Roger Kyffin's Ward

“The ‘Brilliant,’ Captain Everard, has just come in to refit, and is in want of hands. He’s a right sort of officer. If I wanted to go afloat, I would volunteer on board his ship as soon as any other,” remarked a seaman who was sitting opposite to them.

“What do you say, Harry? Would you like to volunteer on board the ‘Brilliant’?” asked Jacob.

“No, she would not suit me,” answered Harry. “I have my reasons for not wishing to join her.”

“Run from her, maybe, once in a time?” observed a seaman.

“Well, then there’s the ‘Nymph,’ Captain Cook. He’s a good seaman, and not over-harsh with his men; and there’s the ‘Saint Fiorenzo,’ Captain Sir Harry Neale. Never a man has sailed with him who’s worth his salt who would not wish to sail with him again. I wish there were many other captains in the navy like him. We should not have cause to complain as we have now.”

Harry and Jacob agreed therefore to volunteer on board the “Saint Fiorenzo.” While this discussion was going on Sally placed a smoking supper before her two lately arrived guests. They did ample justice to it, for although the cookery was of a somewhat coarser character than that to which Harry had been accustomed, his long walk had given him an appetite. He soon began to feel a great longing to lie down and go to sleep. For three nights, indeed, he had scarcely closed his eyes for ten minutes together. Even before he had finished supper his head began to nod. Jacob observed his condition, and asked Sally for a bed.

“Why,” was her reply, “every one I have got are more than full already; you must prick for the softest plank you can find. Not the first time either of you youngsters have had to do that.”

Jacob knew there was no use remonstrating, and so drawing a bench up to a corner of the room, he placed his bundle under Harry’s head, and led him to it. Scarcely had Harry stretched himself on the bench, hard as it was, than he was fast asleep. Jacob, however, was not so happy as he intended to be, and calling for come more liquor – he was not very particular what it was – he and his new friend opposite were soon engaged in plying each other with tumblers of grog.

There was a knocking at the door. Sally having by this time slept off some of her evening potations again went to it. Another seaman begged for admittance. He had nowhere to lodge, and he was afraid the press-gang who were about would be getting hold of him. He had plenty of shiners to spend, as Sally should soon know by the glitter of one with which he would at once cross her hand. This argument had great effect upon her gentle heart. Opening the door she admitted her visitor. He was a stout-looking man in a thick pea-coat, with a tarpaulin hat firmly fixed on his head, while his hand clutched a stout walking-stick. As she was about to close the door behind him great was her indignation to find a crowbar inserted. There was a trampling of feet. She shrieked out with several unfeminine oaths, “Murder! murder! the press-gang is upon us.” Her visitor, however, very ungallantly seized her by the arm as she attempted to close the door, and shoved a thick handkerchief into her mouth. In the meantime the door was forced completely back, and two or three men who had been lying down close under the walls, had sprung to their feet and entered with their leader. They were quickly joined by others of their party, who had been coming at a quick run down the street. In an instant the inmates were aroused, and the whole house was in a fearful uproar. Some tried to force their way out by a back door, but no sooner had they opened it than they found themselves in the power of a strong body of armed seamen. The men who were in bed threw on their clothes, some trying to jump from the windows; but seeing by the number of the press-gang outside that they would be certainly caught if they did so, rushed down-stairs and joined in the fray which was going forward in the public room. Some were armed with bludgeons, others with fire-irons; some seized chairs and benches, and various other articles of Sally’s furniture. She, to do her justice, with her female attendants, fought as heroically as her guests, in a vain endeavour to secure their personal safety.

Harry had slept through the first part of the combat, but at length the fearful uproar aroused him. He started to his feet, not knowing where he was or what had happened. The room was almost in total darkness, for the lights had instantly been extinguished, and only here and there fell the glare of the men-of-war’s men’s lanterns as they held them up in the hopes of distinguishing friends from foes. Harry seized Jacob’s bundle with one hand, and the stick with which he had carried it in the other, and attempted to defend himself from the blows which were dealt freely round. He thought he distinguished Jacob’s voice not far from him, and he made his way up to his friend. At that instant, however, a further party of the press-gang arriving, the seamen were completely overpowered. In vain Sally and her attendants fought on, in the hopes of enabling some of their friends to escape. Every outlet was too strictly guarded. The officer and many of the men composing the press-gang probably knew the house as well as its inmates, and had taken their measures accordingly.

In the course of a few minutes, although some heads had received pretty hard cracks, yet no blood was spilt, every man in the house, with the exception of old Tony Hoggart, was in the power of the press-gang. It was a most successful haul. Upwards of thirty prime seamen had been captured, Jacob and Harry among them. Not till the fight was over did old Tony find his way down-stairs, at the foot of which he stood with a light in his hand, his red nightcap set on one side of his bullet head, his trousers held up by one suspender, his stockingless feet in shoes down at heel, while from his blear eyes he glared out on the intruders into his abode. As if at length aware of what had occurred, he commenced a series of his vituperative remarks, which increased in vehemence as he proceeded, his curses and oaths being first directed towards the head of the officer in command of the party and his men, the captain of the ship, and the navy in general coming in for their share.

“We’re in for it, Harry,” said Jacob; “keep up your courage, however; if we put a good face on the matter, we shan’t be so much worse off than if we had volunteered. We can tell the first-lieutenant when he examines us to-morrow morning that we intended to do so. I’ll just learn what ship we have been taken for.”

Jacob made the inquiry of the seaman who had charge of him.

“The ‘Brilliant,’ Captain Everard,” was the answer; “he’s a good captain, and you may bless your stars that you have been taken for his ship.”

Harry’s heart sank when he heard this.

He would at once be recognised by the captain.

What account could he give of himself? The boats were in waiting in the harbour. The men hurried down to them immediately. Some resisting were dragged along. A cuff on the head, or a blow with the butt end of a pistol, generally silenced those who cried out in the hopes of being rescued.

Harry and Jacob walked along quietly. Neither were disposed to struggle. As soon as the prisoners were got into the boats they shoved off. In a quarter of an hour afterwards Harry found himself for the first time in his life on board a man-of-war.

Chapter Fifteen.

The Hero’s First Trip to Sea. – The Fate of the “Brilliant.”

Harry and the other pressed men stood for some time on the deck of the frigate, awaiting the appearance of the commanding officer. Harry dreaded his coming, believing that Captain Everard would immediately recognise him. At length an officer appeared from below, accompanied by the master-at-arms, who held a ship’s lantern in his hand. The officer commenced his inspection at the other end of the line. The light not falling on him, Harry could not see his features, but his figure was like that of the captain.

“I must brave it out,” he thought. “What shall I call myself? It must be a name I can recollect. Andrew Brown will, do as well as any other.”

Jacob was standing at a little distance from him. He had just time to step round and whisper, “I shall take the name of Andrew Brown,” before the officer approached. He was greatly relieved on finding it was not the captain. Jacob Tuttle gave his real name. He entered himself as Andrew Brown.

As soon as the inspection was over, the men were ordered down below, being told that they would be entered more regularly the next morning. They were told that they might lie down between the guns on the main deck, sentries being placed over them as if they were prisoners.

Harry was only too thankful to find a quiet spot where he might stretch his weary limbs and finish his slumbers, which had been so rudely broken during the first part of the night. He was too sleepy even to think. He dreamed that the fray was renewed, for the most strange, wild, and unearthly sounds assailed his ears: shrill whistles, hoarse bawlings, fierce oaths, the stamping of feet and rattling of ropes, and shouts of all sorts, creating the wildest uproar he had ever heard.

“Yes, he’s alive, only drunk, maybe,” said a gruff voice in his ear.

“No, he’s not drunk, only worn out pretty well, as you or I would be if we had not had a sleep for three or four nights. He’s young, you see.”

These words were spoken by Jacob Tuttle, who, putting his arm under Harry’s shoulders, helped him to get up, and saved him from knocking his head against the gun-carriage under which he had been sleeping. For some seconds he felt stupefied. The whole ship, which was so quiet when he lay down, was now in a state of what appeared to him the wildest confusion – officers issuing their orders in no very gentle voices or refined language, and men rushing here and there, stamping along the decks with their bare feet, swaying up yards, and bending sails, hoisting in stores, and lowering casks and cases into the hold. Harry, when he saw the number of men and size of the ship, began to hope that he might avoid the recognition of the captain.

“I’ll keep out of his way,” he thought, “and if Mabel does not tell him of my intention of going to sea, though he may think Andrew Brown very like Harry Tryon, he may possibly not dream of asking questions on the subject.”

After breakfast the first-lieutenant went through the usual examination of the pressed men, and entered them under different ratings in the ship’s books. In those days muscle and activity were the qualifications most valued. Harry was able to answer in a satisfactory way the questions put to him, and was at once rated as an able-bodied seaman, and, greatly to Jacob’s satisfaction, was placed in the same watch and mess with him.

“I’ll show you what to do, Harry,” he said, “and you’ll turn out as good a seaman as any on board.”

The following day the ship went out to Spithead.

Harry wrote two letters, no easy task amid the multitude of persons on board, male and female visitors of all sorts, at whose language and conduct Harry’s heart sickened. It was well that it did so. Better be disgusted with vice than witness it unconcerned. Very often our young sailor was interrupted, his paper saved with difficulty from profane hands. Still at last the letters were finished. One was to Mabel. He did not describe the scene by which he was surrounded. He told her simply that he had taken the final plunge, was now a seaman sworn to serve his king and country, but hoped soon to be an officer, entreating her not to mention his name to her father, and sent a message to Madam Everard and Paul Gauntlett. He entreated her to think kindly of him, and assured her that his own heart would be faithful to death.

Poor Mabel! the letter did not give her much pleasure. “As if I should ever cease to think of him,” she said to herself. “Oh, that he had been better guided.”

He wrote also to Mr Kyffin, directing the letter wisely to his private house, for he thought it more than probable that Silas Sleech would otherwise take possession of it. The letter was a long one, tolerably coherent on the whole. He confessed all that had occurred, made no excuses for himself, nor did he accuse Sleech. He dated his letter from the “Brilliant,” begging his guardian to reply to it, in the hope that an answer might reach him before the ship sailed. Day after day passed by, and no answer came.

Harry heard with some considerable trepidation that Captain Everard was expected on board. He saw his gig coming off. The sides were manned, and the captain passed through the gangway to the quarter-deck, touching his hat in return for the salute offered him by the marines drawn up on either side. He glanced his eye aloft, and then along the deck. Everything was in excellent order. Harry, who was nearer than he could have wished, stood his gaze steadily. He spoke a few words of approval to the first-lieutenant, and then went down below. Harry saw at a glance that Captain Everard on shore and Captain Everard in command of a frigate were two somewhat different characters. As the captain disappeared, Blue Peter was run up to the mast-head. It became generally known that the ship was to sail the next day; her destination, the North American Station and the West Indies. Harry’s heart sank when he heard this.

“I may be away then three, perhaps four long years,” he said to himself. “What changes may take place in the meantime! Yet I may have better opportunities of distinguishing myself than on the home station. I ought to be thankful.”

Harry, as he looked round the decks, could not conceive how order could ever spring out of the fearful disorder which had seemed to prevail.

The ship was crowded with visitors. Boats in great numbers hung alongside, in which the boatmen were quarrelling with each other, while eager Jews endeavoured to find their way on deck to obtain payment of debts which they alleged were due to them from the seamen. Harry had little fear at this time of being recognised, the captain being generally employed in the cabin. He was watching what was going forward, when he saw a wherry standing up under sail from the westward towards the ship.

“Is that the ‘Brilliant’?” asked a voice from the boat, in which sat three persons – the boatman, his boy, and a young woman.

“Ay, ay,” was the answer.

The sail was lowered and the boat stood up alongside.

“May I come on board?” asked a gentle female voice, as the boat reached the gangway ladder.

“That you may, and welcome,” was the answer; “but you will not have long to stay, as the ship’s going to sea directly.”

Harry thought he recognised the countenance of the speaker. Assisted up gallantly by the quartermaster stationed at the gangway, the young woman stood on the deck. She looked round with a somewhat scared and astonished gaze, but no sooner did her eye fall on Harry, who was watching her, than she ran towards him.

“Oh! Mr Tryon, is it you, indeed? Can you tell me if Jacob Tuttle is on board? He came away without telling me that he was again going to join his ship, and I only heard just now from a friend of his at Portsmouth that he was on board the ‘Brilliant.’ He would never wish, I know, to go and leave me without one farewell, and so I cannot make it out.”

Harry recognised in the speaker Mary Cull, Mabel’s trim little waiting-maid. Jacob was aloft at the time, engaged in some work on the maintop-gallant yard. He had been too busily occupied to see the different boats coming to the ship. Now, however, the task completed, he happened to cast his eyes down on deck, and even at that distance recognised the figure though he could not have seen the pretty features of Mary. He observed, however, that she was talking to Harry. The knife he was using, which hung round his neck by a rope yarn, was thrust into the breast of his shirt, and quick as lightning he came gliding down the backstay close to where the two were standing. Mary gave a shriek of terror when she saw him, thinking that he was falling. Before even she could utter another exclamation of alarm, he sprang nimbly on deck and stood by her side.

“Mary,” he said, “have you come to look for me? I would not have come away without wishing you good-bye if I had thought I was not going to be back again pretty soon, but I was pressed aboard this ship, and had no chance of going back to see you and mother. You know I am a poor hand at writing, and I could not ask my friend here to trouble himself about the matter, and so, Mary, that’s the long and the short of it. I love you, girl, that I do, and love you now more than I ever thought I would; but, Mary, I did not think you cared for me, that’s the truth on’t, and now I know you do,” and Jacob took Mary’s willing hand in his, and looked into her eyes with an honest glance which must have convinced her that he spoke the truth, whatever he might before have done.

“Jacob, I did not tell you I loved you before, because you did not ask me, but still I thought you knew I did, and as for Tom Hodson you was jealous of, I never cared a pin for him, and he’s gone and ’listed for a soldier.”

Harry listened to this conversation not unamused. He understood the whole history in a minute. Jacob had left home in a huff, jealous of the attentions Mary was receiving from a rival, and now he was going away, to be parted from her for many years, perhaps never to return. He could not help comparing Jacob’s position to his own. Poor Mary was in tears. Jacob was vowing with earnestness that he would from henceforth ever be faithful to her.

“No, Mary, no, I am going among negresses and foreigners, black and brown girls of all sorts, and do you think I would take up with one of them and leave you?” And Jacob laughed at his own suggestion. “No, that I would not, not to be made port admiral, nor a king on his throne either. Mary, I was a fool to come away and leave you and poor mother, but it’s too late now, I must go this cruise. The king himself could not get me off. There’s no use asking the captain. Why he would only laugh at me. If he was to let me go, half the ship’s company would want to go and marry their sweethearts. I tell you a plain and solemn truth, Mary; but cheer up, dear girl. Never fear, I will be true and faithful to you.”

Mary was too much occupied with her own grief to think much of Harry. However, she at last turned towards him.

“Mr Tryon,” she said, “are you going, too? Surely that cannot be. What shall I tell Miss Mabel?”

“Tell her, Mary, what Jacob has said to you. I trust the time will quickly pass. I hope to do my duty faithfully to my king and country, and to obey my captain.”

Mary was about to ask further questions, but the boatswain’s whistle was heard, uttering the stern order for all visitors to leave the ship. Jacob gave Mary an affectionate embrace, and assisted her down the side, Harry especially being very unwilling to detain her lest she should be seen by the captain. She had come away, Jacob told him, having got a holiday for a week to see her friends. The boatman, who knew Jacob, wished him farewell, for though he stared at Harry, he did not appear to recognise him in the dress of a seaman, so different to what he had been accustomed to wear. In a few minutes afterwards the merry pipe was sounding. Harry and others were tramping round with the capstan-bars, and the anchor was slowly hove up to the bows. The proud frigate, under all sail, stood down the Solent toward the Needle passage.

Harry turned his aching eyes toward Lynderton as the frigate glided by. Though the sea was bright, the air fresh, and everything round him looked beautiful, his heart sank low, and often and often he bitterly repented the step he had taken. He quickly, however, learned his duty as a seaman, and Captain Everard more than once remarked to the first-lieutenant that he had seldom seen a more active and promising lad.

“You speak of Andrew Brown, sir?” was the answer. “Yes, he’s one of our pressed men, but he at once seemed reconciled to his fate. He will make a prime seaman.”

“Curious, I cannot help fancying that I have seen him before,” observed the captain, “or else he is very like a lad I know, of a family residing in my part of the country. However, that is fancy.”

Probably from that moment Captain Everard thought little more of the likeness between Andrew Brown and Harry Tryon.

The frigate met with remarkably fine weather during her passage across the Atlantic. As she neared the American coast, however, thick weather came on – such as is often found in those latitudes. It was night. The starboard watch was on deck – that to which Jacob and Harry belonged. The ship was under easy sail – a fresh breeze but fair. The captain was below. A bright look-out ought to have been kept, but bright look-outs are not always kept, even on board men-of-war.

“How cold it feels,” observed Harry to Jacob. “What’s that white cloud ahead?”

Scarcely had the words left his mouth than there was a fearful crash. Every timber quivered. Down came the foremast. The bowsprit also was carried away.

“She’s on an iceberg!” was shouted out.

Dismay seized the hearts of the stoutest. In an instant all was confusion and disorder. In the midst of it, a voice sounding above even the wild uproar ordered the men to their stations. The ship had bounded off, and now glided by, leaving the iceberg on the starboard side. Still the sea drove her against the base. Twice she struck with fearful violence. The mainmast followed the foremast, speedily carrying the mizenmast with it. The gallant frigate lay a helpless wreck on the dark tossing waters. The captain ordered the carpenter and his mates to sound the well. In a few short minutes he reported ten feet of water in the hold, increasing fast. Starboard bow stove in, many planks alongside ripped off! The ship must inevitably founder.

In an unskaken voice the captain announced the dreadful fact.

“Remain calm and collected, and do your duty to the last, lads,” he cried.

Orders were given to get out the boats.

Rafts also must be made, though there was short time for building them. The crew worked with a will. Had they been wearied out with pumping they might have given in. They had good reason now for working hard. The ship laboured heavily. The officers and many of the older seamen knew well, from the slow heavy movements, that she had not long to float. The carpenter by another report confirmed their fears. Harry, with other seamen, was engaged in making a raft on the quarter-deck. It was smaller than the rest, and nearly completed. The captain’s voice was again heard ordering the boats to be lowered without delay. While the men were engaged in obeying the order the stern of the frigate seemed to lift up. Down sank the bows, and with one awful plunge the proud frigate rushed downward into the ocean depths. A wild cry arose, such as even the bravest utter in a moment of extreme peril. Jacob and Harry leaped on the small raft. The grey dawn had just before broke. Some of the larger rafts, not yet completed, were sucked down with the sinking ship. Several boats suffered the same fate. Others were swamped. The small raft was whirled round and round, a few men clinging to it, Harry and Jacob among them keeping their hold. Here and there were despairing faces gazing their last at the sky ere they sank beneath the water. Now and then an arm was seen uplifted grasping at air. Broken spars and planks escaped from the unfinished rafts, drowning men clinging to them, though many of those who clung there soon dropped off.

Harry and Jacob had helped three shipmates to climb up on to the raft. Not far off a man was struggling to gain a spar which floated near. Even by that light he was seen to be an officer.

“It’s the captain!” cried Harry; “I must save him.”

Springing from the raft, he swam out towards the captain. The officer was close to a spar, but his hand failed to clutch it, and he sank. Harry dived rapidly. His hand grasped the captain’s collar, and with an upward stroke he returned to the surface. He looked around. The spar was not an arm’s length from him. Placing the captain across it, he pushed it towards the raft. The captain was saved from immediate death. But what prospect had those poor fellows, on that small raft out on the stormy ocean, of being saved? No sail was in sight. One boat only had escaped destruction. She was already at some distance. Those in her did not perceive the raft. Already, probably, she was overloaded. Soon a sail was hoisted and she stood away to the westward. The saddest sight of all was to see the poor fellows clinging to the pieces of wreck one by one dropping off. The sun rose, the mist cleared away. Six men on the raft alone remained on the waste of waters.