disgust him?" continued the beautiful young creature. "i made up my mind to pretend to be mad."
[pg 371]
"and you are so fine an actress as to have been able to persuade so intelligent a man that you were actually mad?" enquired captain acton with some astonishment.
"i was determined to try. i could see no other way of frightening and disgusting him."
"the spirit of her mother came to her aid," said the admiral, who had heard much of the genius of kitty o'hara.
"ha!" exclaimed captain acton, looking fondly at his child, "i don't doubt it is in you. but you have suffered it to rest as an unsuspected quality."
"and you made mr lawrence afraid of you?" said sir william.
she answered by relating the story of some of those freaks with which the reader has been made acquainted; she described other acts of madness which had taxed her imagination to devise. she was mad to all who spoke to her because, as she justly said, "it would have been ridiculous for me to have been mad to the captain and sane to everybody else in the ship."
captain acton listened to her with profound interest. he was greatly impressed and moved by his daughter's exhibition of traditionary genius. she recalled his wife, of whom he was passionately proud and fond. he had never imagined that lucy had the[pg 372] talent of an actress, but the dramatic character of her narrative and every point in her extraordinary relation convinced him that she was a born artist, and that accident had compelled her to reveal to herself gifts of power, perception, and imagination of whose existence she had been as ignorant as her father.
"my love," said captain acton, "will you tell me how it happened that you should have allowed yourself to be lured on board the minorca?"
"i will tell you exactly," said lucy, and the admiral bent his ear. "it was a very fine morning and i was awake early, and i thought i would walk as far as the pier and back, intending to be home before you read prayers. i left mamie behind, as she has a trick of running into the water, and she swims so badly that i am afraid she will one day be drowned. on the way i met the red-haired hunchback whom i had seen about old harbour town at times. there was something in his manner that made me think he was making for old harbour house. he saluted me very respectfully, and gave me a letter written in pencil. in my excitement and alarm i did not know what i did with it. if i put it in my pocket it was not there when i felt. it was signed by walter lawrence, who wrote that captain acton had come on[pg 373] board the minorca, had stumbled over something the name of which i forget, and fallen a few feet into the hold, which lay open. mr lawrence believed that captain acton was not dangerously hurt, but he was in a very bad way and in great pain, and he had asked mr lawrence to write to his daughter lucy and acquaint her with the accident and beg her immediate presence, but she must on no account make the disaster known to her aunt or to any other member of the household.
"i was completely deceived by this letter," continued lucy, "and hurried to the ship followed by the hunchback, who conducted me downstairs and opened a cabin door. i entered, thinking to find you there, sir. the door was instantly shut, and i found myself alone with mr lawrence."
"the villain!" muttered the admiral.
"but could you suppose, my love, that i should be down at that ship at so early an hour?" said the captain.
"i was too much agitated to reflect, papa," lucy answered. "it seemed so natural—so reasonable, and i hastened to the ship, in the belief that you were lying in her seriously hurt."
"but suppose that fellow paul had not met you?" said captain acton.
"mr lawrence is very daring," answered lucy. "i can easily believe that the hunchback [pg 374]paul, as he is called, had orders if he did not meet me to go to the house and deliver the letter to me in person."
"but wouldn't mr lawrence guess that i should be at home at that hour, and that you would know i was at home?" said captain acton.
"the devil," said the admiral, "is very bountiful to his servants in his gifts of opportunity."
"true!" answered captain acton. "fortune certainly favoured mr lawrence. and now, lucy, i want you to explain how it was that neither i, nor the admiral, nor captain weaver, could find a single living creature to tell us that you had been seen passing along the wharves to the minorca?"
"i am sure i cannot answer that question, sir. i was not disguised, nor was my face concealed. i wore my jockey hat. my spirits were in too great a hurry to allow me to take any notice, but i am quite sure that there were very few people about; none of these might have known or observed me, and it is not surprising, therefore, that you should not have guessed what had become of me."
"what excuse did mr lawrence make to the men for sending you into another ship?"
"i cannot believe that he made any excuses[pg 375] at all. he is not a man," lucy answered, with a faint smile which was certainly not unsuggestive of that sort of expression which the human face puts on when its wearer speaks with secret pride of another, "to make excuses for his conduct to the common sailors under him. indeed, papa, i don't know which side would be more surprised: he, in excusing his actions to the sailors, or they, that he should condescend to explain. when i first went on deck after being kept in the cabin the scene i witnessed might have been on the stage of a theatre: the crew stood in a body in the fore-part of the ship; two men were a little in advance of them, and at one of these men mr lawrence had levelled a pistol. there he stood, pistol in hand, and the sailor, stubborn and defiant, never budged. i felt faint. i feared he would shoot and kill the man."
"he didn't shoot, then!" cried the admiral.
"no, sir william; something like a scuffle followed, and mr pledge, who, i believe, was the boatswain, acting as an officer on board, holding some irons in his hand, seized one of the men, but i thought in a very gentle, friendly way, and carried him below."
"did no mutiny amongst the crew follow?" enquired captain acton.
"i think not. i am sure not. mr[pg 376] lawrence awed them all. i could never have believed in such a commanding, overwhelming manner as he put on."
the admiral drummed with his fingers upon the table, looking down.
"but pray, lucy," exclaimed captain acton, "what was mr eagle about? did not he know that you were mr lawrence's prisoner, though he might not have been able to guess that it was mr lawrence's intention to navigate the ship to rio to sell her there? did not he make any effort to rescue you by appeals to the captain, or by so working up the crew as to determine them to sail the ship back to old harbour town?"
"i can assure you, papa," answered lucy, "that mr eagle is a very silly, sour man, in whose rheumatism i shall no longer take any interest. he thought i was mad, and was as much afraid of me as he was of mr lawrence, and was careful to avoid me. as i just now said, if i was to be mad to mr lawrence, i must be mad to the others, and fully believing that i was mad, the crew would naturally think that the most humane course mr lawrence could adopt was to send me home by any ship that would receive me."
"you must have acted your part well, my child," said captain acton, viewing the girl with admiration and fondness.
[pg 377]
"i was forced to act many parts. every day the strain grew more and more unsupportable, and i prayed for the end to come in the way i was working for. i was obliged to act many parts, some so base, sordid, even disgusting, that my heart sickened at my imposition, and the internal struggle with my feelings was as hard as my external efforts. i had to invent my parts and rehearse them."
"what were the characters which could convince so shrewd and intelligent a man as mr lawrence that you were mad?" enquired captain acton, the habitual gravity of whose face was replaced by a constant expression of astonishment.
"i pretended to hear voices, and answered, of course, when mr lawrence was present," said lucy. "i would bow to visionary persons and address them. one was the duke of clarence, whose hand i kissed while mr lawrence looked on."
captain acton's eyes opened wide; the admiral gurgled a nervous laugh.
"i secreted my rings and some rubbish, and made signs with a mad face to mr lawrence to come and look at the treasure i had hidden. i took my meals on the deck crouching like an animal. i would shriek with laughter which had nothing to do with what was said. a later and most difficult effort was to believe that i was mrs siddons."
[pg 378]
"what on earth have you been reading in your day about madness to give you such extraordinary ideas?" said captain acton.
"i can't tell how the fancies came to me," said lucy. "i know that mad people see apparitions and reply to imaginary voices. i also remembered old sarah hutchinson who was thought mad because she was always trying to tear up things: her sheets, her gowns, anything that might be given to her. it was the remembrance of this disease in her that made me rip up my mattress and scatter the feathers about the cabin."
"some of these days, madam," said the admiral, "i trust you will favour me with a sample of the genius that terrified mr lawrence and led to your recovery, for which god be praised."
she looked at sir william, and with that look her face underwent a change—the change that had amazed mr lawrence, that transformation of beauty into alternate idiocy and bright-eyed madness, that marvellous facial motion which had done more to convince her kidnapper that his act had driven her mad than all the rest of her impersonations put together. her rich and beautiful eyelids seemed to shrink up into the sockets in which her eyes were lodged; the eyes themselves seemed to sparkle with the uninterpretable passions of the afflicted[pg 379] brain; the faint bloom which her cheek wore when she stepped on board faded as the picture of a red rose overhanging its reflection in water disappears at the blurring by the wind of its liquid mirror. her lips were elongated and parted, and grey with tension, and her teeth, white as sea foam, were set. the whole expression of madness was incomparably life-like.
sir william started back in his chair, crying faintly: "my god! look at her, acton!"
the father caught that surprising face of dramatic genius a moment before she composed her features to their natural calm beauty of drooping lid and brooding eye and sweet expression of lip, and the tenderness, the gentleness, the goodness that was her heart's and her soul's, and the foundations of her moral nature.
"well, lucy," said captain acton, after fetching a deep breath of astonishment, "should i die insolvent, you will know your fortune. you have it in your face: i don't question the rest of your performance. 'tis the very spirit of her mother, sir. small wonder that mr lawrence was convinced."
"the british stage misses a splendid figure, a shining light, in your neglect of it, madam," said the admiral.
[pg 380]
"oh, i have no taste for acting. i have no ambition to be an actress. this effort was forced upon me. how was i to disgust him, sir?"
again at this ingenuous remark the admiral and the captain exchanged a smile.
"do you think, my dear," said captain acton, "that the crew know they are being carried to rio de janeiro? i believe, sir," he continued, addressing the admiral, "that in mr lawrence's letter that mr greyquill brought to us reference was made to certain sealed orders given by me to the captain of the ship to be opened and read to the crew in a position that was or was not named—i forget."
"i have no doubt that the crew know that the ship is not being steered to the west indies," answered lucy. "in silent weather in my cabin i could hear any conversation that passed in the room where mr lawrence or his officers sat at table, and more than once i overheard mr pledge and mr eagle talking about the ship's navigation, wondering to what port captain acton had in his sealed orders directed mr lawrence to carry the ship, to sell her and dismiss the crew. i therefore supposed that the rest of the men would know that the ship was not bound to kingston."
[pg 381]
"i judge by this," said captain acton, addressing the admiral, "that my sealed orders"—he smiled sarcastically, and the admiral listened with a frown—"have not yet been read to the crew by mr lawrence."
"where is the aurora going?" enquired lucy.
"we are pursuing the minorca," answered captain acton.
she looked down upon the table with a grave face. "she is not far distant," she said, speaking as though in soliloquy. "it is only three days ago that i was on board of her. this swift vessel is certain to overtake her. and what then will happen?"
and as she said this she suddenly lifted her eyes half-veiled, dark, and beaming to her father's face.
"the admiral and i," answered captain acton, talking as though slightly embarrassed, though moved by other feelings, "consider that we cannot do better than remove mr lawrence into this ship, and carry him to england."
"and what after?" enquired lucy, observing that her father paused with an expressive look at sir william, "i mean what after as regards mr lawrence?"
"you do not wish him to be hanged for piracy, even if abduction be not a hanging[pg 382] matter," said captain acton with a smile in his eyes as he met the admiral's.
the girl shuddered. "i know they hang for piracy!" she exclaimed. "it is what must happen if you convey him to england."
"he must be prosecuted before they can hang him," said captain acton, whilst the admiral's regard was fastened upon lucy's face with such tokens of affectionate gratitude and surprise which rose to a passion of delight as made the worthy, poor old man's jolly, weather-scored, truly british countenance moving to behold. "and who is to prosecute him? i alone am the sufferer. i alone can prosecute. am i likely to do so? am i the man to bring my friend's son to the gallows?"
"no, sir, no!" cried the admiral in a deep, trembling voice.
"but though you do not prosecute him, sir," said lucy, "might not his story become known so that he might be arrested for piracy, and charged and convicted on the evidence of his crew?"
"you are a portia," said captain acton.
"she reasons exquisitely well!" exclaimed the admiral, slowly and dolefully wagging his head.
"we propose to provide against all that your fears picture, my dear," said captain[pg 383] acton, who could no longer doubt that aunt caroline was right, and that there had been, and that there still lived, a deep secret liking or love for mr lawrence in lucy, which had not suffered but rather gained by his rascality, "by landing mr lawrence at an english port where he is unknown, where habited in the garb of a common merchant sailor he will seek, and of course obtain, employment before the mast, and sail away clear of all dangerous consequences of his conduct."
"sail away, madam, into the remotest part of the earth to be seen no more—to be heard of no more," said the admiral, trying to master his face as he spoke. but he failed and turned his head from his companions, and would have buried his face in his hands but that he would not have them know that his love for his son was deeper than his horror at his conduct.
the silence that followed was eloquent with recognition of the poor old gentleman's trouble. lucy left her chair, and going close to the admiral said, yet not so low but that captain acton overheard her: "it will not be as you say, sir william. indeed it must not be. so fine a character besmirched by acts into which a very bitter necessity has forced him, ought not to be found in the common garb[pg 384] of a humble working merchant sailor, nor buried in some distant parts where he can never shine as a man of fine and heroic spirit fit to fill the highest position in the service he has left; and above all, and which is best, sir, capable of bitter regret, of deep feeling, of exerting the power by which the humbled man is alone able to struggle—i mean the power of self-regeneration."
she spoke like a young wild-eyed prophetess; her tones had a vigorous, dramatic clearness which made her voice new to her father's ears. her language, which seemed exalted beyond her age, beyond anything one would look for in the lips of so calm, modest, and undemonstrative a girl, she appeared to make peculiarly appropriate to her years and sex, by her delivery, her melodies of accentuation, the easy grasp with which, it was clear, she held a subject that was deep in human nature.
the admiral rose, and addressing her as though she were the consort of a king, said: "madam, as the father of the person you speak of, i ask almighty god, who is merciful and knows the human heart, to bless you for your words."
captain acton was silent. he was astonished. he had never observed his daughter as aunt caroline did. he was wanting in feminine sagacity where the heart is concerned. he[pg 385] saw that if his daughter was not in love with mr lawrence, she was dangerously near that passion; she seemed to him to have been transformed into a sweetheart by usage which would have made the heart of most young women fierce with hate and horror. she was under a spell which she thought to break by the practice of an inherited art, as miraculous in effect as it had been unsuspected in being, and she had left her kidnapper seemingly as enamoured of him as though his behaviour from the beginning had been strictly honourable and chivalrous, an additament to the passion which his gallant record, his lofty bearing, and his handsome looks had inspired in her.
her rising from the table had caused the gentlemen to rise. they went on deck. lucy said she was tired and would be glad to take some rest; her accommodation on board the louisa ann was very wretched, and she had scarcely been able to sleep on account of the gruff voices, the alarming creaking and groaning noises, and a strange hideous smell which probably came from the cargo, all which she must always associate in memory with the louisa ann. she wished however to see the aurora, and for some minutes she stood on the deck with her father and the admiral beside her, gazing[pg 386] round the picture as though entranced. once again her lovely eyes seemed to brood even in their glances; they appeared to dwell with a dreamy delight on what they beheld. through her parted lips the sweet breeze rushed, and the hair upon her brow flickered like shadows cast by the wavering of a silver flame.
the bright, mild wind came gushing steadily over the bulwark rail; the decks were slightly sloped, and their seams ran black, as defined as the ebony lines ruled by standing rigging in moonshine, and the planks between shone like ivory. on high the heeling structure was a vast surface of canvas, with three square yards at the fore for the fore topsail and topgallant sail, and over the swan-like stem of this american clipper—for a clipper she was—the immensely long bowsprit and jibboom spread the foot of huge triangular wings which gave the hull a grand and noble look forward, as though she was about to spring from the water in the brilliant flash of foam which darted from the wet and metalled fore-foot, to form one of the squadron of cream-coloured clouds royal in their progress with trailing robes of glory.
"what a contrast," exclaimed lucy, "to the louisa ann!"
she turned her eyes into that remote part of the sea on the quarter where the louisa ann[pg 387] hung transformed by distance and sunshine into a star of day. so marvellous is the magic wrought by the wand of the deep in its passage over even such shapeless enormities as the whitby brig.
when she had drunk her full of the fine wide scene of sea and sky and milk-bright schooner in the midst, with never a break the clear horizon round save the louisa ann that was fast fading, lucy went below, followed by her father, who kissed her again and again in a transport of delight at having recovered her, and in being able once more to hold his adored child to his heart, and before she entered her berth to lie down and rest, he said to her: "i am so overjoyed, my darling, in having recovered you that i take no interest in the minorca. mr lawrence may do with her what he pleases—i have you."
she smiled and kissed him, and then said: "but oh, sir, his poor old father! you have regained me, your only child, but sir william, an old, a good man, an upright, a beautiful character, must lose his son, an only child too."
"he shall not lose him through me," said captain acton, speaking with the solemnity with which he might utter a sentence in a sacred building. "sir william shall never be made to suffer at my hands. i will not lift a finger to prosecute mr lawrence, who, if he[pg 388] ever returns to old harbour town, will be safe from all but his creditors."
she slightly coloured as though surprised into an emotion of happiness, and again kissing her father went into her berth, and captain acton returned to the admiral slowly and thoughtfully.
it was early next morning, about six bells—seven o'clock—when an event of the deepest historic interest to those who took part in it, broke the routine of the chase of the minorca by the aurora. the wind was a little to the north of west, and blew a gentle breeze which rippled the waters upon the long-drawn swell that came heaving from horizon to horizon, from north-west to south-east, as though a gale of wind had been lately blowing or was to come. though freckled with high fine-weather clouds the dome of heaven sank in purity to its girdle of sea line, and from the deck at daybreak nothing was in sight.
but soon as the east changed from darkness into a pale luminous grey, with the stars fading above the soaring haze of light as though they fled in scatterings, a sailor trotted up the forerigging of the aurora, and shinned as high as the topgallant yard over which he flung a leg with his back against the mast, and taking the telescope that was slung upon his back in his hands, he slowly and[pg 389] steadily directed the lenses round the girdle of brine which was now faintly stealing into a visible horizon in the west, and his silence betokened to captain weaver, who stood on the quarterdeck with eyes fixed upon the fellow up aloft, that nothing was in sight.
captain weaver was carrying out the instructions he had received at old harbour town. he was chasing the minorca. the recovery of lucy had led to no change in those instructions. though captain acton in his gratitude for the restoration of his child was willing to relinquish the pursuit and to leave the minorca and the handsome piratical scoundrel who had sailed away with her and lucy to their fate, he had not revealed his thoughts to captain weaver, nor to the admiral, and the aurora at this hour of daybreak on a day in june 1805, was steadily stemming in chase of the barque which she was to capture, captain weaver did not exactly know how. for the aurora was unarmed, whilst the minorca mounted four pieces of artillery, and was in command of a naturally desperate fighting and fearless spirit, one whose neck would certainly be broken by the hangman if he was taken: unless indeed his crew turned upon him, and backed their yards and stopped the ship, that her owner might come by his own, despite mr lawrence's levelled[pg 390] pistol or any threats he might make use of in reference to the powder magazine. "but," captain weaver had thought to himself on several occasions, "time enough to know what's a-going to happen when we heave the minorca into view or draw abreast of her, for who's to tell but that we are bound to miss her, in which case we shall receive her at rio, providing her skipper hasn't got scent of us and shifted his hellum for another port, and then there can be no blazing away of carronades on one side and a trimming of sail to keep clear of shot on the other."
just as the sun rose the admiral came on deck, and as the old gentleman stepped over the coaming of the sunk door of the deck-house and mounted the two or three steps that carried him on deck, the man on the topgallant yard, with his telescope shooting straight from his eye into the south-west quarter of the sea, bawled: "on deck there! two sail, a point and a half on the starboard bow."
scarcely had the words been received by the ears on deck, when he shouted: "two more sail, just astarn of the two first."
"what's this going to be?" exclaimed the admiral to captain weaver.
another call from the mast-head, and yet another and another and another in brief[pg 391] intervals of scarce half a minute's duration each; and at last fourteen sail were reported in sight on the starboard bow, sailing large, heading north-east or thereabouts so that the course of the aurora would bring her into the thick of them.
at this moment captain acton came on deck. he saw the cloud of sail in an instant, and the admiral having taken the ship's glass from captain weaver's hands, acton rushed into the deck-house to get his own fine telescope.
"a small convoy, sir, i think," said captain weaver.
"no, sir," responded captain acton, with his eye at his glass. "line of battle-ships, and three smaller vessels," for by this time the distant fleet by combination of its own and the passage of the aurora through the water had lifted above the horizon to the topsails of the hindmost, the courses of the van swelling and falling plain in the lenses as the structures bowed upon the large, wide, steel-coloured swell tinctured by the day-spring.
"i agree with you, acton: a fleet of men-of-war," said the admiral.
"british or french?" enquired captain acton, letting his glass sink whilst he looked at his companions. "before we sailed the news had got about that villeneuve meant to[pg 392] go for the west indies. it may be his ships returning." he pointed his glass again, and counted: "eleven sail of the line and three frigates."
"villeneuve's force was greater, sir," said the admiral. "it was reckoned at eighteen or twenty line-of-battle ships."
"all the same we must mind our eye," said captain acton. "shorten sail, captain weaver! but furl nothing! and stand by to get away close hauled on the larboard tack before we're within gunshot."
lucy came out of the deck-house. a long night's rest had restored much of the bloom to her beauty. she wanted something of the freshness, but she lacked nothing of the sweetness and the loveliness with which she fascinated the gaze at home. she ran to her father and kissed him, shook hands with the admiral, and bowed to captain weaver most cordially.
"what a lot of ships!" she cried.
the crew were busy with letting go halliards and brailing in and clewing up, and the aurora floated forward, slowly swaying her mast-heads with languor and dignity as the heave of the sea took her and rocked her. the ships rose until every hull was visible.
eleven line-of-battle ships, as captain acton said, and three frigates. they flew no colours:[pg 393] nothing in that way could be seen save the little patch against the flecked sky that denoted the flag-ship.
"if they are not british, sir," said the admiral, after a prolonged squint through the glass, "i'll swallow my cocked hat when i get ashore."
"i could swear to one of them as the superb," said captain acton, who had also taken a prolonged view of the ships through his glass. "she is a slow sailer. i know that she is rotten to the core for want of a dockyard. if i am not greatly mistaken, her stun-sail booms are lashed to the yards, and she is the only one with stun-sails set, which means that her rotting keel marks the pace for the rest. hoist our colours! we'll chance it."
captain weaver sped aft, and in a few moments the english ensign soared to the mizzen-gaff end and streamed out fair to the sight of the approaching fleet.
"british, as i guessed," cried the admiral.
"and here comes a frigate to speak us," exclaimed captain acton, as one of the smaller vessels which had hoisted english colours came out from the crowd with yards braced for the shift of helm and, leaning under her silk-white towers of cloths, and rolling as she came, made directly for the aurora.
[pg 394]
the schooner was washing slowly along under her three lower gaff sails only, and the frigate that carried everything but studding sails was speedily within ranging and hailing distance. she was the amphion, without much beauty to detain the eye, unless the gaze climbed aloft where every sail was cut and set with the perfection that was the characteristic of the british man-of-war, and where the running and standing rigging was ruled as delicately against the sky as though exquisitely pencilled on paper, and on high, just under the gleaming button of the truck, shimmered the long pennant in fluctuating dyes like a thread of a girl's golden hair floating on the breeze. but her sheathing was rusty and ungainly with marine growths, and her sides wanted the paint-pot, but the run of the hammock cloths was as white as snow, and her row of cannon and the sparkle of uniform buttons and the colour got from the marine sentry posted here or there, heightened the war-like spectacle to the degree of a marine piece charged with the loveliness of finish and precision and imposing and stirring with the spirit of war.
she put her helm over, and sailing broadside to broadside with the aurora, hailed her from the throat of a lieutenant who had hoisted his figure by standing on a carronade.
[pg 395]
"ho, the schooner ahoy! where are you from?"
"old harbour town, england," responded captain weaver.
"have you seen anything of the french fleet?"
"no, sir, we have sighted nothing of that sort."
this was manifestly all that the frigate had left the other ships to ascertain, and the lieutenant was in the act of springing on to the deck, when captain acton shouted: "pray, sir, can you tell us what those ships are?"
"they are the fleet under lord nelson," was the answer, "which have been chasing monsieur de villeneuve across the atlantic to the west indies, and are now bound to europe, having missed the frenchmen."
"i am admiral sir william lawrence," was next bawled. "will you be so good as to inform me if lord nelson is on board one of those ships, and which ship?"
"yes, sir, he is on board the victory. she is the one that is ahead of and to windward of the ship that has stun-sails set."
so saying, and evidently not much impressed by meeting an admiral of whom he had never heard in a schooner that looked uncommonly like a slaver or a pirate, the[pg 396] lieutenant disappeared, and a moment or two after, the frigate trimmed sail to rejoin the fleet.
"nelson!" cried captain acton, in a voice subdued by reverence for the name it pronounced, addressing his daughter. "we must run down and have a look at him. the deviation need not be above two or three miles, which will not cause us to lose sight of the minorca by diverting us from her track. make all sail again, captain weaver, and head for that flag-ship. you can see her: she is to windward of the ship with the stun-sails."
all sail was immediately made on the schooner. and with a fine dancing motion thrown into her by the swell, her coppered sides slipped nimbly through the water, graced by the frolic of foam sheared out of the feathering ripples by the sharp stem.
it was not very long before the eleven sail of the line with their attendant frigates were swelling large, bristling, and close to the aurora, at whose signal halliards stood two sailors who dipped to such battle-ships as the schooner passed receiving the acknowledgment of small ensigns gaff-ended, and then hauled down to be hoisted no more. the picture was full of a grandeur that borrowed majesty from the sense of the power and the empire[pg 397] the ships symbolised. they were lordly in slow motion; they bowed to the swell as though in lofty homage to their mistress the sea; they were terrible in triple rows of cannon and by virtue of the traditional magnificent spirit, silent and concealed behind their lofty and invincible defences. it was the breakfast hour, but the people aboard the aurora were very willing to wait to break their fast. not a man but was fascinated by the sight and presence of that tall, majestic ship out there, with the little flag at the fore. for nelson—the nelson of the north, of aboukir bay, of teneriffe, of st vincent, the nelson of a hundred wounds, the first of all sea chieftains in the history of the world, nelson, the truest sailor, the kindest shipmate, the man of the purest and loftiest spirit of chivalry and patriotism that ever stepped the planks of a ship's decks—this great, this sublime hero, to be even greater and sublimer in his victorious and immortal death a few months later—nelson was in her!
as the schooner, swifter by two to one than the battle-ships, passed onwards on her road to the victory, the admiral and captain acton recognised some of the three-deckers in which they had served as midshipmen.
"there's the old canopus!" cried the admiral. "lord, what a shivering [pg 398]recollection i have of her main topmast cross-trees!"
"and there's the bellisle," said captain acton. "i was in her"—and he named the period to his daughter, whom he addressed, but who seemed to have no eyes for any ship but the victory. other ships, the two retired naval officers knew, were the superb, spencer, swiftsure, and leviathan.
the position of the victory gave plenty of scope for the manœuvrings of the aurora. captain weaver, finding that he would rapidly outsail the liner and be ahead and out of hail before half a dozen sentences could be exchanged, luffed the aurora to windward of the victory, wisely declining to be becalmed by the big ship's sails if he stationed his little craft to leeward of her. a lieutenant stood at the forward end of the raised deck, or poop as it really was. one or two midshipmen were visible. the sentry on the forecastle was in sight; otherwise scarce a man was to be seen. the lieutenant hailed as the officer in the amphion had: "schooner ahoy! are you fresh from england?"
"direct, sir," answered captain weaver.
scarcely had the aurora's skipper made this answer when there appeared at the side of the lieutenant a figure whose apparition was so sudden that, like hamlet's ghost in[pg 399] the theatre, he might be thought to have risen from below through an opening in the deck. he wore a cocked hat athwartships. his frock uniform coat seemed somewhat threadbare; amidst the folds of the left breast of his coat were four weather-tarnished and lustreless stars. the right sleeve was empty and was secured to the breast. one eye was protected by a green shade. he looked a little man alongside the lieutenant who himself was not above the average. collingwood described him as small enough to be drawn through an alderman's thumb ring.
at the sight of this immortal figure the admiral and captain acton instantly bared their heads, and the whole of the crew of the aurora, springing into the fore and main shrouds, roared hurrahs in such voices as perhaps only british sailors' throats are capable of delivering. amidst those shouts of rapturous recognition and impassioned pride, could be heard such exclamations as, "god bless you, lord nelson!" "down with the french, and glory to our hero!" "hurrah for the grandest sailor in the world!"
nelson, standing beside his lieutenant, who might have been pasco (the officer who, on the 21st day of the following october, made[pg 400] the nelson signal that is as dear as his heart's blood to every englishman), acknowledged the salutations of the schooner's quarterdeck and the mobs in her rigging by bows and a smile, and a lifting of his hand and certain flapping motions of the stump of his right arm, an action into which he was frequently moved when irritated or pleased.
"i should like to know," he exclaimed, and every ear on board the schooner was bent to catch his accents, with the greed with which a crowd of men might be supposed to extend their hands to catch a shower of gold flung amongst them from a height, "if you have seen anything of the french fleet under admiral villeneuve?"
"no, my lord," shouted the admiral, "i am very sorry to say we have not."
nelson's stump wagged with annoyance.
"i have followed them to the west indies," he exclaimed, "with eleven sail of the line, and villeneuve has eighteen or twenty; but you may tell them at home, if you are returning shortly, that had i fallen in with the french fleet i should have brought them to action."
"we are honoured by your lordship's command," cried the admiral. "may i venture to introduce myself as admiral sir william lawrence? and i beg the honour of introducing my friend captain acton, late of his[pg 401] majesty's royal navy, and his daughter, miss lucy acton."
nelson flourished a salutation. lucy sank in a curtsy that was almost the same as kneeling. most girls have a favourite hero, and nelson was her's, and had been her's ever since he came into renown on the glorious st valentine's day. had her father not been fascinated by the figure on the victory, he might have witnessed the almost magical art with which his daughter had alarmed mr lawrence into releasing her, by a brief study of her face as she gazed at the little figure on the deck of the victory, with his untenanted sleeve secured to his breast, and a smile of acknowledgment on his pale and worn face, seamed about the mouth with wrinkles such as are sometimes seen in persons deformed in the back, or suffering from spinal complaint.
the aurora and the line-of-battle ship sailed so close that it needed a special vigilance on the part of captain weaver to preserve his schooner's spars from the yard-arms of the towering vessel within a biscuit toss. much exertion of voice was therefore not necessary for conversation, and though nelson occupied a platform high above the low deck of his schooner, his features were perfectly visible, and his voice fell as clear as though he stood beside those he addressed.
[pg 402]
"any relation, sir, of lawrence of the peterel and curieux affair?" he cried.
"i am his father, my lord," replied sir william with a low bow, of which the gravity that coloured it was very intelligible to captain acton and lucy.
"a brilliant piece of work, sir," cried nelson.
again the poor old admiral bowed, this time with a glow of pride, because a sentence of praise from the mighty nelson excited in the heart of this old sailor a transport that the highest honour conferred by the king himself could not have induced.
"i have had the honour, my lord," exclaimed the admiral, "to serve under howe, duncan, and sir hyde parker, but alas! i came into the world too soon to reflect even a little of the glory with which those who have had the unspeakable happiness to serve under your lordship have covered themselves."
"ah, three illustrious names, sir," said nelson. "howe was the greatest of sea officers. are you gentlemen making a voyage of discovery or of pleasure?"
"we are in chase of a ship, my lord," cried captain acton, "which we hope to capture."
"how? unarmed!" exclaimed nelson.
"we hope to effect our end without bloodshed, my lord," said captain acton.
[pg 403]
"you will be very clever. i wish i could learn how to effect ends in the same way," were nelson's closing words, as, saluting the people on the deck of the aurora once more, he stepped back and disappeared, followed by a storm of cheers from the men of the aurora, in which the admiral and captain acton heartily joined, whilst lucy flourished her pocket-handkerchief, though her hero was out of sight.
