  The midshipman, at the close of his letter, written in the most affectionate spirit, particular reference being made to his rescuers, Walter, Ned, and their companions in the boat, on that occasion, said,— "You will recollect, my dear sir, that when you first hove in sight, on the day of the gale, it was not so thick as afterwards, and then a person in either vessel could, with a glass, easily make out the other; but, shortly after I fell overboard, it shut down thick of snow. During that time, our captain and first luff (lieutenant) recognized the Arthur Brown, knew her to be the same vessel that was almost under the guns of the Lowestaff in a fog, some months ago, and that she gave chase to. The officers and crews of all the other vessels had a good chance to look at her, when you lay so long under the guns of the castle, after running the fire of the flag-ship. Her masts rake so much, she carries such a cloud of canvas and is such a beautiful model, that there is no mistaking her, although you have altered her paint since the last trip. The fleet has taken scarcely any prizes, so that all are hungry for prize-money. Every one of us from the admiral to the powder-monkeys, feel chagrined at being thus bearded; that our reputation as seamen will suffer if you should again escape us. There's another motive. We all know if we could take the Arthur Brown, and put a few light guns on board of her, she would catch everything on the coast, and fill our pockets with prize-money. Add to this, your slapping our captain in the face with your flag, the other day, and you will perceive how matters stand between us. In short, while your noble treatment of myself and shipmates has gained you the respect and good will of every one,—and you would experience the utmost kindness, should you fall into our hands,—believe me, you have a difficult task, and one which will tax your resources to the utmost, for the fleet are determined to have the brigantine, or sink her. I could not do less than put those, to whom I owe my life, on their guard. But, from what I have seen of yourself, the character of your crew, and the capacity of the brigantine, I should not be so much surprised as my shipmates, should you, by some of those chances which always seem to turn up in favor of your people, escape us, though it by no means becomes me, as a British officer, to express any such desire." The ship's company of the brigantine being, with the exception of Jacques, all Americans, most of them having grown up together from childhood, and a good part of them shipmates on the last voyage, the relation between officers and crew was very different from that usually existing on shipboard. The communion was also more intimate from the fact that no one was hired, each having a share in the risk and profits of the voyage, and that they were bound together by a sense of common danger, cherished a personal attachment to each other, and reposed perfect confidence in the ability of the captain, insomuch that Quesnard, who marked with curious interest the manner in which things went on board the brigantine, said that he "would vote for a king in France if they could have a government like the government of that vessel." Upon receiving the letter, Captain Brown, calling his officers and crew together, read it to them, remarking, "You see, boys, what they are preparing for us." They received the communication without much emotion of any kind. Henry Merrithew observed, in his drawling way,— "Yes, cap'n, I see what they calc'late; but they say 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.' Me and George here, and Elwell, was figerin' up on our chists, with chalk, what each man's share of this cargo of silks and other truck that we are taking in will come to. If it comes to as much as the one we've just discharged,—and Elwell, who's been in the trade afore, judges it will come pretty well up, cause sich stuff is high now on account of the blockade,—why, I, for one, think the game's worth the candle." "It's my opinion, captain," said Sewall Lancaster, squirting the tobacco-juice through his teeth over the rail, "that it's a good thing for us these English are making the blockade so close, as long as we kin run it; and I reckon we kin, because, as Henry says, it makes both the cargo we fetch and the one we take away worth double; and I guess, as that youngster says,—not wishing any harm to him howsomever,—that something'll turn up on our side." This cool preference of greater risk, with the prospect of greater profit, was received with a universal murmur of assent. "Well, boys," said the captain, folding up the letter, "I wanted to know your minds, because we can't wait here a great while for a gale of wind to drive the fleet from their anchors. We have sold our cargo, and shall soon be short of provisions, and there are none to be had here. We must take our chance, the first suitable night, to run their battery, unless I can contrive some other way." While the vessel was completing her lading, the captain seemed quite thoughtful, and spent the greater portion of his time alone on a high hill, called Viste, over which led the road to Paris, and commanding a good view of the fleet. The port of Marseilles is completely land-locked, being a salt water lake, of the shape of an egg, half a mile in length, and a quarter of a mile in breadth. The entrance into it is not more than a hundred yards in width, and defended by strong fortifications. From his situation on the hill, the captain soon had ocular evidence of the accuracy of the statements contained in the letter he had received. He saw that not only had the number of vessels cruising outside been reduced to two, but they had formed a complete cordon across the road, effectually stopping all egress, except by encountering their broadsides at short range. The increased number of vessels also made it evident to him that the night patrols would be doubled. As the young captain—after a careful scrutiny of the disposition of the vessels—sat with the glass lying across his knees, an idea presented itself, which, on his way to dinner, he more fully matured. "Jacques," said he, while eating, "what was it you were saying the other day to a countryman of yours about a fire-ship? I can only catch a word or two, here and there, of your dialect." "I was telling him, captain, that there were two condemned vessels lying here, one a privateer, and the other a Guineaman (slaver), and the government was going to make fire-ships of them both, and send them down among the blockading fleet, now that they are moored in such close order." "Indeed," replied the captain; but, making no further allusion to the topic, he asked, "How is the water along the shore, from the outlet of the port, as you go to the westward?" "The shore is quite bold, captain, with a few shoal spots, for some miles." "Could you carry this vessel along shore, in the night, for two miles without getting aground?" "Yes, captain. I can feel my way with the lead, or I can carry you through narrow passages, between islands and the main shore, where no man-o'-war can follow." The captain said no more, but, rising from the table, sought his merchants, who went with him to wait upon the authorities. From them he learned that the privateer only was to be fitted for a fire-ship; that the magazine was already made, and the powder would be put on board directly. Captain Brown bought the slaver for a trifle, as she was fit only to break up for her iron. He also bought some old sails, and then hauled her alongside his own vessel. She was not far from the tonnage of the Arthur Brown; and there was so much resemblance between them, that, in the night, one might easily be mistaken for the other. They were both brigantines, but the difference was this: the main boom of the slaver was shorter, she had no royal-mast, and was painted differently. The young captain now communicated his plans to his crew, who set to work with a will to execute them. The main-boom was lengthened, a royal-mast, royal-yard, and flying-jib-boom added, and she was painted precisely like the Arthur. The old sails were limed to make them conspicuous in the night, as, in this case, no concealment was intended; ballast was put in, to give her the appearance of being loaded; in short, even a close observer would not have distinguished one from the other in the night. The two were now hauled near to the entrance of the harbor, awaiting the motions of the fire-ship. The moment the captain told his plans to his officers and crew, Walter and Ned volunteered to take charge of the slaver. "I don't believe," said the captain, "they will accomplish anything with their fire-ship, except a scare." "Why so?" asked the second mate. "Because they must have a northerly wind to get down to the fleet, and, with the wind that way, will not be likely to have a very dark night. The guard-boats will probably see them before they get very near, and give warning. It cannot be very hard work to get out of the way of a vessel steering herself." "I should like very well," said Walter, "to have the fleet scattered, but have no desire that the young midshipman, whose life we labored so hard to save, should be blown to pieces." "He won't be," said Jacques. "Why not he as liable as another?" "Because the Agamemnon, the vessel he belongs to, is the fastest vessel they have, and is most always cruising." In the hold of the old privateer, near the foot of the mainmast, was constructed a square room for a magazine, in which were placed eight hundred barrels of powder. From this to the stern a fire-proof passage-way or trunk was made, in which the train was laid, that it might not explode prematurely. The train was ignited by a port-fire, arranged to burn long enough to give those firing the train time to escape. The deck was filled with barrels of tar, dry wood, shavings, live shells, pieces of pot-metal, spikes, broken glass, and links of chains, to act as missiles when the explosion took place, and the guns were loaded with grape shot. The Explosion. Men who had volunteered for the duty were to fire the mass of combustibles on deck in three places, and the train leading to the magazine, all at the same moment, whenever the approach of the fire-ship was discovered by the enemy. Then, the fire being applied, and the helm lashed, she was to be left to make her own way. The night, so anxiously expected, came at last, hazy, with here and there a star just visible; the wind moderate, but fair, and enough of it to give the vessels good headway. It was half an hour past midnight when this infernal contrivance glided silently from the harbor and passed the forts,—having the appearance of a blockade runner,—and steered for the centre of the English fleet, followed by the slaver with all her sails set. She, however, hove to, when a short distance from the port, leaving the infernal to proceed alone. Moments seemed lengthened to hours, as the boys, hanging over the rail, gazed upon the dim outlines of the receding vessel, around which dark shadows were closing fast. Although the distance was not great which separated them from the fire-ship or the fleet, a thin haze, which obscured the light of the stars, completely obstructed the view. With bated breath they listened for some token from the bosom of that misty shroud, which they strove in vain to penetrate. No sound, save the occasional surge of the helm in the lee becket, or the quiver of a sail, as the vessel came up to or fell off from the wind, disturbed the repose of the night. "Walter," whispered Ned, "this silence is fearful; they must be almost there." A pressure of his arm was the mute response. A few moments more of suspense, when a stern hail broke the ominous silence so suddenly that, with a convulsive start, the boys sprang to their feet. There was no reply. Again the summons rose louder on the air, instantly followed by a shot. "They are discovered," said Ned. But even while the words were issuing from his lips three spirals of bright flame, shooting up from the fire-ship, revealed to the boys—who were looking from darkness towards the light—a scene combining every element, both of the sublime and terrible, and which thrilled them to the heart's core. The period of French history, during which the events here narrated occurred, abounded in the most startling contrasts. Acts of utter selfishness and the most fiendish cruelty were relieved by others manifesting the purest philanthropy and noble self-sacrifice. The crew of the fire-ship, finding they were discovered, and foreseeing that if they left the vessel to drift down by herself no damage would probably be inflicted upon the enemy, after saying to each other, "We will cover ourselves with glory, lay her alongside an English ship, blow her to atoms, and die for France," kindled the mass of inflammable material on deck in three places, and by this light, which constantly increased in intensity, the boys beheld the black hulls of the English ships, every shroud and rat-line standing out in bold relief against the dark sky, and the boats' crews, who, supposing the vessel a blockade-runner, were pulling from different directions to "board" her; but, when the flames revealed her true character, there was an instinctive pause; they lay upon their oars. "Give way, my hearts of oak," shouted the officer of the leading boat; "we'll put out their fire and their slow-match." With an answering shout they dashed the oars into the water again; but the flames burst from the port-holes and over the rail into their very faces, rendering useless all attempts to board, the very purpose for which this mass of material had been prepared and ignited. As, expecting explosion, they pulled rapidly away, a volley from the fire-ship killed the midshipman in charge and two men. The stern of that vessel, where stood the four men, was as yet clear of flame, the wind carrying the fire and smoke forward. "Why, in the name of Heaven, don't they leave? There's a boat towing astern," cried Ned; "she must blow up soon." "Ned, those men don't mean to leave." "Don't mean to leave!" "No; they know if that vessel is left to steer herself, ten to one if she strikes an English ship. They're going to sacrifice themselves." Right ahead of the infernal, as near as they could swing at their anchors, lay an eighty-gun ship and a sixty-four. It was evidently the intention of these desperate men to lay her between them, apply the match, and blow both themselves and their enemies into eternity together. It seemed most probable that they would accomplish their purpose; the breeze was light, and scarcely felt by the men-of-war, whose crews had cut the cables and made sail, while the infernal, by reason of momentum previously acquired, was coming down fast, bearing destruction and death. Now ensued an uproar impossible to describe. Blazing cinders and sparks from the fire-ship blew on to the main-topsail of the eighty, which was instantly in flames; but with that cool courage and perfect discipline so characteristic of British seamen, the topmen cut the sail from the yard, and passed water in buckets; the boats' crews were towing the ship ahead, while at the same time a hot fire was kept up upon the fire-ship from every gun that could be brought to bear; the other ships, that were out of her path, also poured in whole broadsides, in the hope of either blowing up or sinking her before she should get near enough to do execution. "That ship is gone for't," said Ned, as the helmsman of the infernal, seeing the two ships were separating, and that he could hope to destroy but one, altered his course, and steered direct for the eighty. At this moment a well-directed broadside cut off the foremast of the fire-ship, that, with all the head sails, went over the side. This brought the vessel to the wind, and arrested her progress, the man-o'-war improving the fortunate moment to escape. The scene now grew appalling. The air was filled with the roar of hundreds of cannon, while, as the now unmanageable vessel came head to wind, the flames ran up the rigging of the mainmast and swept over the place where those self-devoted men stood. In the midst of this horrid din, a shell exploded on her deck, a flash of blue flame illumined with its ghastly light the whole horizon, followed by an explosion that made every vessel quiver as though racked by the throes of an earthquake. The blazing mast shot up to the sky like a rocket, followed by jets of water and torrents of flame, bearing before them countless missiles, legs, arms, and other portions of the dismembered bodies of that ill-fated crew, to which succeeded a darkness made more intense by clouds of smoke, and a stillness as of death. As the smoke gradually lifted and drifted away to leeward before the wind, the eyes of all in the fleet were naturally directed to the scene of the explosion and the spot from which the infernal had disappeared, when they beheld what they supposed to be the Arthur Brown coming rapidly down before the wind, her snow-white canvas conspicuous against the frowning sky. Instantly concluding that the shrewd Yankees had improved this moment of confusion and alarm to escape, "The brigantine! The brigantine!" rang out from many a boat's crew; and the water was white with the foam of oars, as from all directions they dashed upon their prey. The boys, excited by the roar of artillery, the smell of gunpowder, and the examples of daring they had witnessed, were now perfectly reckless. "This is glorious, Wal," cried Ned. "I'm going to stick her for sea, and give them a pull for it." Notwithstanding a shot across their bows from the sixty-four, and a volley of small arms from the boats, they refused to heave to; and it was not till the man-o'-war's men were climbing over the side, that, sliding down the painter, they cut the rope and pulled away with might and main, the captors being too much occupied with their prize to concern themselves about them. Having put a good distance between themselves and the boats, they lay upon their oars to breathe. "Won't there be some swearing, Ned," said Walter, "when they come to look over their prize, and find her a condemned slaver, full of rocks?" "Yes; but I guess there will be more when they find what I have written on the companion-way." In the afternoon, while waiting for the fire-ship, Ned had written with chalk on the slide of the companion-way the value of the Arthur Brown's cargo, showing the man-o'-war's men what a rich prize they had lost, closing with some reflections upon the disappointments to which mankind are liable, and leaving the best respects of himself and Walter. In the mean time the Arthur Brown, without a single sail set to attract attention, propelled by muffled sweeps, and skilfully piloted by Jacques, was creeping along under the shadow of the land in calm water, till, entirely beyond the reach of observation, a kedge was silently lowered to the bottom, and she waited for her boat. Upon the arrival of the boys, with every inch of canvas spread, the swift vessel, now swifter than ever (for she had been coppered in Marseilles—a recent practice, and at that time scarcely known in the States), turned her prow homeward. Just as the sun rose above the horizon in the morning, the lookout at the mast-head of the Agamemnon, sung out, "Sail, O!" "Where away?" "Right ahead, sir." Mr. Reed beheld through the glass the well-known form of the Arthur Brown, bathed in sunlight, studding sails, alow and aloft, with the wind on her quarter making for the Straits of Gibraltar at a rate that defied pursuit. A smile of satisfaction—which he walked forward to conceal—passed over the fine features of the midshipman, as he took the glass from his eye. When, having composed his features, he reported to his superiors that he knew the vessel, and that it was the brigantine, it was considered useless to chase her; and long before eight bells struck, she had faded from their view. |
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