Chapter IX: Part 9

The frigate stood off the land as if she was going away, but at night once more stood back. As soon as she was well in with the land she hove-to, and three boats were manned and lowered. Harry was appointed to go in one of them. They were to pull up the harbour and attack the three vessels, and, if necessary, one boat's crew was to land and storm the fort. With muffled oars they pulled up the harbour. They could just make out the vessels as they lay floating in silence on the calm water, a light wind blowing off-shore. The boats got close up to the brig before they were discovered. The enemy then, who had rushed to their guns, which were run out, opened a hot fire from them, with muskets and pistols; but the boats being close the shots passed over the heads of their crews. With loud cheers the British sprang up the sides of the brig. The crew bravely stood to their arms, but were speedily overpowered by the impetuosity of the boarders, and were cut down or driven below, some in their terror leaping overboard.

While Harry Treherne and his crew remained on board, the other two boats proceeded to the attack of the schooners. He, meantime, having secured the prisoners below, sent some of his hands aloft to loose sails while the cable was cut, and in a few minutes the captured brig was standing out of the harbour. The roar of the guns, the clashing of steel, and the rattle of musketry had aroused the garrison of the fort, which opened fire on the brig. The shots fell around her, and several went through her sails, but no one was hurt. As he passed near the schooners he listened anxiously for the signal which was to announce their capture. First one loud cheer and then another told him that the work was done, and they were soon perceived following under all sail, little heeding the fire from the fort. Harry Treherne, with all the officers and men engaged, was warmly commended for the spirited way in which the exploit had been performed. It was not the only deed of naval daring in which he took an active part.

At length the frigate was ordered to Bermuda on her way home. Within a short distance of that island a suspicious vessel was seen from the mast-head. Sail was made in chase. The stranger on discovering the frigate did her utmost to escape, steering to the eastward, the wind being from the west. A stern chase is a long chase. The night was clear and the stranger was kept in sight. When morning dawned the frigate had scarcely gained on her. This made the captain still more eager to overtake her. All that day the chase continued--the frigate gaining, however, somewhat on the stranger, a large fore-and-aft schooner. At length, at sundown, it fell calm, and fears were entertained that, should a mist rise, the schooner might escape during the night. The captain therefore, sent three of the boats to capture her. They had been discovered some time before they got alongside. Boarding nettings were up, small-arm men were stationed at the bow and stern, and as they drew near the guns opened a hot fire with grape and canister. Still the British seamen, not to be daunted, dashed on, and, climbing up the sides and cutting their way through the nettings, in another minute the schooner's deck was won. She proved to be a Spanish privateer, a very fine new vessel. A light breeze at daybreak enabled the frigate to come up with her. The prisoners were transferred to the frigate, and the command of the prize given to old Hulks, the mate, who had been Tommy Butt's tyrant; and Harry Treherne was sent as his second in command, with orders to proceed to Plymouth.

Old Hulks had several failings: whenever spirits came in his way he could not refrain from them. Harry had, therefore, the chief charge of the schooner. It was the winter season, and as they approached the chops of the Channel the weather became very bad. Old Hulks, however, declared that he must be home by Christmas, and ordered Harry to crack on all the sail the schooner could carry night and day. Harry had taken his observations as long as the sun could be seen, but for some days the sky had been obscured by clouds. He believed that they were not far from the Land's End, and well over to the British coast. Old Hulks insisted that they were too far to the southward, and ordered the schooner to be headed more to the northward. Night was approaching. It was Christmas Eve. The wind was strong, and a heavy snowstorm prevented the possibility of their sighting the land.

"Never mind, Harry; we shall see it in the morning,--about Plymouth, I take it, and I shall be at home in plenty of time for our Christmas dinner, and you shall dine with me, as you won't be able to get to your own place."

"I wish that I could think so. We are nearer the English coast than you suppose," said Harry.

"Well, heave the schooner to at midnight," answered old Hulks. "I shall go below--call me then; it's fearfully cold."

Harry was compelled to obey the orders of his superior. He, however, kept as good a look-out as he possibly could, wishing anxiously for midnight. The hour was approaching. The wind blew stronger and stronger, and the snow came down, covering the deck, and making it impossible to see beyond the bowsprit end. Suddenly there was a loud crash--the vessel groaned from stem to stern, the foremast went by the board. Loud cries arose: "We are on the rocks! We are on the rocks! Heaven protect us!"--was echoed from mouth to mouth.

Story 9--Chapter 3.

A large merry Christmas party was assembled under Sir Baldwin Treherne's hospitable roof. All sorts of games had been carried on till a late hour, and everybody was in high spirits.

"Oh, if dear Harry was here it would be perfect," exclaimed one of his sisters, the gentle Mary, who had been his chief playmate in his childhood.

"Oh, Harry is all right, enjoying the warm weather in the West Indies, instead of being frozen as we are here."

"Lucky dog!" said one of his brothers.

They all went to bed at last. More than one prayer in the house was offered up that night for young Harry's safety.

Christmas morning came. The sky was overcast, the snow was falling thickly. Sir Baldwin had promised to visit during the day a poor family; the mother lay dying.

"I cannot begin this blessed day better than by a work of love," he said to himself, as he looked out on the snow-covered landscape. "If I put it off till the afternoon she may no longer be here."

He never allowed the weather to prevent him from going out. With a thick greatcoat on, a stout stick in one hand, he set forth through the snow on his errand of mercy, long before the rest of the family had left their rooms. He was just going into the cottage when he met Paul Petherwick, with his pilot-coat, sea-boots, and a spy-glass under his arm, accompanied by several of his crew, carrying oars and coils of rope and other ship's gear.

"What, Paul, are you going to sea such a morning as this--Christmas morning, too?" asked the baronet, in a tone of surprise.

"Yes, Sir Baldwin, that I am; for you see, sir, I was one Christmas day, as you will remember, tossing about on yon stormy sea till my craft was driven on shore, and I and my crew well-nigh lost. I should have been thankful if any brother pilot had been out on that morning to have towed the _Sea-Gull_ into port. For what I know, there are some poor fellows out of their reckoning; and if I can fall in with them, and pilot them up Channel, I shall be doing as I should like to be done by."

"You are right, my friend. Heaven protect and prosper you," said the baronet. "You'll come up in the evening to hear the carol-singers. There'll be a cup of mead ready for you, and for your people, too, if they will come."

"Thank ye, Sir Baldwin; we'll come," said several voices, and the pilot's crew hurried down to their boat.

The pilot vessel made several tacks along shore before stretching out to sea. She had made her last tack, and was standing off the land when, near the very reef on which the _Sea-Gull_ was lost, Paul thought he saw the mast of a vessel. He called for his spy-glass. The boy brought it to him. Just then the snow cleared off somewhat.

"There are some poor fellows clinging to it, too," he exclaimed. "Ease off the jib-sheet! Down with the helm! we must beat up to them."

"Poor fellows! poor fellows! I hope that they will hold on till we reach them," he exclaimed several times, as he himself went to the helm, that he might make the vessel do her best, for tide and wind were against her. Just then a large ship hove in sight, with a signal for a pilot. "She can wait; these poor fellows cannot," he said, as he looked towards her. "She would have paid us heavy pilotage, too."

As the _Lady Isabel_ drew near the wreck, one of the people on the mast was seen waving a hat feebly. The others appeared to be lashed to it, but unable to move. The cutter was hove-to and the boat lowered. There was a broken sea running, and it was a work of difficulty and danger. Six men were clinging to the mast, most of them more dead than alive from the wet and cold.

"Take our young officer off first, pilot," said one of the men; "he's furthest gone."

Two of the most active of the pilot's crew climbed the mast, and brought down the almost lifeless form of a young midshipman. Only two other men could be carried in the small pilot-boat at a time.

"Why, if it isn't Master Harry Treherne!" exclaimed old Paul Petherwick, as he received the lad in his arms, and deposited him in the bottom of the boat. "Pull, my sons, pull! the sooner we get him between the warm blankets the better."

Harry Treherne, for it was indeed he, was quickly conveyed on board the _Lady Isabel_, and placed in the old pilot's bed, where, with the aid of a glass of grog (the sailor's specific in all maladies--in this instance the best that could be applied), he soon regained his consciousness. His first inquiries were for the rest of his crew. Five had been saved, but the rest, with old Hulks, had been lost. The cutter was now rapidly nearing the small harbour close to the manor house.

Sir Baldwin saw her coming, and having observed her manoeuvres near the wreck, was sure that she was bringing some shipwrecked seamen on shore.

"We have got some one here who will be glad to see you, Sir Baldwin," said Paul, as he and his men lifted a sailor wrapped up in blankets out of the boat.

"Father, dear father, I am all right! don't be alarmed. Only rather weak from having been out in the cold all night," cried a voice which Sir Baldwin recognised as that of his son Harry.

"Paul, you have repaid me, and more than repaid me," exclaimed the baronet, after the first greetings with Harry were over. "I knew that you would. Do what is right and kind on all occasions, and good will come out of it somehow or other, though we do not always exactly see how it is to be. That is what I have always said, and what has happened is a strong proof that what I have said is true."

The shipwrecked seamen were received into the manor house, and carefully tended. Harry was almost himself again by the evening, and all agreed that that Christmas Day, if not as merry, was as happy as any that the family had spent. They had many great blessings to be thankful for, and among them, not the least to the parents' hearts, was that their sailor-boy, after all the perils he had gone through, had once more been restored to them in safety.

THE END.