Chapter I: Part 1

TOUGH YARNS;

A SERIES

OF

NAVAL TALES AND SKETCHES

TO PLEASE ALL HANDS,

From the Swabs on the Shoulders down to the Swabs in the Head.

_BY THE OLD SAILOR_,
AUTHOR OF “GREENWICH HOSPITAL,” ETC.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

_PHILADELPHIA_:
E. L. CAREY & A. HART.

_BALTIMORE_:
CAREY, HART & Co.

_BOSTON_:
WILLIAM D. TICKNOR.
1835.

E. G. DORSEY, PRINTER,
_12 Library Street_.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

PAGE

_Ghost Stories_, 5

_Frere du Diable_, 23

_The Fisherman’s Family_, 41

_The Red Flag at the Fore_, 62

_The Prisoner_, 85

_The Convict_, 113

_The Burning Ship_, 136

_Veteran Soldier_, 163

Advertisements 185

TOUGH YARNS.

GHOST STORIES.

“_Glendower._--I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

_Hotspur._--Why, so can I; or so can any man:
But will they come when you do call for them?”

_King Henry IV._

I wish my young readers had been acquainted with my worthy and excellent father, for he cared not a snap of the finger for ghosts and hobgoblins, and he would actually walk through a churchyard at midnight without feeling the smallest particle of fear. Now, it may be supposed that his children (of whom I was the third) were naturally as courageous as their father; but from certain circumstances this was not the case. For whilst my worthy sire would have bidden defiance to a whole army of apparitions, myself and my brothers (there were five of us) would tremble at every noise after dusk, and when we were in bed, bury our faces in the blankets, lest something alarming should appear: nay more, not one of us would remain a moment in the dark without screaming, even if persons were in the same room; or be left alone in any place, though it was broad daylight and the sun shining in all his splendour.

I have said that my father was courageous; but then what ghost would have dared to attack him, or ventured to appear in his presence? He had fought many battles; he had braved the wind, and the storm, and the howling tempest: he had undauntedly looked death in the face, and the unrelenting tyrant had plundered him on every possible occasion, in his violent efforts to carry him off altogether. Thus the brave man had at different times lost an eye, and an arm, the calf of his right leg, and sundry slicings and cuttings from various parts of his really handsome person; so that a thought of frightening him never could have entered the mind of any supernatural being,--at least, of any rational one. This was the opinion of us boys respecting our father; but as to ourselves, it was quite another thing. We were children, and ghosts might rub their cold noses against our faces in the night, or start up out of the ground to terrify us during the day with impunity; for that there were such things as ghosts it would have been impossible to entertain a moment’s doubt, having, as we certainly had, the undisputed authority of Susan the housemaid, backed by the matter-of-fact accounts of Jane the cook, and the whole fully authenticated by old nurse, who declared that she had actually seen a spirit; but I suspect it was at a time when _spirits_ were pretty plentiful with her.

My parents were much out in company, and then the evenings were employed in telling the most horrible tales of murders, of sudden deaths, and of those who shortened their brief span of life on account of disappointments in love. Oh! how often has a cold sick shuddering come upon my young heart at pictures of the diabolical cruelty of human nature, when “man became a wolf to man!” and how has terror shaken every joint in my childish frame to hear of the restless spirit. Of the murdered, clothed in corporeal semblance, escaping from its cold prison-house to haunt the guilty slayer! How frequently have the tears trickled down my pale face at the hapless adventures of blighted affection; and many a time did my infantile imagination follow the retributive form that constantly haunted the wretch who had broken the vow of fidelity and truth! Nor was there wanting a good sprinkling of _accurate_ stories about highwaymen and housebreakers, gentlemen thieves for whom young maids wept when they considered them deserving a better fate.

The house we lived in was a very ancient but strong building, and exactly the sort of place to excite superstitious feelings--in fact, a sort of ghostery. There were some strange tales told about it; and the unaccountable noises in the chimneys which frightened the birds that built their nests there, and the hollow murmuring sounds that proceeded, particularly in windy weather, from behind the old oak panels of the rooms, all conspired to do that which my parents had but little idea of,--namely, to unnerve the system and weaken the intellect.

Still I was no coward, for I would always defend myself against any boy of my size, and was ready to undertake the usual hazardous enterprises of children; but a subtle poison was working within, which bade fair to render the mind imbecile, and to undermine the constitution. My parents became sensible of our altered condition, and when it was almost beyond redemption, were made acquainted with the cause. My father, in his usual blunt manner, made use of a strong argument against ghosts. “Boys,” said he, “you are a pack of fools: remember this, that those who are gone to Heaven, are too happy to quit it; and those who are gone to a place of torment, the devil won’t part with even for a moment.” Of course a change took place among the servants, who were blamed for instilling pernicious principles into our minds, but which they could not have done had my parents used a little more watchfulness to guard against it.

I was destined for the sea, and at an early age to sea I went. But though I had risen superior to many apprehensions which once tortured me, yet there were times when I could not entirely conquer former weaknesses; and a few weeks after the frigate to which I belonged had left Plymouth on a three months’ cruise, one of the quartermasters of the name of Buckley died, and, as is the usual custom, the body was sewed up in a hammock preparatory to interment. The poor fellow had expired late in the afternoon, and the committal of the corpse to the deep was to take place the following morning. Now Buckley had shown me a great deal of kindness, and taught me to knot and splice, and other parts of a seaman’s duty; besides, he had always slept at no great distance from me, and both of us were in the same watch; yet I could not subdue the horror I felt struggling in my breast, at the thoughts of passing the night near the cock-pit where I supposed the dead man to be laid. I dared not mention a word of this to my messmates, lest it should have ruined my character for ever; and as I was to take the morning watch, I went early to my hammock--but not to sleep. The close proximity to the corpse excited the most sickening sensations, which I found it impossible to get rid of; horrible phantoms floated before my imagination, and if weary nature exerted her prerogative and sank into repose for a moment, I started with dread lest the cold hand of the old man should be pressed heavily on my heart. At length my mind was harrowed up beyond human endurance; the watch below had turned in; there was no light except the glimmering in the lantern of the sentry, and he sat dozing at his post. I thought I could catch the spot where the corpse was extended, and faintly discern the outline of his form. To remain longer was impossible; the bell struck four,[1] and slipping on my jacket and trousers, over which I hastily wrapped my watch-coat, I cautiously ascended to the deck, but, ashamed to be seen, I crept into the launch,[2] which was between the booms, and finding a hammock, which I supposed to have been negligently left there by one of the seamen, I laid myself down upon it, and pulling over me an old sail with which it had been covered, I was soon in a deep and refreshing slumber.

The corpse was to be committed to the deep whilst all hands were upon deck, during the relief of the watch at four o’clock in the morning; and exactly at that moment, I was awoke by some one shaking me rather roughly by the shoulder. In an instant I sprung up; horrid recollections rushed upon me: it was broad daylight; many eyes were staring at me, some with astonishment, others with mirth; but, oh! how can I describe the terrible thrill that ran through every vein, when on looking at the hammock which had served me for a bed, I discovered that I had through the whole of the night been sleeping with the dead man for my companion, the body having been removed to the launch late in the preceding evening! I could not speak; I could not shriek; but I burst into an hysterical fit of laughter, and that saved me;--for the spectators, not knowing what was passing in my mind, took it for bravado. Many were the jokes respecting my attachment to old Buckley; and thus I was severely punished for my folly.

Two years passed away, during which I had occasional returns of terror and alarm, arising from my dread of non-existents, though I had been in two or three engagements and gained some applause for my conduct. The frigate I had first joined had been laid up unserviceable, and I was now in a beautiful eighteen-gun brig-sloop on the South American station. The tale of old Buckley was no longer the subject of amusement to others and torture to me, for the circumstance was unknown to my new messmates; and I entertained hopes that in the course of time, I should be enabled to overcome the feelings which but too frequently oppressed me.

The sloop was attached to the expedition intended to subjugate (for any other design was futile) the city of Monte Video, in the river Plata; and, with several other vessels, we were employed to capture the island of Goretta, in Maldonado Bay. There were three strong batteries, with long twenty-four and thirty-two pounders mounted, and these batteries were well manned with Spaniards; but they were compelled to yield to the intrepidity of our brave tars after a severe slaughter, considering the comparatively small number of men engaged. After the conflict, small parties were posted in various places round the island to prevent a surprise, whilst the main body with the commanding officer occupied a large building in the centre.

Midnight came,--a dark, dreary, cold, starless midnight, and I was ordered to visit all the outposts to see that the sentinels were alert upon their duty. The dead bodies of those who had fallen in battle remained unburied. I had looked upon many a bleeding and mangled form during the day; I had seen many a poor wretch writhing in the last pang of mortal agony; I had gazed with a sort of desperate wildness on the convulsive contortions which expiring nature had left upon the countenance; and now, in the stillness and solitude of night, to traverse the spot where they lay in promiscuous heaps as they had fallen, my very soul was harrowed up! I would not disobey, and I did not dare to ask for attendance lest my secret should transpire.

Alone then I departed, every nerve agitated with the commotion that shook my trembling frame. Alone I took my way to the nearest outpost, often starting aside as some stiffened corpse lay stretched across my path. The hollow moaning of the waves breaking against the rugged rocks, came with a fearful sound upon the wind, which rushed past in hurried gusts, and now and then a half-stifled groan burst from some poor creature who yet survived the carnage and was recovering sensibility. I had reached about halfway to my first place of destination, when my faculties became in a great measure paralysed, on hearing something behind which emitted a strange and unnatural noise. I determined to face it, and turned round for that purpose. The atmosphere was dense and hazy, enveloping the earth in darkness; but amidst the gloom, a most horrible figure kept rising up to more than mortal height, and then again sinking to scarcely half the stature of a man; two immense projections issued from its hideously formed head, and a pair of burning eyes glared with vengeful fierceness upon me: all my old feelings returned; dismay crept upon my spirit; and making one desperate effort, I ran with amazing rapidity from this terrific object. But alas! I had not run far, when I stumbled over a dead body, and fell in the midst of several others. I stretched out my hands to assist me in rising, and they rested upon the cold clammy face of a corpse! Once more upon my feet, I looked round; the monster was close to me, rising and falling as it had done before, and again I bounded away without knowing whither. A building presented itself, which I hoped was one of the outposts, and hastily entering it, I fell about twelve feet into a space below, but sustained no bodily injury as the floor was covered with piles of seal skins. Here, in thick darkness and insensibility, I lay for several hours, when I was accidentally discovered by a party who had clandestinely left the main-body to seek for plunder, and were attracted to the spot by seeing an enormous _he-goat_ near the entrance to the building. By the light of the lantern which they carried I was readily recognised, and soon rescued from my uncomfortable situation. The fresh air and human voices speedily restored me to animation, and almost the first thing I saw, quietly standing amid the group of seamen, was the innocent cause of my alarm and misfortune,--_the great he-goat_! My fall was attributed to accident; and, attended by the party, I visited the outposts and made my report to the commanding officer. The account of my adventure soon spread, but the occurrence was attributed to any thing except the real cause, as the different tale-tellers had each a story of his own to magnify my intrepidity; and thus my weakness not only again escaped detection, but I actually gained approbation for my courage. From that hour my determination became more and more strengthened to resist the pusillanimity, which in spite of every effort would at times attack me.

I was next employed in the capture of Monte Video, or rather the city of San Philip, which is the proper name,--Monte Video being a lofty mountain on one promontory of a deep bay, as the city of San Philip stands on the extreme point of the other promontory. After the city was taken, I was stationed at night on the flat roof of a house which communicated with several others; having received orders to be very vigilant, and in case of any thing material occurring to forward immediate information to the officer in command of the party, who was to despatch the intelligence to head-quarters. The post was one of extreme importance, and had been entrusted to me on account of my apparent fearlessness. It overlooked the gates leading to the shores of the bay, which, though in our possession, were frequently visited by guerilla bands, who secretly dealt death to the incautious sentinels. I had been about one hour upon the look out, and had suppressed the rising sensations of terror which had more than once attacked me; when, to my great surprise, a large empty earthenware crate, that stood in the corner of the next flat began to move slowly along the roof. I had been leaning over the parapet of the house with my back towards the crate, but the slight rustling made by the movement caused me to glance over my shoulder without appearing to turn my head. The motion ceased; but I could not doubt the fact, for the crate was not in the situation where I had first seen it. I still remained in my position without stirring, but kept my eyes directed by a sidelong glance towards the object. Again it moved, but so slowly and noiselessly, that by a person possessing a mind of any other stamp than mine, it would have passed unheard and consequently unheeded. In vain I struggled to suppress my emotion,--trembling imbecility was rapidly creeping upon my system,--all my former terrors were reviving, when at that moment the devices of the guerillas recurred to my recollection, and cocking the lock of a pistol, I stood in perfect readiness. Again the crate moved, so as to get more into my rear; but a picket-guard passing through the street below, I called to the officer and instantly sprang over the breastwork that divided the two roofs, and ran to that part which was most likely to cut off a retreat if the crate had been moved by human agency,--of which, I confess, I entertained strong doubts. These, however, were soon dispelled; for I had scarcely reached my station, when the crate was thrown up, and the tall gaunt figure of a guerilla was for an instant seen against the dim light of the sky. But it was only for an instant: our pistols seemed to be discharged at the same moment of time. I heard his ball whistle by my ears, and it left a tingling sensation that indicated how very close it had passed to my head: the smoke hindered me from seeing more, but I felt the sharp point of a knife graze down my breast,--I heard a heavy fall into the street below,--a fire of musketry succeeded;--then followed a wild shriek, and the guerilla was a corpse! His knife had been intended for my heart, but a backward step on my part, saved me: the skin was slightly scratched, and the instrument remained in my coat without doing further injury.

In what manner the desperado had gained the roof, I could not then divine; and I felt certain that he was not under the crate on my first taking the post, as I had carefully examined it. I had afterwards an opportunity of witnessing the mode by which he had accomplished it, and it was simply through the efforts of a number of men, who were raised up successively on each other’s shoulders. His design was assassination and plunder. For my share in this transaction, I obtained the approval of Sir Home Popham, and was raised in temporary rank.

The next trial of my nervous system was at Sierra Leone. I was then in a frigate, and as fears were entertained that the French were about to make a descent upon some part of the settlement, (a French squadron having been seen hovering off the coast,) the free negroes were armed and enrolled as volunteers. To effect this at a village about six miles in the interior, I was despatched with proper orders, and the boat landed me at the nearest point to my place of destination. It was late in the evening before my duty was completed; and as I was particularly desirous to return to the ship and make my report, an officer of the York Rangers lent me a beautiful and spirited horse, which I mounted, though not without a few misgivings, which were much increased when I was jocosely requested not to fall in love with the “ghost” on my road. On the wayside stood a lone and uninhabited house, where a trafficker in human flesh had murdered his wife; and ever since, the lady, or her apparition, had presented herself after dark before the gate. Beyond this house were the remains of a negro village, which previously to colonization had been attacked by slave-dealers and burned. The aged inhabitants were massacred, the young were borne to slavery; and now it was asserted that the former visited their old habitations, and called aloud for vengeance to redress their wrongs. Such tales were not calculated to inspire composure; but I strove to laugh at the jokes passed on me, and started off at full speed, declaring that “the ghosts should have a long chase, if they felt inclined to sport.”

The empty boast still faltered on my heart and my tremulous hand could scarcely hold the rein, when the house of death, all desolate, appeared in view. Striking the spurs into the sides of the generous animal, he sprang forward on his way, and passed the dreadful spot without my witnessing any thing to excite horror.

Although the moon was up, yet storms were on the wind, and heavy clouds obscured her light. Often in imagination did I hear the shrieks of the slaughtered negroes as they came howling on the gale, whilst I rapidly approached the ruined village which had been the terrific scene of blood. A black cloud thick with darkness overshadowed the picture, and spread a gloomy wildness over every object. The horse buried his hoofs deep in the sand, and, like an arrow from a bow, continued his fleet career; when, in a moment, he stopped, threw out his forelegs and reared upon his haunches, while steaming foam issued from his nostrils. It was with considerable difficulty that I retained my seat; and as the creature refused to proceed, I rode back a short distance and again made an effort to pursue my direct road, but in vain; the animal stopped at the same spot, and flew from side to side of the highway, nor could the whip and spur urge him to advance.

Several times did I repeat the same attempt; and though a chilling awe crept through my veins and made my blood run cold, yet nothing had presented itself to my sight, though it was evident that the eyes of the horse were fixed upon something supernaturally terrific.

At length the moon shed her dim light through a fleecy cloud, and then with horror and amazement I beheld the cause of terror; for right in the middle of the road appeared a long black coffin, and the pale beams of the moon glanced on the white escutcheons fixed on the top. Every feeling of the soul was racked to the extreme; every fibre of the heart was nerved to desperation; and, mustering all my breath, I uttered the great and awful name to which both quick and dead must pay obedience. The lid of the coffin was thrown up,--a figure slowly raised itself and gazed upon me, whilst my whole existence seemed quivering on the verge of eternity. The horse pawed the ground with uncontrolled fury; the howling of the gale seemed more dreadful;--when a hollow voice, with distinct utterance, vociferated, “Don’t be alarmed, ’tis only Uncle Joey!--So, so, poor fellow! so, so!”

The horse, hearing a well-known sound, became pacified; and then I ascertained that Uncle Joey, a corporal in the newly-raised volunteers, had been to town to fetch an _arm-chest_, which had been made by a carpenter to deposit the muskets in. Having, however, drank rather freely, he had found himself drowsy on his way back; so getting into the chest (which was painted black with a tin plate on the lid) and shutting himself in, he had enjoyed a comfortable nap, till the snorting of the animal and my shouting brought about his resurrection.

I hardly need say how much my heart was lightened by this explanation; and that I parted with Uncle Joey and his shell in much better spirits than had attended our meeting. Since that time I have had occasional returns of panic, but they have gradually diminished, and I am now almost as daring as my late excellent father, and except during temporary fits of nervous relaxation, care neither for ghost nor goblin; and I trust, that whilst my readers who are parents will keep a watchful eye that servants do not instil pernicious feelings into the breasts of their offspring, my young readers will rest satisfied on the assurance of an old man, that all ghosts are in reality mere Uncle Joeys.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Ten o’clock at night.

[2] The largest boat belonging to a ship.

FRERE DU DIABLE.

“Some said he was a wizard wight,
Some said he was a devil.”

Whoever has visited Italy, must retain a lasting remembrance of its romantic beauties, its delicious climate, and the balmy odours exhaled from the glowing productions of its soil. It was in one of the most delightful parts of this luxuriant country, that Joachim Galeazzo cultivated his extensive vineyards; and his wealth and influence rendered him of considerable importance, not only in the immediate neighbourhood, but throughout the province where he resided. Possessed of a fine manly form, and endowed with a countenance of mild benevolence, it could be no wonder that he was united to a female whose loveliness first attracted his attention, and whose sweetness of disposition secured the best affections of his heart. Smiling little cherubs blessed their union, gladdening prospects crowned their industry, and happiness shed contentment on their days. It was delightful to see the interesting family group, after the heat of the day had subsided, assembling round the margin of the clear fountain to enjoy its refreshing coolness, or revelling on the verdant lawn and sporting in their innocence and gayety.

But this was a bliss too pure to continue long. That plague of kings and scourge of nations--ambition, urged Napoleon on to conquest; and war, with its attendant horrors, spread devastation through the fertile valleys, while ravages heightened by ruthless ferocity marked the progress of the invaders. In vain did the peasants rush to defend their country and their homes; the army of the conqueror advanced amid smoking ruins and burning villages, the ashes of which were quenched only by the blood of slaughtered victims. Galeazzo possessed a soul of undaunted courage, and he determined to exert his utmost efforts to repel the approaching storm. He assembled a band of the bravest of his countrymen, and a solemn oath was pledged upon the altar, that they would expel the sanguinary invaders from their native soil, or die in the attempt.

It was an affecting sight to see those self-devoted heroes parting from their families and friends. Mothers and maidens, amid all the anxious emotions which fill the female heart with apprehension, looked with glowing pride upon the men they loved; and the small but firm phalanx bade adieu to their peaceful habitations, and to those whom danger bound more strongly round their hearts, determined that no disgrace should tarnish their fair fame.

Galeazzo and his band of patriots marched towards the enemy, and nearly the whole of them fell in the desperate struggle for liberty. They had, however, inspired their countrymen with fresh vigour, and the career of Napoleon was for a short time checked. The gallant conduct of Galeazzo, who still survived, pointed him out as a fit person to assume a higher command; a number of select and well tried men were therefore placed at his disposal, and without risking a general engagement, he commenced that species of guerilla warfare which afterwards became so terrible to the French.

But fortune, which at first crowned the efforts of Galeazzo with success, at length forsook him. In an evil hour he fell into a snare that had been laid to entrap him: his men were either killed or dispersed; and wounded almost to death, he returned to his own estate to aid the flight of his family to the mountains.

Almost fainting with the loss of blood, he arrived at the midnight hour on the borders of his vineyards. But the hand of the destroyer had been speedy; the red hue of the crackling flames streamed upon his sight, and overpowered with agony and weakness, he sank to the ground behind a hedge of myrtle that screened him from observation. Insensibility would have been a blessing, but it came not; for though unable to rise from the spot where he had fallen, his mind was still acutely alive to all that passed within his view. He saw his little innocents butchered by the murderous hands of the inebriated troops; he saw his beautiful wife struggling in vain against the brutal violence of the soldiery; he beheld the bodies of his children--

“Their silver skins laced with their golden blood,”

thrown among the burning embers of their once happy home; his soul sickened at the spectacle, and his senses forsook him. At length the ruthless passions of the troops were satiated; demolition ceased, for there was nothing more to destroy, and they quitted the work of their impious hands to immolate other victims, and to offer fresh sacrifices at the shrine of Napoleon’s ambition.

Morning dawned upon the wretched sufferer, who awoke once more to sense and misery; yet all around was calm, except when the solemn stillness was broken by the piercing death-shriek of some poor wretch in his mortal agony, or the distant discharge of artillery, which told a tale of slaughter. Still serenely beautiful was the clear blue sky, tinged with the golden radiance of the sun; and the blushing flowers that had drunk the moistening dew breathed forth their odours to the morning breeze, blending the soul of sweetness with the cooling winds. But the song of the peasant, as he early plied his wonted task among the purple clusters of the vine, was heard no more. The very birds, scared by the blackening smoke that curled towards the heavens and like the blood of Abel cried from the ground for vengeance, had left the spot where desolation triumphed.

Life was rapidly passing away from the wretched Galeazzo; his wounds had burst out afresh in his struggles to rise, and he felt approaching dissolution spread its film over his eyes. Still he continued fearfully sensible of his situation, and waited for the hour when his mortal agony should cease.

At this moment, the whole expanse was filled with a wild unnatural yell, like the mingling laugh and shriek of the tortured maniac; and a female figure, her hair dishevelled and hanging down her bare and bleeding bosom, her white dress rent and deeply stained with human gore, appeared upon the lawn. Her left hand was writhed in the hair of a French soldier, who was wounded beyond the power of resistance; and with strength almost surpassing nature, she dragged him towards the still glowing ashes of her once joyous habitation. Her right hand grasped a dagger, which was reeking with blood, and there she stood like another Hecate over her fallen prey. There was a maddened laugh--a scream--a shout of triumph--as she buried the ruddy steel in the body of the soldier; then flashed it in the sun, and again plunged it to the hilt in his breast. She gazed on her prostrate enemy with the fiend-like expression of a demon, and seemed to feel a terrible gratification in turning over every mangled corpse that bore the uniform of France, and with a direful vengeance thrusting the dagger into many a heart that had long ceased to beat. Unsatiated by revenge, she looked round for fresh offerings to her fury, and at length came to the spot where Galeazzo was crouched,

“Breathing the slow remains of life away.”

She looked upon his sunken eye and hollow cheek, and raising the weapon in her hand, “Die! wretch,” said she; “for thou hast nought to live for now.” But nature refused compliance with her purpose; the dagger dropped from her unnerved grasp, and she fell senseless by his side:--it was his wife!

* * * * *

The French army continued to advance almost unmolested, and thousands fled to the mountains to escape the ravages of war. But though these remained quiescent and passive at first, yet when the impulse of terror had subsided, the guerillas again formed themselves into an organized band, and swore eternal enmity to France. Their leader was a man of dauntless intrepidity and cool determination. Ever foremost in the conflict and always the last in the retreat, he soon become a conspicuous object to the invaders; and when the army encamped near Capua, his single hand performed prodigies of valour. The outposts were constantly attacked; the sentinels, even in the very centre of the main body, were found dead upon their post; and but a few of the foraging parties ever returned to supply the wants of the soldiery. All succour was cut off from seaward by the British cruisers, and provisions began rapidly to diminish in spite of even the masterly commissariat of Bonaparte.

The officers had been accustomed to make excursions into the surrounding country; but this was at last forbidden, for there was scarcely a jutting crag or thicket that did not conceal a desperate enemy, whose shining blade or long fusee was prompt to deal destruction. In vain were whole brigades called out to scour the country; the guerillas were secure in their mountainholds, and bade defiance to their foes. Attempts were made to dislodge them from their positions, but they were utterly fruitless; for though a few prisoners fell into the hands of the French, and after suffering torture were hung upon the branches of trees as spectacles for their companions, yet this did but instigate them to firmer resolve and to deeper revenge.

The chief had been known repeatedly to visit the camp of the invading army in disguise; and once, on being detected and pursued, the bullets whistled around him in every direction; but he escaped unhurt, and superstition whispered that his body was impervious to shot. The sentinels declared that they had seen him assume a variety of shapes, for he was sometimes perceived in the form of a wolf stealing from bush to bush, and then he would suddenly emerge in all the vigour and prime of manhood; but pursuit seemed useless, for he was said to disappear so suddenly, that none but those who were under the protection of superhuman agency could otherwise have escaped. A general consternation spread among the soldiery; even the commanders caught the infection, and this desperate leader became known to the whole army under the appellation of Frere du Diable. Large rewards were set upon his head; many of the officers bound themselves by oath to take him dead or alive, but their oath was generally sealed in death. Oftentimes when the wine was set upon the convivial board, and the canvass walls echoed to the sounds of mirth, the alarm was given that Frere du Diable was in the camp, and every weapon was prepared and every eye alert for action. Oftentimes at the evening hour, when the generous wine had warmed the flagging courage, would some one or other, more bold than his companions, laugh at their pusillanimity and swear to destroy the common foe; but the morning light generally saw him a corpse, with some certain token that either Frere du Diable or one of his comrades had dealt the blow.

It was about this time that Sir Sidney Smith commanded a fine frigate in the Mediterranean, and few men were better adapted for the conducting that sort of amphibious warfare which attended the hostilities on the shores of Italy. Dauntless intrepidity and daring resolution were mingled with a skilful knowledge of his profession; and there was a certain degree of romantic enthusiasm in his enterprises, which strongly displayed his adventurous and chivalrous spirit. The defeat of the French at Acre, and other places, was an incontestible proof how well he could conduct operations on land; and in boarding and cutting out the vessels of the enemy from under the embrasures of well-mounted batteries, or in storming the batteries themselves, his cool courage and his steady skill were regarded as pledges of victory by the intrepid seamen. But his chief delight was to lead his men under the cover of the twilight glow of an Italian night through the dark mazes of the forest, or winding among the huge masses of rock that lined the coast, where the wild guerilla crossed his path or joined his band and gave intelligence of the enemy.

It would be impossible for language to do adequate justice to such a scene. The slow movements of a hundred men, who crept from bush to bush without a whisper,--the cautious and silent advance upon the enemy,--the red watch-fire that marked the temporary encampment of the French, and the occasional challenge of the drowsy sentinel at the outpost, which died away upon the breeze as tranquillity was restored,--the crouching down in breathless silence till suspicion was lulled,--oh! there was a degree of enchantment in the whole which then was realized, but cannot now be described.

To the seamen these expeditions were a source of real amusement, and they afforded them repeated opportunities for indulging in their characteristic humour. When the word was passed for the boats to be manned, (and none but volunteers were permitted to go with the captain,) the hoarse voice of the boatswain’s mate followed his shrill pipe, and as the words “Bush-fighters away!” resounded down the hatchways, every man fore-and-aft knew the purport of the summons, and all would have gladly joined the party for the shore.

But though I say all, it must be admitted that the old master was an exception; he would have fought the devil himself in his ship, or would have run her flying jib-boom into the very quarters of his satanic majesty if he had caught him afloat; but he had no idea of “land privateering,” as he termed it. “A sailor,” he said, “always gets out of soundings ashore, and without knowing his bearings and distances, generally runs upon a false reckoning.” The fact was, he was as much a piece of the frigate as any timberhead in her hull; and nothing short of being wrecked or blown up could have separated them.

Sir Sidney had obtained intelligence that Frere du Diable was in the neighbourhood of his cruising ground, and wishing to communicate with him for the purpose of ascertaining the precise situation and operations of the French, the boats were manned and armed, and an hour before day-break the whole party landed in a small cove formed by rocks that entirely concealed from view the means of debarkation.

Leaving the principal portion of the men by the boats, with strict orders to the officer not to suffer any one to stray away, but to be extremely vigilant, Sir Sidney, with a lieutenant, two midshipmen, and twelve men, proceeded on his way over rock and stone, through bush and briar, towards the spot where it was most probable the guerilla chief would be found. It was a lovely morning; the stars still glistened in the clear blue heaven of an Italian sky, and there was that sort of dubious light which greatly added to the beauty of the romantic scenery. Sometimes the party had to climb by aid of their hands and knees to the summit of the frowning precipice, and at others to slide down huge masses of rock; so necessary was it to keep from every beaten track, for the purpose of avoiding any stragglers from the enemy’s camp, who might raise an alarm.

At length, after considerable exertion, and just as the sun appeared above the verge of the horizon, they arrived at a place in the interior of a thick forest and nearly at the extreme height of the mountain, which evidently displayed strong lines of defence, but so inartificially contrived as to appear more the work of nature than the hand of man. Huge trees lay piled in various directions as if thrown down by some gust of the wild tempest, yet in such positions as to afford occasional shelter to a retreating party, and offering an admirable post for harassing an advancing foe.

Scarcely was the first of these barriers passed, when a shrill whistle sounded close to them, and in a few minutes they burst into an open space that had been cleared of the underwood, and some of the trees now formed a pleasant alcove. Here the scene became highly interesting; it was one of those such as Salvator Rosa would have gloried in transferring to the canvass. In one corner upon an elevated mound so as to command a view of the whole area, sat a majestic-looking figure, with a countenance of mild serenity, but yet of a commanding aspect. Over his shoulders was hung the skin of a wolf, and the lower part of his body was enveloped in a cloak of furs. The butts of his pistols were just seen as they stuck in his broad girdle; a heavy sword and a carbine lay by his side, and in his hand he held that peculiar kind of knife so well known as the favourite weapon of the guerilla. Resting upon one knee, and with her arm leaning on his shoulder, was a female of great beauty; she was gazing tenderly upon him, but at intervals there was a fierce flashing of the eyes, an agitated contortion of feature, that rendered her terrible to the sight. There was nevertheless a fascinating beauty still, though it was constantly changing from the glance of fervid affection to the fiend-like expression of a fallen angel. These were Frere du Diable and his wife: or in other words, Galeazzo and Camilla.

The guerilla band were assembled in separate groupes, yet so connected as to be ready for action at a moment’s warning. Some were stretched upon the ground and still buried in the deep sleep which exertion and fatigue render so delicious to the weary frame; others were awakening from their slumbers and stretching their sinewy limbs, whilst a few were examining their arms and polishing their knives.

The shrill whistle again sounded, when a single blast from a bugle aroused every soul in an instant, and carbine in hand, they stood prepared for battle! Sir Sidney advanced, was immediately recognised, and a loud shout of joy proclaimed his welcome. The guerillas laid down their arms, and received the seamen with demonstrations of attachment. The chiefs met and embraced in token of amity, whilst the beautiful Camilla testified her satisfaction at seeing the enemies of the French. A multitude of conflicting feelings seemed to agitate her soul as she pressed the hand of Sir Sidney to her heart, and called upon him as “the avenger of blood.”

As soon as order was restored, the two chiefs held a conference together; after which refreshment was spread upon the green sward, consisting of dried venison, hard cheese, bread, fruits, and wine. On the elevated mound Galeazzo, Sir Sidney, Camilla, and the British officers, were seated upon the grass. Behind the guerilla chief, a little to the right, stood the bugleman, and on the left the sword-bearer, both prompt to obey commands. The seamen joined in the messes of the band, and the utmost harmony prevailed. A few minutes had elapsed since these arrangements were made, when suddenly a bright flash was seen among the bushes on the opposite side to that where the chief sat, and as the report of fire-arms echoed among the rocks, the bugleman fell dead upon Sir Sidney’s shoulder. All parties were instantly on their feet, and the chiefs dealt mutual looks of distrust at each other. It was evident that the ball had been designed for one of them, and suspicion pervaded the minds of both that treachery was at work. The dauntless look of defiance was exchanged; but it was only momentary, for the shrill voice of Camilla was heard. “Do they seek the lion in his den?” she exclaimed with bitterness. “On, on, and destroy the common foe!”

The features of the guerilla changed; he grasped Sir Sidney’s hand with impetuosity, gazed for a moment on the corpse, and then seizing the bugle, blew a blast so loud and shrill, that every rock and glen re-echoed the sound. He ceased, and the whole band stood in breathless silence, watching their leader who appeared like a statue; but no sound was heard, except the gentle rustling of the leaves in the morning breeze. Again with wild haste the chief raised the bugle and sounded louder and longer than before, and again all subsided to the deepest attention. At length, answering blasts were heard in different directions, and the chief, dashing the bugle on the ground, gave orders for the immediate departure of the band. Sir Sidney wished to accompany him, but this offer was politely declined; yet, turning to Camilla, he requested her to remain with the English captain till his return. She gave her husband a look of stern reproach. “Am I not bereaved?” said she. “Is not the blood of my offspring on their hands? Will not the wolf fight for her whelps, and shall I shrink? On, on, Galeazzo! the death shriek of my murdered children is ringing in my ears, and nought but deep and terrible revenge can satisfy me now!”

The chief raised the wolf’s skin from his shoulders, and drawing the head-part over his own so that the nostrils covered his brows, he assumed that terrific appearance which at all times rendered him so conspicuous an object in his encounters with the enemy. He again grasped Sir Sidney’s hand, and requested him to return to his ship; and as soon as he saw a smoke rising from the spot on which he then stood, he might consider it as a signal for him to retrace his steps to the place of rendezvous.

The guerilla band spread themselves into small parties and pursued different routes, though only at such distances from each other as to be ready to unite into one body should it be necessary; and in a few minutes not a vestige of the troop remained, except the corpse, the broken food, and the half-emptied flagons.

The British party returned to the frigate, and a careful watch was set to look out for the concerted signal. The officers were constantly directing their spy-glasses towards the spot, but nothing was seen; and the day passed away in restless impatience, not unaccompanied with suspicion of Frere du Diable’s intention.

Night came,--a beautiful clear Italian night,--reviving in the mind all the strong fervour of romance. The deep blue of the sky, reflected on the transparent wave which gave back its lovely hue, was beautifully contrasted with the dark foliage and the rocky masses which bound the shore, affording no indication of human dwelling--all was still and passionless. The eye was eagerly strained towards the thick wood, which frowned in gloom and pride; when about the middle of the first watch, light wreathes of smoke curled upward above the trees, followed by bright flashes, and in a few minutes the red glare of ascending flames gave a grand and terrific change to the quiet of the scene.

The boats were again manned, and soon sweeping through the liquid element to the spot they had quitted in the morning; and in an hour, Sir Sidney, with a more numerous retinue than before, arrived at the appointed place. But though the scene of the early day was striking, it was a mere tranquil spectacle when compared with the present, where wild ferocity was heightened by intoxication and hellish cruelty. In the centre of the space, the dry trunks of trees were piled on end, so as to form a spiral elevation and terminate almost in a point at the summit. They were burning with great rapidity, and cast a red tinge on the horrible figures that were spread around. The chief leaned upon his heavy sword near the fire, and his wife stood laughing by his side; but that laugh was utterly destitute of human pleasure,--it was like the laugh of a fallen angel exulting over mortal agony. She was terrible in her beauty, and the soul trembled before her demoniac gaze. A loud shout proclaimed Sir Sidney’s presence, and he immediately advanced towards the chief, who received him in the most cordial manner; whilst Camilla in wild accents exclaimed, “They would seek the lion in his den: but more blood has been shed as a sacrifice to avenge my murdered babes!” and she threw another log on the flames.

The chief informed Sir Sidney that the pursuit of the guerillas had not been unavailing, for they had followed the delinquent (who proved to be a French soldier under pledge to destroy Frere du Diable) down to the very outpost of the enemy’s camp, where, after a slight skirmish, he was captured and brought back to the strong-hold of the band. “And see!” said the chief, opening the blazing pile with his sword, and showing the mutilated remains of a human body consuming in the flames, “thus perish all our enemies!”

“Ay, perish, perish for ever!” responded Camilla.

“This is he,” continued the chief, “who fired the shot this morning. He confessed that it was designed for me, but thus--thus am I avenged!” The miserable victim had been burnt alive!

THE FISHERMAN’S FAMILY.

“As he spoke,
A sea burst o’er them, and their cables broke!
Then, like a lion bounding from the toil,
The ship shot through the billows’ black recoil,
Urged by the howling blast--all guidance gone--
They shuddering felt her reeling, rushing on--
Nor dared to question where; nor dared to cast
One asking look,--for that might be their last.”

“Come aft here, my lads, and haul down another reef in the mainsail!” exclaimed a hoary veteran, who stood at the helm of a fishing smack which was buffeting the waves at the entrance to the British Channel one October evening, when the lowering of the clouds and the freshening of the breeze gave strong indications of a southwesterly gale. The order was promptly obeyed; and the snug little craft again breasted the lofty surge, like a bird upon the wing, skimming the foaming tops of the billows.

“We shall have a rough night, father,” said a middle aged man, whose hardy countenance had borne the washing of many a salt sea spray; “the sun is setting in yon bank, and tinges the ocean with his reddening hue. The summits of the Scilly Isles appear like dying watch-fires through the haze; and these, you know, are sure prognostics of a rising gale.”

“Then let it come,” replied the veteran. “He whom the winds and the seas obey, can, when it pleaseth him, allay their fury and command them ‘Peace, be still!’ But go, Richard, have the trysail ready and get the storm-jib up; for by the long swell from the westward, I am of opinion there has been bad weather to windward, which will be down upon us before long; so let us have all low and snug before dark, my lad. And, James,” continued he to a noble-looking, fair-haired lad; “James, set St. Agnes’ lighthouse by the compass, for the fog will thicken presently; and yon Seven Stones[3]--worse than the plagues of Egypt to a sailor--look far from tempting, crested as they are with feathery foam.”

“I hope mother will not be uneasy about us,” rejoined the youth, as he laid the edge of his hand upon the compass, directing it towards the lighthouse; “we have been a fortnight at sea, grandfather, and the tempests must have howled round the cottage fearfully o’ nights; it has blown hard ever since we came out, and not a fish caught, besides losing part of our nets.”

“What, still uttering complaints!” exclaimed the veteran. “Look at your brother yonder, on the windless end; how fearlessly he sits and watches the ill-omened bird[4] which triumphs in a storm.”

“He does not think of home,” replied the youth. “But what would become of mother, and Jane, and the little ones, should the Fisherman’s Family go to wreck?”

“The Fisherman’s Family go to wreck!” reiterated the old man, stamping his foot upon the deck; “she’ll weather many a gale yet, my boy! Look at this white head!” and as he uncovered his hoary locks that wildly wantoned in the breeze, he presented a fine picture of Time steering inexperienced youth through the dangerous channels which beset human life. “Look at this white head!” he exclaimed; “the snows and storms of sixty-seven winters have passed over it, yet was I never deserted in peril by HIM in whom I have placed my trust. Your mother knows what a fisherman’s life is. Ay, boy, it was my pride to fortify her mind against adversity. But go, James, and help your father reef the bowsprit; for we shall have the gale here presently.”

And a gale indeed they had; for scarcely was the glory of the day departed, when the wind, like a destroying angel, came sweeping over the surface of the deep, and dashing the billows up to heaven with fury. Night shed its blackness on the scene, whilst the dense fog rendered it more drear and horrible. Poor James thought of his mother and his happy home; whilst his brother Ned, though two years his junior, seemed like a child of the tempest, exulting in its lavish wildness.