Percival Keene

“Stop him! fader; don’t let him go away,” cried she in Dutch; “it is he! it is he!”

“Who, my child?” asked the old gentleman.

“The pirate-boy,” replied the little girl, bursting into a paroxysm of tears, on my shoulders.

“Mein Gott! it cannot be; he was black, my child; yet,” continued the old gentleman, looking at me, “he is like him. Tell me, sir, are you our preserver?”

“Yes,” replied I, “I was; but that is of little consequence now. Will you oblige me by removing this young lady?” continued I, for I was highly offended.

“Sir, I ask your pardon,” replied the old gentleman; “but I am not to blame. How could I recognise you in a white person when you were so dark-coloured at our meeting on board of that vessel? I am not to blame; indeed I am not, my dear young friend. I would have given ten thousand rix dollars to have met you, that I might prove my gratitude for your noble defence of us, and our preservation at such a risk. Come, sir, you must forgive the mistake of an old man, who was certainly not inclined to be civil to an officer who belonged to the squadron, who had within these few days so humiliated us by their astonishing bravery and success. Let my little girl, whose life you saved, persuade you, if I cannot.”

In the mean time the little girl had dropped from my shoulder, and was on the floor, embracing my knees, and still sobbing. I felt convinced that what the old gentleman said was true, and that he had not recognised me. I had forgotten that I had been stained dark at the time that I had met them on board of the Stella.

I therefore held out my hand to the old gentleman, and raising the little girl, we all three went in together to where we had found the old gentleman on my first introduction to him.

“If you knew how delighted I am to see you, and be able to express my thanks,” said Mynheer Vanderwelt, “and poor Minnie too. How often have we talked over that dreadful day, and wondered if ever we should see you again. I assure you, on my honour, that now I no longer regret the capture of the island.”

Minnie stood by me during the time her father was speaking, her large blue eyes beaming through the tears with which they brimmed; and as I turned to her, our eyes met, and she smiled. I drew her towards me. She appeared as if she only required some encouragement, for she immediately kissed me several times on the cheek nearest to her, every now and then saying a word or two in Dutch to her father, which I could not understand.

I hardly need say, that after this, intimacy was soon brought about. If I thought that at first I had been treated with ingratitude, ample amends was made afterwards.

The old gentleman said during the evening, “Good heaven! if my daughter’s eyes had not been sharper than mine; if you had gone away, thinking that I did not choose to recognise you—had I found it out afterwards, it would have broken my heart, and poor Minnie’s too. Oh! I am grateful—very grateful to God that it was not so.”

That I passed a very pleasant evening the reader may imagine. The household who had been told who I was, appeared to almost worship me. The old gentleman asked me a hundred questions as to my parentage, etcetera, about Captain Delmar and the service, and begged of me to remain with him altogether while the frigate was in port. I told him that was impossible, but that I would come as often as I could obtain leave. At nine o’clock I bade them good night, and was escorted to the boat by six of the slaves carrying lanterns.

Captain Delmar, as well as all the other captains of the frigates, had taken up his quarters on shore for the harbour was so narrow and landlocked, that the heat on board was excessive. I found that the next day old Mr Vanderwelt had paid his respects to Captain Delmar, giving him an account of what had occurred on board of the pirate much more flattering to me than what I had stated myself. The steward was present at the time, and he had told Bob Cross, who communicated it to me. Mynheer Vanderwelt had also begged as a favour that I might be permitted to stay on shore with him during the time that the frigate was in harbour, but to this Captain Delmar had not consented, promising, however, that I should have occasional leave when the service would permit of it.

The reader may recollect that the island of Curaçao had been surrendered to the English in 1800, and restored to the Dutch in 1802. During that interval several English merchants had settled there and remained after the restoration, and now at the second capture we found them still on the island. From these we received the information that Mr Vanderwelt was the richest man on the island, and that the Dutch government was indebted to him in very large sums; that he had long retired from business, although he had large property in the Havannah, which he received with his wife, who had been a Spanish lady, and that it was his intention to have gone back to Holland by the first man-of-war which should have arrived.

We remained three weeks at Curaçao, during which time the first lieutenant gave me leave to go on shore almost every evening after the captain had dismissed his gig, and to remain at Mr Vanderwelt’s till half-past eight the following morning, when I joined my boat, and attended on the captain. By this plan my duty was not interfered with, and I had many pleasant meetings with my new friends, and became, as may be imagined, very intimate with little Minnie.

I may as well describe her. She was about ten years old, tall for her age; she was very fair, with deep blue eyes, and very dark hair; her countenance was very animated and expressive, and she promised to be a very handsome woman. Her father doted upon her, for he had no other child; he had married late in life, and his wife had died a few days after Minnie was born. She was very affectionate in disposition, and very sweet-tempered; up to the present she had received but little education, and that was one principal reason for Mr Vanderwelt’s wishing to return to Holland. I soon became as one of the family, and certainly was treated as such.

Minnie was very curious to know what it was that I carried about my neck in the seal-skin pouch, but I never could tell either her or her father what it really was. Mr Vanderwelt very often asked me if I liked being at sea, and I invariably replied in the affirmative.

At last the frigate was to sail, and I had but one more evening to pass with them. Mr Vanderwelt appeared very grave, and little Minnie would every now and then during the evening burst into tears at the idea of our separation.

At last the hour of parting arrived—it was very painful. I promised to write to them, and Mr Vanderwelt told me that his house was always ready to receive me, and begged that if I wanted anything I would let him know.

I cried, myself, when I left the house—the first time that I ever cried, I believe, on such an occasion. The next morning we were again under weigh, to rejoin the admiral at Jamaica.

Bob Cross had told me that he wished to have a little talk with me in the first watch, and I met him on the gangway, our usual rendezvous.

“Master Keene, I have some news for you, which I gained from the steward last night. I will say, that his ears are always open; not that I think he is generally what is called an eavesdropper but he likes you, and when you are concerned, he does care to find out what is going on. Now you see, sir, that Dutch gentleman whom you saved from the nigger pirate came to call on Captain Delmar yesterday morning, and, after some palaver, he told the captain that he wished you to remain with him altogether, and leave his majesty’s service; and he begged the captain to allow you to be discharged, and then he would be a father to you, as you had no father. There was a great deal more which the steward could not make out, but it was all to that effect. Well, the captain said that it was very true that you had lost your father but that he considered you as his own son, and could not part with you on any account; and he stated that you were so promising an officer, that it be very wrong that you should leave the service, and that it must not be thought of. The old gentleman said a great deal, and tried very hard to persuade the captain, but it was of no use. The captain said he would never let you go till you were a post-captain and commanded a fine frigate, and then you would of course be your own master, and act as you please.”

“I am very glad to hear all this, Bob, I can assure you.”

“Yes, sir, it is very good news: but, Master Keene, I only hope, knowing Captain Delmar as you do, that you will act towards him as if you had never heard it.”

“I will, depend upon it, Cross. As for leaving the service, that I would not have done even if Captain Delmar had agreed to it. I’m an Englishman, and I don’t want to be under Dutch protection.”

“That’s right, sir—that’s right—just as I wished you to feel. How time flies away. Why, Master Keene, you have been afloat nearly three years.”

“Within a month, Bob.”

“And you’re growing such a tall fellow, they won’t keep you much longer in the captain’s gig, I expect: I shall be sorry for that. So Master Tommy Dott is in another scrape.”

“How?—I heard nothing of it.”

“No, because it’s only within this half-hour that he’s got in it.”

“Tell me.”

“Why, sir, Mr Culpepper had fallen fast asleep on the gunroom table, under the skylight, which, as you know, is always open, and his head had fallen back, and his mouth was wide open: there was no other officer in the gun-room except Mr Culpepper: and Tommy Dott, who perceived him, asked Timothy Jenkins, the maintop-man, to give him a quid of tobacco; well, Jenkins takes it out of his cheek, red-hot, as you may suppose, and hands it to Master Tommy, who takes his perpendicular very accurately, and drops the quid into the purser’s open mouth.

“Mr Culpepper was almost choked, but after a terrible coughing, the quid comes up again; notwithstanding, he turns as sick as a dog, and is obliged to run to the basin in his cabin. Well, sir, as soon as he comes out again, he goes up under the half deck, and inquires of the sentry who it was that did it; and the sentry, who is that sulky fellow, Martin, instead of knowing nothing about it, says directly, it was Master Tommy; and now there’s a formal complaint made by Mr Culpepper on the quarter-deck, and Master Tommy will get it as sure as a gun.”

“He don’t know how to play a trick,” replied I; “he is always found out and punished: the great point is, not to be discovered—that’s the real pleasure in playing a trick.”

“Well, you certainly do manage well, Master Keene; but I think it’s almost time you left them off now, you’re getting an oldster. Why, you must be seventeen, sir?”

“Yes, Bob, not very far from it.”

“Well, I suppose I must say Mister Keene for the future.”

“You may call be what you like, Bob; you have been a good friend to me.”

“Well, sir, I only hope that Captain Delmar will make you a post-captain, as he says, and that you’ll get a fine frigate, and I’ll be your coxswain; but that’s a long way to look to, and we shan’t have any more councils of war on the gangway then.”

“No; but we may in the cabin, Cross.”

“A large sail on the starboard bow,” cried the look-out man forward.

“A large sail on the starboard bow,” reported the mate of the watch.

My glass was on the capstern, and I ran for it, and went forward to examine the vessel, although my duty as signal midshipman was ended at sunset.

“What do you make of it, Mr Keene?” said the officer of the watch.

“I think she is a man-of-war; but it is so dark, that I cannot make her out very clearly.”

“Is she standing this way?”

“Yes, sir, under top-sails and top-gallant-sails, I think.”

The officer of the watch went down to report to the captain, who had not yet turned into his cot. Captain Delmar had been informed that a Dutch frigate was expected at the island, but not until the following month; still we had no reason to suppose that there were any of our frigates down in these latitudes, except those lying in the harbour at Curaçao. The wind was light, about a three knot breeze, and there being no moon till after twelve o’clock, it was very difficult to make out what she was. Some said she was a two-decked vessel. The captain went down to look at his private signals for the night, and before he came up I was all ready with the lanterns.

“Two lights over one in a triangle; be quick, Mr Keene.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied I.

The lights were soon hoisted at the peak, but as they could not well be seen by the other vessel, as we were standing towards her, we went about and hove to across her hawse. For a quarter of an hour she continued to stand towards us without noticing the signals; at last the captain said, “They must be all asleep on board of the vessel.”

“No, Captain Delmar,” replied I, keeping my telescope on the vessel, “they are not all asleep, for I saw lights on the main-deck through the bow-ports. I see them again now.”

“So do I,” said the first lieutenant.

“Then we’ll beat to quarters, Mr Hippesley,” rejoined the captain.

The men were summoned to quarters, and hammocks piped up and stowed in a very short time, the guns cast loose, and every man at his post (but the ports not opened), waiting the coming down of the stranger, now about a mile distant, when suddenly she rounded to the wind on the same tack that we were, and set her royals and flying-jib.

“She does not answer our signals,” observed the captain: “I suspect by that and her present manoeuvre she must be an enemy.”

“I have no doubt of it, sir,” observed the first lieutenant; “an English frigate would not behave in that way.”

“Open the ports and get up the fighting lanterns, then,” said the captain; for, up to the present, we had been careful not to show any lights.

It was now plain to see that her men were at their quarters and that she was prepared for action. When everything was ready on deck, the royals and flying-jib were set, and we gave chase. The strange vessel was about three-quarters of a mile on our weather-beam; in half an hour we had gained upon her considerably, and our sailing was so superior that we were satisfied, should she prove an enemy, that in an hour more we should be engaged.

Of course, we might have engaged her at the distance we were from her, but you cannot be too careful in a night action, and ought never to engage without first hailing the vessel to make sure that she is an enemy, as circumstances may, and have occurred by which an English vessel may not be able to answer the private signal, and, of course, a vessel belonging to a neutral power would be in the same position.

The incertitude which existed as to whether the strange vessel was an enemy or not created great excitement. My duty, as signal midshipman, placed me abaft on the quarter-deck, and Bob Cross, who was really a quarter-master, although doing duty as captain’s coxswain, was at the wheel.

At last we had brought the chase well on our weather quarter, and when we tacked we found that we lay well up, she being about a point on our lee bow. Another half-hour brought us within two cables’ length of her, when we kept away, so as to pass her to leeward, close enough to have thrown a biscuit on board. The stranger still remaining on the opposite tack, Captain Delmar then hailed from the gangway—

“Ship, a-hoy!”

There was a death-like silence on board of both vessels, and his voice pierced sonorously through the night wind.

“Ah! yaw!” was the reply.

“What ship is that?” continued Captain Delmar.

During this time every man was at his gun; the captains, with the lanyards of the locks in their hands, ready to pour in a broadside.

The reply from the other vessel was—“Vat chip is dat?”

“His Britannic Majesty’s ship Calliope,” replied Captain Delmar; and then he repeated—“What ship is that? Let every man lie down at his quarters,” said Captain Delmar. The order was hardly obeyed, when the stranger frigate poured in her broadside, and as we were then very close, with great execution to our hull and rigging: but as the men had been lying down, very few of them were hurt.

As soon as the crash was over, Captain Delmar cried out—“Up, men, and fire, as I round to under her stern.”

In a few seconds we had passed through the volumes of smoke, and luffed up under her stern: we poured in our whole broadside.

“Let her go off again—flatten in there forward. Reedy about,” was the next order given.

We ran away from her about three cables’ length, until we had sufficient way to tack, and then we went about and stood towards her, steering for her weather quarter, as if we were going to engage her to windward.

“Over to the larboard guns, my lads. Hands by, after bracings and howlings, Mr Hippesley.”

“Aye, aye, sir, all ready.”

As soon as we were near enough, the after-yards were shivered, the jib sheet to windward, and the helm put up. The Calliope worked beautifully; she paid sharp off, and we again passed under her stern, and gave another raking broadside; very unexpected on the part of the Dutchman, who presumed that we were going to engage him to windward, and had his men all ready at his larboard guns in consequence.

The Dutch captain was evidently much annoyed: he stood at the taffrail, and, much to our amusement, cried out, in bad English, “You coward—not fight fair.”

As we shot ahead of her, to leeward, she gave us a portion of her starboard broadside: but the men, having been over at the guns on the other side, were not quick enough, and they did us no injury; whereas, her mizzen-mast fell over the side a few minutes after we passed her.

She then raid off, and so did we, so that she might not rake us, and broadsides were exchanged on equal terms; but before we had exchanged these broadsides, both ships running with the wind on the quarter, we found that our superiority in sailing free was so great, that we shot ahead of him out of his fire, and we were enabled to luff up and rake him again.

The last raking broadside brought down his main-topmast and then she was all our own, as Bob Cross said; as she could not round to with no after sail, and we could from our superiority in sailing, take our position as we pleased, which we did, constantly keeping ahead of him, and raking him, broadside after broadside, and receiving but one broadside in return, until his foremast went by the board, and he had nothing but his main-mast standing.

This bettered his condition on the whole; as, although hardly manageable with so little wind, he had more power over his vessel, as far as rounding to the wind, which he did, and the action continued; but our fighting under sail gave us great advantage, and although an occasional shot would come in, and we had to carry some men into the cockpit, for one shot we received, we certainly returned ten. The action had continued about an hour, when, by the continual cannonading, the light wind was beaten down, and it fell dead calm. This put us again upon a more equal footing, as the Calliope had not steerage way.

We were then about a quarter of a mile apart, lying head and stern; but both ships had fallen off during the calm, so that only the quarter guns of each could be brought to bear. The major portion of the ship’s company being, therefore, not able to use their guns, were employed in repairing the damages we had received, which were very considerable, especially in the sails and rigging.

I was standing by Bob Cross, who was looking out for cats’ paws, as we call slight breaths of wind, when he said in a low voice:—

“Master Keene, I never had an idea that the captain could handle his ship so well: he really knows what he’s about as well as any man in the service.”

“I thought so, too,” replied I. “Whew! there’s a nasty shot,” cried I, as one came in and upset half a dozen of the marines, who were hauling upon the mizzen-topsail sheet, which had just been spliced.

“Yes, sir, that chap is made of good stuff, depend upon it—all the Dutchmen are: if they could only keep their hands out of their breeches pockets, they would be rummer customers than they are now; as it is, they are not to be played with; and, depend upon it, we’re a long way off having him yet: we must pray for wind to come up and he must pray for the calm to continue.”

“Where’s Mr Keene?” said the captain, who was on the other side of the deck.

“Here, sir,” said I, running up and touching my hat.

“Mr Keene, go down quietly and ascertain how many men we have hurt: the doctor will be able to tell you pretty nearly.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied I, and I dived down below; just as I did so, a shot came in and cut away the lower rail of the copper stanchions which were round the hatchway, about a foot beyond my hat: had I not gone down so quickly, it would have taken my head off.

I went down into the gun-room, for the doctor preferred being there to the cockpit, as there was so much more room to operate, and I gave him the captain’s message.

He was very busy taking off a poor fellow’s leg. It was a horrible sight and made me sick and faint. As soon us the bone had been sawed off, he said—

“You will find all the wounded I have dressed in the steerage; those they have brought me down dead are in the cockpit. There have been five amputations already the master is badly wounded, and Mr Williams the mate, is killed: those whom I have not been able to attend to yet, are here in the gun-room. You must ascertain what the captain wishes to know yourself, Mr Keene. I cannot, leave a leg with the arteries not taken up, to count heads. Mr Rivers, the tenaculum—ease the tourniquet, now.”

As I felt what the doctor said to be true, I got a lantern and commenced my examinations. I found fourteen wounded men waiting the doctor’s care in the gun-room, which was almost a pool of blood. In the steerage there were nine who had been dressed, and four in their hammocks, who had undergone amputation of the arm or leg. I then went down into the cockpit, where I counted eleven of our best men lying dead. Having obtained the information required, I was proceeding up the cockpit ladder, when I turned towards the purser’s steward’s room, and saw Mr Culpepper, the purser, on his knees before a lantern; he looked very pale—he turned round and saw me.

“What’s the matter?” cried he.

“Nothing, sir; only the captain wishes to know how many men are killed and wounded.”

“Tell him I do not know: surely he does not want me on deck?”

“He wants to know how many men are hurt, sir,” replied I, for I perceived that he thought that the message was sent to him.

“Mercy on me! Stop a minute, Mr Keene, and I’ll send up word by you.”

“I can’t stop, sir,” replied I, going up the ladder.

Mr Culpepper would have called me back, but I preferred leaving him in his error, as I wished to see which he most dreaded, the captain’s displeasure or the shot of the enemy.

I returned on deck and made my report. The captain looked very grave, but made no reply.

I found that the two frigates were now lying stern to stern, and firing occasional guns, which raked fore and aft. Except the men who worked the guns aft, our people were lying down at their quarters, by the order of the captain.

“If we only had but a capful of wind,” said the captain to the first lieutenant, “but I see no appearance of it.”

I touched my hat and said, “The moon will rise in about ten minutes, sir, and she often brings the wind up with her.”

“That’s true, Mr Keene, but it’s not always the case. I only hope she will; if not, I fear we shall lose more of our men.”

The firing continued, and our main-mast had received so many shots, that we were obliged to hold it for its support. While so employed, the moon rose, and the two vessels had now a good view of each other. I directed my glass to the horizon under the moon, and was delighted to perceive a black line, which promised wind; I reported it to the master, and the promise was kept good, for in a quarter of an hour our sails flapped, and then gradually filled.

“She has steerage way, sir,” reported Bob Cross.

“Thank Heaven for that,” replied Captain Delmar. “Jump up, men. Brace round the yards, Mr Hippesley.”

“The enemy’s main yard is cut in two in the slings, sir,” reported I, after I had my glass upon her.

“Then her last hope is gone,” replied Mr Hippesley. “Haul over the starboard jib-sheet forward—let her come to, quartermaster. Larboard guns, my lads.”