As the conflict of words came to an end, a roar of laughter burst from the sailors at the next mess-table.
“Well done, little bantam!” one said; “you have taken that lout down a good many pegs, and I would not mind backing you to thrash him single-handed. We have noticed his goings-on for the past two or three days with the other boys, and had intended to give him a lesson, but you have done it right well. He may have been on a voyage before, but I would wager that he has never been aloft, and I would back you to be at the masthead before he has crawled through the lubbers’ hole. Now, my lad, just you understand that if you are ready to fight both those boys we won’t interfere, but if you try it one on one of them we will.”
The boys’ duties consisted largely of working with the watch to which they were attached, of scrubbing decks, and cleaning brass-work. In battle their place was to bring up the powder and shot for the guns. On the second day, when the work was done, Will Gilmore went up to the boatswain.
“If you please, sir,” he said, “may I go up the mast?”
The boatswain looked at him out of one eye.
“Do you really want to learn, lad?”
“I do, sir.”
“Well, when there are, as at present, other hands aloft, you may go up, but not at other times.”
“Thank you, sir!”
Will at once started. He was accustomed to climb the mast of John Hammond’s boat, but this was a very different matter. From scrambling about the cliffs so frequently he had a steady eye, and could look down without any feeling of giddiness. The lubbers’ hole had been pointed out to him, but he was determined to avoid the ignominy of having to go up through it. When he got near it he paused and looked round. It did not seem to him that there was any great difficulty in going outside it, and as he knew he could trust to his hands he went steadily up until he stood on the main-top.
“Hallo, lad,” said a sailor who was busy there, “do you mean to say that you have come up outside?”
“Yes, there did not seem to be any difficulty about it.”
“And is it the first time you have tried?”
“Yes.”
“Then one day you will turn out a first-rate sailor. What are you going to do now?”
Will looked up.
“I am going up to the top of the next mast.”
“You are sure that you won’t get giddy?”
“Yes, I am accustomed to climbing up the cliffs on the Yorkshire coast, and I have not the least fear of losing my head.”
“Well, then, fire away, lad, and if you find that you are getting giddy shout and I will come up to you.”
“Thank you! I will call if I want help.”
Steadily he went up till he stood on the cap of the topmast.
“I may as well go up one more,” he said. “I can’t think why people make difficulties of what is so easy.”
The sailor called to him as he saw him preparing to ascend still higher, but Will only waved his hand and started up. When he reached the cap of the top-gallant mast he sat upon it and looked down at the harbour. Presently he heard a hail from below, and saw the first lieutenant standing looking up at him.
“All right, sir! I will come down at once,” and steadily he descended to the maintop, where the sailor who had spoken to him abused him roundly. Then he went to where the lieutenant was standing.
“How old are you, youngster?”
“I am a little past fifteen, sir.”
“Have you ever been up a mast before?”
“Never, sir, except that I have climbed up a fishing-boat’s mast many a time, and I am accustomed to clambering about the cliffs. I hope there was no harm in my going so high?”
“No harm as it has turned out. You are a courageous little fellow; I never before saw a lad who went outside the lubbers’ hole on his first ascent. Well, I hope, my lad, that you will be as well-behaved as you are active and courageous. I shall keep my eye upon you, and you have my permission henceforth, when you have no other duties, to climb about the masts as you like.”
The lieutenant afterwards told the captain of Will’s exploit.
“That is the sort of lad to make a good topman,” the captain remarked. “He will soon be up to the duties, but will have to wait to get some beef on him before he is of much use in furling a sail.”
“I am very glad to have such a lad on board,” said the lieutenant. “If we are at any station on the Mediterranean, and have sports between the ships, I should back him against any other boy in the fleet to get to the masthead and down again.”
One of the midshipmen, named Forster, came up to Will when he left the lieutenant, and said: “Well done, young un! It was as much as I could do at your age, though I had been two years in the navy, to climb up where you did. If there is anything I can do for you at any time I will gladly do it. I don’t say that it is likely, for midshipmen have no power to speak of; still, if there should be anything I would gladly help you.”
“There is something, if you would be so very good, sir. I am learning navigation, but there are some things that I can’t make out, and it would be a kindness indeed if you would spare a few minutes occasionally to explain them to me.”
The midshipman opened his eyes.
“Well, I am blowed,” he exclaimed in intense astonishment. “The idea of a newly-joined boy wanting to be helped in navigation beats me altogether. However, lad, I will certainly do as you ask me, though I cannot think that, unless you have been at a nautical school, you can know anything about it. But come to me this evening during the dog-watches, and then I will see what you have learned about the subject.”
That evening Will went on deck rather shyly with two or three of his books. The midshipman was standing at a quiet spot on the deck. He glanced at Will enquiringly when he saw what he was carrying.
“Do you mean to say that you understand these books?”
“Not altogether, sir. I think I could work out the latitude and longitude if I knew something about a quadrant, but I have never seen one, and have no idea of its use. But what I wanted to ask you first of all was the meaning of some of these words which I cannot find in the dictionary.”
“It seems to me, youngster, that you know pretty well as much as I do, for I cannot do more than fudge an observation. How on earth did you learn all this? I thought you were a fisher-boy before you joined.”
“So I was, sir. I was an orphan at the age of five. My father left enough money to buy a boat, and, as one of the fishermen had lately lost his, he adopted me, and I became bound to him as an apprentice till I was fourteen. The clergyman’s daughter took a fancy to me from the first, and she used to teach me for half an hour a day, which gave me a great advantage over the other boys in the school. I was very fond of reading, and she supplied me with books. As I said I meant to go to sea, she bought me some books that would help me. So there is nothing extraordinary in my knowing these things; it all came from her kindness to me for ten years.”
“Why didn’t she try to get you into the mercantile marine?”
“She got married and left the place, sir, but before she went she told me that it was very wrong to have anything to do with smugglers. So I decided to give it up, and that set the whole village against me, and I should probably have been killed if I had not taken refuge in the coast-guard station. There the officer in charge spoke to me of joining the royal navy, and it seemed to me that it would do me good to serve a few years in it; for I could afterwards, if I chose, pass as an officer in the merchant service.”
“You are the rummest boy that I ever came across,” Forster said. “Well, I must think it over. Now, if there is anything that you specially wish to know, I will explain it to you.”
For half an hour they talked together, and the midshipman solved many of the problems that had troubled the lad. Then with many thanks Will went below.
“Is it true, Will,” Tom Stevens said, “that you have been right up the mast?”
“Not exactly, Tom, but I went up to the top of the top-gallant mast.”
“But why did you do that?”
“I wanted to get accustomed to going up. There was not a bit of difficulty about it, except that it was necessary to keep a steady head. You could do it just as well as I, for we have climbed about the cliffs together scores of times.”
“Do you think it will do any good, Will?”
“Yes, I think so. When they see that a fellow is willing and anxious to learn, it is sure to do him good in the long run. It will help him on, and perhaps in two or three years he may get rated as an able seaman, and no longer be regarded as a boy, useful only to do odd jobs. One of the midshipmen is going to give me some help with my navigation. I wish, Tom, you would take it up too, but I am afraid it would be no use. You have got to learn a tremendous lot before you can master it, and what little you were taught at our school would hardly help you at all.”
“I know that well enough, Will, and I should never think of such a thing. I always was a fool, and could hardly take in the little that old woman tried to teach us. No, it is of no use trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. I hope that soon I shall be able to hit a good round blow at a Frenchman; that is about all I shall be fit for, though I hope I may some day get to be a smart topman. The next time you climb the mast I will go with you. I don’t think there is enough in my head to make it unsteady. At any rate I think that I can promise that I won’t do anything to bring discredit upon you.”
The feat that Will had performed had a great effect upon the bully of the mess. Before that he had frequently enjoyed boasting of his experience in climbing, and even hinted that he had upon one occasion reached the masthead. Now no more was heard of this, for, as Tom said openly, he was afraid that Will might challenge him to a climbing-match. The next evening the first lieutenant said to the captain: “That other lad who was brought down from Yorkshire has been up the mast with his chum this afternoon. As I told you, sir, I heard that they were great friends, and Stevens did as well as the other.”
“But there is a great difference between them. The one is as sharp and as bright as can be; the other is simply a solidly-built fisher-boy who will, I have no doubt, make a good sailor, but is not likely to set the Thames on fire.”
“Do you know, sir, Mr. Forster came to me this morning, and told me that on his talking to the boy he astounded him by asking if he would be kind enough to explain a few things in navigation, as he had pretty well mastered all the book-work, but had had no opportunity of learning the use of a quadrant. Forster asked if I had any objection to his giving him lessons. It is the first time that I ever heard of such a request, and to allow it would be contrary to all idea of discipline; still, a lad of that sort deserves encouragement, and I will talk with the padre concerning him. He is one of the most good-natured of men, and I think he would not mind giving a quarter of an hour a day to this boy, after he has dismissed the midshipmen from their studies. Of course he must do the same work as the other boys, and no distinction must be made between them.”
“Certainly not. I think the idea is an excellent one, and I have not much doubt that Mr. Simpson will fall in with it.”
The first lieutenant went off at once to find the clergyman.
“Well, he must be a strange boy,” the chaplain said when the case was laid before him; “I should not be surprised if a fellow like that found his way to the quarter-deck some day. He appears to be a sort of admirable Crichton. Such an amount of learning is extraordinary in a boy of his age and with his opportunities, especially in one active and courageous enough to go up to the cap of the top-gallant mast on his first trial in climbing a mast. Certainly I shall be very glad to take the boy on, and will willingly give him, as you say, a quarter of an hour a day. I feel sure that my time will not be wasted. I never before heard of a ship’s boy who wished to be instructed in navigation, and I shall be glad to help such an exceptional lad.”
The next day the Furious, having received all her stores, went out to Spithead. The midshipmen had been all fully engaged, and there were no lessons with the padre, but on the following day these were resumed, and presently one of the other boys came down with a message that Will was to go to the padre’s cabin.
“I have arranged, lad,” the chaplain said when he entered, “to give you a quarter of an hour a day to help you on with your navigation, and I take it that you, on your part, are ready to do the work. It seems to me almost out of the question that you can be advanced enough to enter upon such studies. That, however, I shall soon ascertain. Now open that book and let me see how you would work out the following observation,” and he gave him the necessary data.
In five minutes Will handed him the result.
“Of course, sir, to obtain the exact answer I should require to know more than you have given me.”
“That is quite right. To-morrow you shall go on deck with me, and I will show you how to use a quadrant and take the altitude of the sun, and from it how to calculate the longitude, which is somewhat more difficult than the latitude. I see you have a good knowledge of figures, and I am quite sure that at the end of a few days’ work you will be able to take an observation that will be close enough for all practical purposes.”
He then asked Will many questions as to his course of study, the books he had read, and the manner in which he had got up the book-work of navigation.
“But how did you manage about logarithms,” he said. “I generally find them great stumbling-blocks in the way of my pupils.”
“I don’t really understand them now, sir. I can look down the columns and find the number I want, and see how it works out the result, but why it should do so I have not been able to understand. It seems quite different from other operations in figures.”
“It is so,” the chaplain said, “and let me tell you that not one navigator in fifty really grasps the principle. They ‘fudge’, as it is termed, the answer, and if they get it right are quite content without troubling themselves in any way with the principle involved. If you want to be a good navigator you must grasp the principle, and work the answer out for yourself. When you can do this you will have a right to call yourself a navigator. If you come to me at twelve o’clock to-morrow I will show you how to work a quadrant. The theory is easy. You have but to take the angle the sun makes with the horizon at its moment of highest ascension. In practice, however, this is far from easy, and you will be some time before you can hit upon the right moment. It requires patience and close observation, but if you have these qualities you will soon pick it up.”
The sailors were the next day greatly astonished at seeing the chaplain take his place at the side of the ship and explain to Will the methods of taking an observation.
In the meantime Will was making rapid progress in the good graces of the crew. He was always ready to render assistance in running messages, in hauling on ropes, and generally making himself useful in all respects. His fight with Robert Jones had come off. Will had gained great confidence in himself when he found that he was able to climb the mast in the ordinary way, while Tom Stevens was able only to crawl up through the lubbers’ hole. Goaded to madness by the chaff of the other boys, all of whom had ranged themselves under Will’s banner, Jones threw down the challenge. Tom Stevens was most anxious that Will should not take it up except on the conditions stated, but Will proclaimed a profound contempt for the bully.
“I will try it myself, Tom. I can hardly fail to lick such a braggart as that. I don’t believe he has any muscles to speak of in that big body of his, while I am as hard as nails. No doubt it will be a tough fight if he has a scrap of pluck in him, but I think I will win. Besides, if he does beat me, he will certainly get little credit for it, while I shall have learnt a lot that will be useful to me in the next fight.”
Accordingly, at the time appointed the two lads went down to the orlop deck, a good many of the sailors accompanying them. An ordinary fight between boys attracted little attention, but the disparity between the years of the combatants, and the liking entertained for Will, brought most of those who were off duty to witness it. The difference between the antagonists when they stripped was very marked. Robert Jones was fully three stone the heavier and four inches the taller, but he was flabby and altogether out of condition, while Will was as hard as nails, and as active on his feet as a kid.
“It is ten to one against the young un,” one of the men said, “but if he holds on for the first five rounds I would back him at evens.”
“So would I,” another said, “but I doubt whether he can do so; the odds are too great against him.”
“I will take four to one,” another said. “Look at the young un’s muscles down his back. You won’t often see anything better among lads two years older than he is.”
The fight began with a tremendous rush on the part of Jones. Will stood his ground doggedly, and struck his opponent fairly between the eyes, making him shake his head like an exasperated bull. Time after time Jones repeated the manœuvre, but only once or twice landed a blow, while he never escaped without a hard return. At length he began to feel the effects of his own efforts, and stood on the defensive, panting for breath. Now it was Will’s turn. He danced round and round his opponent with the activity of a goat, dodging in and delivering a heavy body-blow and then leaping out again before his opponent could get any return. The cheers of the sailors rose louder and louder, and Will heard them shouting: “Go in; finish him, lad!” But Will was too prudent to risk anything; he knew that the battle was in his hands unless he threw it away, and that Jones was well-nigh pumped out. At last, after dealing a heavy blow, he saw his antagonist stagger back, and in an instant sprang forward and struck him between the eyes with far greater force than he had before exerted. Jones fell like a log, and was altogether unable to come up to time. A burst of cheering rose from the crowd, and many and hearty were the congratulations Will received.
“What was going on this afternoon, Mr. Farrance?” asked the captain; “I heard a lot of cheering.”
“I made enquiry about it, sir, and the boatswain told me that it was only a fight between two of the boys. Of course he had not been present.”
“Ah! It is not often that a boys’ fight excites such interest. Who were they?”
“They were Jones, the biggest of the boys, and by no means a satisfactory character, and young Gilmore.”
“Why, Jones is big enough to eat him.”
“Yes, sir, at any rate he ought to have been. He was a great bully when he first came on board, but the other tackled him as soon as they were together, and it seems he has to-day given him as handsome a thrashing as could be wished for, and that without being seriously hurt himself. He has certainly established his supremacy among the boys of this ship.”
“That boy is out of the common,” the captain said. “A ship’s boy newly joined taking up navigation, going about the masts like a monkey, and finally thrashing a fellow two years his senior must be considered as altogether exceptional. I shall certainly keep my eye upon him, and give him every opportunity I can for making his way.”
Will received his honours quietly.
“There is nothing,” he said, “in fighting a fellow who is altogether out of condition, and has a very small amount of pluck to make up for it. I was convinced when we first met that he had nothing behind his brag, though I certainly did not expect to beat him as easily as I did. Well, I hope we shall be good friends in future. I have no enmity against him, and there is no reason why we should not get on well together after this.”
“I don’t know,” said the sailor to whom he was speaking; “a decent fellow will make it up and think no more about it, but if I am not mistaken, Robert Jones will do you a bad turn if he gets the chance.”
No one was more delighted at the result than Tom Stevens, who had cheered loudly and enthusiastically. Dimchurch was also exuberant at Will’s success.
“I knew that you were a good un, but I never thought you could have tackled that fellow. I don’t know what to make of you; as a general thing, as far as I have seen, a fellow who takes to books is no good for anything else, but everything seems to agree with you. If I am not mistaken, you will be on the quarter-deck before many years have passed.”
They were now running down channel, and the boys were astonished at the ease and smoothness with which the ship breasted the waves, and at the mass of snowy canvas that towered above her. As they sat one day at the bow watching the sheets of spray rise as the ship cut her way through the water, Tom said to his friend: “You are going up above me quick, Will. Anyone can see that. You are thought a lot of. I knew it would be so, and I said I should not grudge it you; in fact, the greater your success the better I shall be pleased. But I did not think that your learning would have made such a difference already. The first lieutenant often says a word to you as he passes, and the padre generally speaks to you when he goes along the deck. It is wonderful what a difference learning makes; not, mind you, that I should ever have gone in for it, even had I known how useful it is. I could never have taken it in, and I am sure the old woman could never have taught me. I suppose some fellows are born clever and others grow to it. And some never are clever at all. That was my way, I suppose. I just learned to spell words of two letters, which, of course, was of no use. A fellow can’t do much with ba, be, by, and bo, and these are about all the words I remember. I used to think, when we first became chums, how foolish you were to be always reading and studying. Now I see what a pull you have got by it. I expect it is partly because your father was a clever man, and, as most of the people thought, a gentleman, that you came to take to it. Well, if I had my time over again I would really try to learn something. I should never make much of it, but still, I suppose I should have got to read decently.”
“Certainly you would, Tom; and when you once had got to read, so as to be able to enjoy it, you would have gone through all sorts of books and got lots of information from them. I am afraid, however, it is too late to worry over that. A man may be a good man and a good sailor without knowing how to read and write. I am sure you will do your share when it comes to that.”
“I wonder when we shall fall in with a Frenchman?”
“There is no saying. You may be sure that every man on board is longing to do so. I hope she will be a bit bigger than we are, and I know the captain hopes so too. He is for ever watching every ship that comes in sight.”
When running down the coast of Spain one day the look-out at the masthead shouted: “A sail!”
“What is she like?” the first lieutenant hailed.
“I can only see her top-gallant sails, sir, but she is certainly a square-rigged ship bound south, and her sails have a foreign cut.”
The first lieutenant swung his telescope over his shoulder and mounted the rigging. When he came to the top-gallant crosstrees he sat down and gazed into the distance through his glass.
After making a careful examination of the ship he called to the captain, who was now on deck:
“She is, as Johnson says, sir, a square-rigged ship, and I agree with him as to the cut of her sails. She is certainly a Frenchman, and evidently a large frigate. She is running down the coast as we are, and I expect hopes to get through the Straits at night.”
“Well, edge in towards her,” the captain said. “Lower the top-gallant sails. If she hasn’t already made us out, I shall be able to work in a good deal closer to her before she does so.”
All hands were now on the qui vive, but it was not for some time that the stranger could be made out from the deck.
“You can get up our top-gallant sails again,” the captain said. “She must have made us out by this time, and she certainly has gained upon us since we first saw her. There is no longer any possibility of concealment, so hoist royals as well as top-gallant sails.”
The stranger made no addition to her sails. By this time those on board the Furious were able to judge of her size, and came to the conclusion that she was a battle-ship of small size, and ought to be more than a match for the Furious. The vessels gradually approached each other, until at last a shot was thrown across the bows of the Frenchman. She made no reply, but continued on her way as if unconscious of the presence of the English frigate. The crew of the Furious could now make out that she had fifty guns, whereas their own ship had thirty-four.
“Just comfortable odds,” the captain said quietly when this was reported to him. “I have no doubt she carries heavier metal as well as more guns. Altogether she would be a satisfactory prize to send into Portsmouth.”
The men had not waited for orders, but had mustered to quarters on their own account. The guns were run in and loaded, and the boarding-pikes got ready. In five minutes orders were given to fire another shot. There was a cheer as white splinters were seen to fly from the Frenchman’s side. Her helm was put up at once, and she swept round and fired a broadside into the Furious. Four or five shots took effect, some stays and ropes were cut, and two shot swept across her deck, killing three of the sailors and knocking down several of the others.
“Aim steadily, lads,” the captain shouted; “don’t throw away a shot. It is our turn now. All aim at her centre ports. Fire!”
The ship swayed from the recoil of the guns, and then she swung half-round and a broadside was poured into the Frenchman from the other side.
After this Will and Tom knew little more of what was going on, for they were kept busy running to and from the magazine with fresh cartridges. They were not tall enough to see over the bulwarks, and were only able to peep out occasionally from one of the port-holes. They presently heard from the shouts and exclamations of the men that everything was going well, and on looking out they saw that the enemy’s foremast had been shot away, and in consequence she was unmanageable. The crew of the Furious had suffered heavily, but her main spars were intact, and the captain, manœuvring with great skill, was able to sail backwards and forwards across the enemy’s stern and rake him repeatedly fore and aft.
So the fight continued until at last the captain gave the order to lay the ship alongside the Frenchman and board. There was no more work for the powder-monkeys now, so Will and Tom seized boarding-pikes and joined in the rush on to the enemy’s deck. The resistance, however, was short-lived; the enemy had suffered terribly from the raking fire of the Furious, and as the captain and many of the officers had fallen, the senior survivor soon ordered the flag to be lowered. A tremendous cheer broke from the British. They now learned that the ship they had captured was the Proserpine, which was on her way to enter the Mediterranean and effect a junction with the French fleet at Toulon.
The next day the crew worked hard to get up a jury foremast. When this was done a prize crew was put on board. The French prisoners were confined below, as they far outnumbered their captors. Then, having repaired her own damages, the Furious proceeded on her way.
On arriving at Gibraltar the captain received orders to proceed to Malta, and to place himself under the order of the admiral there. For a time matters proceeded quietly, for the winds were light and baffling, and it took a fortnight to get to their destination. Here the ship was thoroughly examined, and the damage she had suffered more satisfactorily repaired than had been possible while she was at sea.
When the overhauling was completed she received orders to cruise off the coast of Africa. This was by no means pleasing to the crew, who considered that they had small chance of falling in with anything of their own size on that station. They were told, however, that there had been serious complaints of piracy on the part of the Moors, and that they were specially to direct their attention to punishing the perpetrators of such acts.
One morning three strange craft were sighted lying close together. Unfortunately, however, it was a dead calm.
“They are Moors, certainly,” the captain said to the first lieutenant after examining them with his glass. “What would I not give for a breath of wind now? But they are not going to escape us. Get all the boats hoisted out, and take command of the expedition yourself.”
Immediately all was bustle on board the ship, and in a very short time every boat was lowered into the water. Will was looking on with longing eyes as the men took their places. The lieutenant noticed him.
“Clamber down into the bow of my boat,” he said; “you deserve it.”
In the highest state of delight Will seized a spare cutlass and made his way into the bow of the boat amid the jokes of the men. These, however, were stilled the moment the first lieutenant took his place in the stern.
The Moors had not been idle. As soon as they saw that the boats had been lowered they got out their sweeps and began to row at a pace which the lieutenant saw would tax the efforts of his oarsmen to the utmost. The Moors had fully three miles start, and, although the men bent to their oars with the best will, they gained very slowly. The officers in the various boats encouraged them with their shouts, and the men pulled nobly. Five miles had been passed and but one mile gained. It was evident, however, that the efforts of the Moorish rowers were flagging, while the sailors were rowing almost as strongly as when they started. Three more miles and another mile had been gained. Then from the three vessels came a confused fire of cannon of all sizes.
Several men were hit, boats splintered, and oars smashed. The first lieutenant shouted orders for the boats to open out so that the enemy would no longer have a compact mass to aim at. At last, after another mile, the Moors evidently came to the conclusion that they could not escape by rowing, and at once drew in their oars, lowered their sails, and all formed in line. As soon as this manœuvre was completed heavy firing began again. Will, lying in the bow, looked out ahead, and, seeing the sea torn up with balls, wondered that any of the boats should escape unharmed.
The lieutenant shouted to the boats to divide into two parties, one, led by himself, to attack the vessel on the left of the line, and the other, under the second lieutenant, to deal with the ship on the right, for the middle boat would assuredly be captured if the other two were taken.
“Row quietly, men,” he shouted; “you will want your breath if it comes to fighting. Keep on at a steady pace until within two hundred yards of them, and then make a dash.”
This order was carried out by both parties, and when within the given distance the men gave a cheer, and, bending their backs to the oars, sent the boats tearing through the water. The pirate craft were all crowded with men, who raised yells of rage and defiance. However, except that one boat was sunk by a shot that struck her full in the bow, Lieutenant Farrance’s party reached their vessel.
The first to try to climb on board were all cut down or thrown backwards, but at length the men gained a footing on the deck, and, led by Mr. Farrance, fell upon the enemy with great spirit. Will was the last to climb up out of his boat, but he soon pushed his way forward until he was close behind the lieutenant. Several times the boarders were pushed back, but as often they rallied, and won their way along the deck again.
During one of these rushes Lieutenant Farrance’s foot slipped in a pool of blood, and he fell to the deck. Two Moors sprang at him, but Will leapt forward, whirling his cutlass, and by luck rather than skill cut down one of them. The other attacked him and dealt him a severe blow on the arm, but before he could repeat it the lieutenant had regained his feet, and, springing forward, had run the Moor through the body.
Another five minutes’ fighting and all resistance was at an end. Some of the Moors rushed below, others jumped overboard and swam to their consort. As soon as resistance had ceased the lieutenant ordered the majority of the men to return to the boats, and, leaving a sufficient number to hold the captured vessel, proceeded to the attack of the middle craft.
The fight here was even more stubborn than before, for the men that fled from the ships that had already been taken had strongly reinforced the crew of this one. The British, however, were not to be denied. The boats of one division attacked on one side, those of the second on the other, and, after nearly a quarter of an hour’s hard fighting, brought the enemy to their knees.
The pirates were all now battened down, the wounded seamen cared for by the doctor who had accompanied the expedition, and the bodies of the dead Moors thrown overboard. When this was done the successful expedition prepared to return to the Furious. They had lost twenty-eight killed, and nearly forty wounded.
“The loss has been very heavy,” the first lieutenant said when the return was given to him; “and to do the fellows justice they fought desperately. Well, now we have to get back to the ship, which is a good ten miles away. She is still becalmed, and so are we, and unless the wind springs up we shall hardly reach her before nightfall. I don’t like to ask the men for more exertions after a ten miles row at such a ripping pace; still, it must be done. Let two boats take each of the pirates in tow; they shall be relieved every hour.”
The sailors, who were in high glee at their success, took their places in the boats cheerfully, but when night fell they were still more than four miles away from the frigate.
