“Hurra!” exclaimed Jack, rushing into the berth, and throwing up his cap; “there’s a chance of a brush this time, and no mistake. The gun-room officers say that the French are certain to be at war with us by this time. They are going to help Mehemet Ali; so if the stranger is not a Frenchman, she is pretty certain to be an Egyptian, and either one or the other will do.”
The information was received in the berth with general satisfaction. Only one person heard it with dismay. That was Pigeon. He turned very pale.
“What shall I do? Where shall I go?” he exclaimed. “I didn’t come here to fight. Couldn’t I be put on shore?”
“No, but you can keep below and help the doctor, where you may be of use and out of harm’s way, if we don’t go down, or blow up during the action,” said Murray with no little disdain in the tone of his voice.
“Oh! oh!” groaned Pigeon. “Go down, or blow up! Oh, dear!”
* * *
* * *
Chapter Six.
The beautiful frigate looked like a vast cloud of snowy whiteness as, with studding-sails alow and aloft, she swept proudly along over the blue waters of the Mediterranean in chase of the stranger. The latter had been standing to the eastward; but seeing herself pursued, she also altered her course, and ran off before the wind towards the land. Night was coming on, and it was very important to get up with her, near enough to ascertain her character, to prevent her escaping, should such be her design, in the dark. Everyone was on deck or in the tops, looking out at the stranger, and those considered themselves fortunate who could command the use of a spy glass. One person—Bully Pigeon—was below, and he sat quaking on a chest in the orlop deck, where he had been told that he would be least likely to have his head shot away.
“I am a non-combatant, you know. It would be very wrong in me to expose my life,” he observed with a trembling lip. “If I was one of you, of course I would do my duty as bravely as anybody; but as I am a civilian, and am come aboard for my health, I think it is my duty to take care of myself.”
“O! of course,” was the reply; “so precious a person should run no risk of losing his valuable life.”
“Oh, I wish poor Adair were with us!” exclaimed Jack. “He did so wish to see a real fight; and to have to go out of the world without having been in one was very trying.” Jack spoke just as his feelings for the moment prompted him, without much consideration, I suspect.
“Do you know, Rogers, that since we escaped in so wonderful a way from drowning, I have more than once thought that perhaps some of the people of the Onyx may have been saved,” observed Murray. “I do not say that I have any great hopes on the subject, but still I cannot help thinking that it is possible.”
“I’m afraid not, though; we should have heard of them before now,” replied Jack. “But if anybody escaped, I would rather it were Paddy Adair than anyone else.”
Their conversation was cut short by that rolling sound of a drum, which makes the heart of every true man-of-war’s man leap with joy. It followed the captain’s order to the first lieutenant, “Beat to quarters.” What magic was there in the sound of those words! In an instant everyone, from the first lieutenant to the smallest powder-monkey, was in full activity. Bulkheads were knocked away, fire-screens were put up, the galley fire was extinguished, the magazines were opened, powder and shot were handed up, the small-arms were served out, the men buckled on their cutlasses, and stuck their pistols in their belts.
Although Captain Lascelles fully believed that he should gain the victory, he was too good an officer and too wise a man not to take every possible means to secure it. It was soon evident that the Racer was coming up hand-over-hand with the chase, and before long it was clearly made out that she was, at least, a fifty-gun ship. She showed no colours, and as to her nationality opinions were divided. Some thought she was French; but then in opposition to this conjecture, it was asserted that a French fifty-gun ship was not likely to run away from a frigate, whereas a Turk or an Egyptian was very likely indeed to do so. The officers on board them were generally very inefficient, while a total want of discipline prevailed.
“That craft ahead must have a very bad conscience, or she would not be in such a hurry to get out of our way,” observed Jack; “she’s a Turk, or I am a Dutchman.”
“So the captain thinks, which is fortunate, or you might have to turn into a Dutchman, or else break your word,” observed Murray.
“I wish that he were a Frenchman. I should so like to have a tussle with him,” said Jack. “Let people talk as they will about liberty, equality, and fraternity, I agree with my father, that the French never will like the English till they have taught us to eat frogs and have thrashed us on a second field of Waterloo, and I hope that time may never come.”
“I hope not either,” said Murray. “But I have no wish to go to war with France or Frenchmen. If they are bad friends, they are worse enemies, and not to be despised, depend on that; no people could have fought better than they did during the last war.”
“That is the reason I should like to fight them again,” exclaimed Jack. “What is the use of fighting with people who can’t fight?”
Murray laughed at Jack’s style of reasoning. He had not arrived at the conclusion which an older man might have reached, that fighting under any circumstances is a dreadful business, and that the person who gives the cause for the fight does a very wicked thing, utterly hateful in the sight of God. Never let that truth be forgotten.
Darkness was now rapidly coming on. The stranger could just be seen looming through it. Captain Lascelles felt pretty confident, however, that he should come up with her before she could make her escape. Night at last settled completely down over the ocean; still she could be seen, though very indistinctly. On the two ships flew before the breeze. At length the master, who had been examining the chart in his cabin, came up to the captain.
“We are drawing in very near to the coast, sir,” said he. “It will be safer to keep the lead going.”
“But where the ship ahead can float so can we,” observed Captain Lascelles.
“She may manage to run in between reefs on which we may strike. Never let us trust to the leading of an enemy, sir,” was the answer.
“You are right, Master! you are right!” exclaimed Captain Lascelles in a tone of warm approval. “Send a hand with the lead into each of the chains. We’ll run no risk of casting the ship away.”
Soon the voices of the leadsmen were heard through the still silence of night, as the gallant frigate clove her way through the calm waters.
“By the deep nine,” sung out one on the starboard side.
“By the mark seven,” was soon afterwards heard from the man in the port chains.
“Quarter less six,” was next shouted out.
“We are shoaling our water rapidly,” observed Captain Lascelles to the first lieutenant. “Stand by to go about.”
All eyes had been fixed on the dark mass ahead. Onward it seemed to glide through the darkness. Everyone felt certain that their eyes did not deceive them. There still appeared, they all believed, the sails of the stranger, a huge towering pinnacle reaching to the sky. Yet so near the ground were they that it was dangerous for the frigate, though of course drawing much less water, to stand on.
“Was she a ship of mortal fabric?” some of the more superstitious among the seamen began to ask.
As they looked, the tall pyramid seemed to rock, and then suddenly to dissolve into the air. A sound, at the same time, came from the southward, as if of breakers dashing on a rocky shore.
“Hands about ship,” shouted the captain with startling energy.
The cry was repeated by the first lieutenant, and quick almost as the answer of an electric message the boatswain’s whistle uttered the well-known call along the decks. Round came the ship, and when the eyes of those on board were turned to the south, not an indication could be discovered of the ship which had thus far led them in the chase.
“We’ll keep her off and on during the night,” said the captain to the first lieutenant.
“At daylight we will stand in and see what has become of her. There is little doubt, however, that she has gone on shore. I trust, as there is not much sea on, that the people will contrive to save themselves.”
At this time the Sultan of Turkey was running a great risk of losing the greater part if not the whole of his dominions. Mehemet Ali was one of the most remarkable men who appeared in the East during the nineteenth century. Although of the lowest origin and unable to read, having become a soldier, he raised himself by his talents and intrigues to the highest rank in the Turkish army. Being sent to Egypt, he deposed the ruler of that province, and became pasha in his stead. Then he thought that he might as well rule over Syria also. He accordingly marched his army there, took possession of the country, and even threatened Constantinople. A British squadron was sent to blockade the ports of Egypt and Syria, with a few Austrian and Turkish ships, Russia undertaking not to take possession of Constantinople. The French had not been consulted in the matter, and had they felt themselves sufficiently strong, there is little doubt that they would have supported Mehemet Ali, at the expense of a war with England. Thus much was at the time known to Captain Lascelles. Much circumspection was therefore required, for it was difficult to understand who were friends and who foes. The French commanders might have received secret orders to attack the English after a certain day; the Egyptians might at any moment do so, if they felt themselves strong enough to be assured of victory; while it was more than probable that any Turkish ships might have gone over to the Egyptians, and have thus become enemies. Few of the officers turned in that night; they were all anxious to ascertain who the stranger was, and what could possibly have become of him. Captain Lascelles took the frigate in as close as he could venture, and though each time every eye on board was turned eagerly towards the shore, not a sign of a ship could be discovered. At length daylight dawned, and a white sandy shore was seen, with bare dark rocky heights, rising behind it. “There she is! there she is!” broke from many voices as all the glasses on board were directed towards the shore. There lay stranded the huge black hull of a ship, her masts gone by the board, and her rigging hanging down in confused masses on either side, while the white surf dashed up around her. What had become of the people it was impossible at that distance to say. Captain Lascelles, who was on deck, ordered the ship to be hove-to.
“I wonder what is next to be done,” said Jack to Murray; “I hope, if the boats are ordered away, you and I will have to go in them.” Very soon the order was given. “Barge and first and second cutters away.” Jack and Alick belonged to the two latter. They hurried to get them ready. The crews were armed, and a three-pounder was placed in the bow of each boat. Mr Thorn had charge of the expedition. It was not expected that there would be any fighting, but as a precautionary measure it was necessary to be armed. No one now supposed that the stranger was French. There could be little doubt she was either Turkish or Egyptian, but why she had run on shore it was difficult to say. The idea was that she had been purposely lost. In high glee at the thoughts of an adventure, the party shoved off from the frigate. Mr Thorn was directed to ascertain the character of the ship, and to render assistance if it was required. A light breeze from the westward enabled them to stand in under sail towards the shore. As they drew towards the wreck, they looked anxiously to ascertain her condition. She was on shore about a quarter of a mile from the beach. All the masts were gone, some of the guns had been hove overboard, others had their muzzles still appearing through the ports. Many of the crew were on board, but a considerable number had made their escape to the shore; their red caps and petticoat trousers showing that they were either Turks or Egyptians. As the boats got close up to the ship, the people on board began to gesticulate furiously, and it seemed with no very friendly intentions. Of this they gave proof, for they got some smaller guns on the quarter-deck slewed round, and began firing away at the boats. Fortunately their gunnery was very bad, or they might have cut them to pieces. On seeing this, Mr Thorn made a white pocket handkerchief fast to a boathook, and waved it towards them, but the barbarians seemed to hold a flag of truce in very little respect, as they continued firing as before. Just then, Rogers and Murray observed a young officer; he seemed to rush up from below and furiously attack the men with his sword, driving them from the gun. He then leaped up on the taffrail and waved his hand to them and shouted, but they were too far off to hear his voice.
“Murray, Murray, who do you think that is?” shouted Jack.
“I know who it is like,” answered Murray. “It is like—”
Just at that moment a terrific roar was heard. The entire vast mass of the wreck seemed to be lifted up bodily into the air. Up, up it went! Lurid flames and dense volumes of smoke burst forth, and then down came the huge mass shattered into a thousand fragments; beams, and guns, and planks, and human bodies, and the various contents of the ship all mingled together. A cry of horror escaped from the boats’ crews when they saw what had occurred.
“Pull for your lives, my lads,” shouted Mr Thorn. “Give way now.”
The men, recovering from their amazement, required no second order, but pulled away as hard as they could from the burning wreck. Happily they were no nearer, for in an instant afterwards, down came burning fragments of the wreck, covering the sea far and wide, the terrific shower almost swamping the boats. Although several pieces struck them, no one was materially injured. The whole occurrence occupied not a minute of time. The ship, however, continued burning furiously, and the guns in the fore part of her, which appeared not to have been blown up, as the flames reached them went rapidly off, one after the other, sending their shot whizzing away on either side.
“Some of the poor fellows may have escaped with their lives, and may be struggling in the water. Can’t we go back and try to pick them up!” said Jack to Hemming, who commanded his boat.
“A right notion—that we ought, Rogers,” answered Hemming, who was too high-minded even to refuse to take a suggestion offered by a junior. Hemming made the proposal to Mr Thorn, and back dashed the boats, not a man in them recollecting even for a moment that the people they were now so eager to save had but a few minutes before been most unwarrantably firing away at them. Jack, too, had a strange feeling that he knew the appearance of the young officer who had interposed in their favour, but still it was too vague to allow him to ground any strong hopes on it. Murray had, however, conceived the same idea. With what eagerness they pulled about looking out for their struggling fellow-creatures! First they hauled on board a stout Turk, who did not appear to be much the worse for his flight and ducking, except that he was, not unnaturally, in a dreadful fright, if he had conceived the idea that he had already entered Paradise, the big-whiskered jolly tars, instead of the houris he might have expected to welcome him, must quickly have shown him his mistake. He looked up with a stare of astonishment, as he was placed at the bottom of the boat. Another poor fellow had had his leg almost blown off, but still he clung on to a piece of plank. Hemming formed a tourniquet with a handkerchief to stop the bleeding, while a savage-looking fellow was being hauled in who even then cast a scowl of defiance and hatred at his preservers.
