CHAPTER VI.

A DUEL TO THE DEATH.

"The stern joy that warriors feel In foemen worthy of their steel."--SCOTT.

This story of mine, lads, is not altogether fiction. Indeed there is very little fiction about it, and none at all in those portions that speak of the brave deeds of our Hearts of Oak in those dashing days of old.

But I should not be true historian were I to lead any of my readers to infer that we invariably had it all our own way on the wave. War would be the merest picnic, destitute of the slightest honour or glory, if there were no terrible obstacles to encounter and to crush. The navy certainly was never beaten on the whole or in fleets; but in single ship actions we sometimes had the worst of it.

Nelson knew how to fight, and he knew also that it was discreet to sheer off rather than be captured by vastly superior numbers. In the _Agamemnon_, for instance, he had once been chased for twenty-four hours by a fleet of three-and-twenty French ships. The odds here were a trifle too great for even Nelson's powers, and had I been in command of the _Agamemnon_ I'm not sure I wouldn't have ran away just as she did. Fact!

The French greatly respected Nelson. They wanted to catch him all the same. His opinion, however, of the French was not a very exalted one. During that chase he told Merryweather on the poop that the enemy were neither seamen nor officers, else they could have caught him easy. He appeared grieved about it.

"Really, sir," said Mr. Merryweather, smiling, "you seem to be vexed that they haven't caught us."

"Well, not quite that," said the commodore; "but I can't bear to see even Frenchmen making fools of themselves."

"It's an inshore wind you see, Merryweather," he added, "else we 'ed soon have our own fleet out to assist us, and, small in comparison though it is, you'd soon see those Frenchmen working to windward then."

* * * * *

I have already told the reader about the capture of Corsica. It did not prove of much service to us in the long run, however; for now a new page of history is turned over, and we find France in league with Spain against us, so it is deemed expedient to evacuate Corsica.

The Spanish were probably our friends at heart, but that signified very little. They were now going to assist in destroying our ships.

Spain had at this time a splendid navy, as far as ships were concerned; but their officers were certainly not much to boast about. Indeed, they needed no one to boast about them, they could do this themselves; but their courage after all was of the Bombastes Furioso type.

"Whoever dares these boots displace Must meet Bombastes face to face."

The Corsicans somehow were not ill-pleased to be rid of the British, and the French were overjoyed at the coming evacuation. Nelson superintended it with all his skill as a sailor, and all his adroitness as an undoubtedly clever man.

Of course the French tried to throw as many obstacles in his way as they could think of. The property of the British was confiscated, and there was even a conspiracy on foot to seize the viceroy.

Nelson showed his usual energy on this occasion. He despatched Commander Merryweather with a message into Bastia, to the effect that if there was the slightest opposition made to the embarkation of persons and property, he (Nelson) would batter down the town about the committee's ears.

The committee were Frenchmen who had formed a government, and thought they could do just what they pleased, and do it in their own way. They had not only sequestrated British property, but stationed armed Corsicans everywhere to guard it, while a privateer was moored near the mole to prevent the exit of our merchant craft. When Merryweather drew near, he found not only the guns of the privateer pointed at his boats, but muskets levelled at him from the mole head.

Merryweather, however, had looked down the muzzles of French guns once or twice too often to be easily frightened, so he delivered his message, instead of sheering off as the committee had fully expected he would.

"And now," said Merryweather, pulling out his watch, "I have delivered my message, and I give you precisely a quarter of an hour to deliberate. If I do not have your answer by that time, Nelson's guns shall open fire."

The answer came in five minutes, and a very practical one it was. The very sentinels had fled at the threat of Nelson's fire, and the vessels were permitted at once to leave the mole.

The embarkation occupied the greater part of a week, and, independent of private property, the public stores thus snatched from the harpy claws of the French were worth to our country about a quarter of a million of money.

* * * * *

"Well, boys," said Nelson one evening to Raventree and Tom Bure, who were standing by the bulwarks in the ship's waist, "you have a better chance of prize-money now than ever."

"Indeed, sir," said Lord Raventree.

"Yes; we have Spain to fight, as well as France."

"Well, sir," said Raventree, "I suppose there is also a better chance of honour and glory; for I don't care so much for the gold."

"And you, Mr. Bure?"

"Oh," said Tom, laughing, "I should like a share of both."

"Candidly spoken, lads, and I can assure you that it won't be my fault if you don't have both. I'm going to make the sea uncommonly hot for somebody."

It was on the frigate _Minerve_ that this conversation took place, and on which Nelson's broad pennant was now hoisted.

He was proceeding, in company with the _Blanche_, to Porto Ferrajo, his object being to assume the command of the fleet there, after which "the fun was to begin."

But adventures commenced before this, one at least; for on the 29th of December our hero Tom, who happened to be on the outlook, hailed the quarterdeck, or rather poop.

Merryweather, who had joined Nelson's ship, and was then on deck, knew that Tom had good news to impart from the very tone of his voice.

"A sail in sight, Mr. Bure?" he said.

"Yes, sir; a large Spanish frigate. I can easily make out her colours."

This was just off Carthagena, and at once the ship was cleared for action. In less than three minutes every man was at his quarters.

A more bravely contested fight than this we have no account of in all the war.

I have said already, that though the Spanish ships were good, they were badly officered. In the case of the _Santa Sabina_, however, it was quite the reverse.

You must remember, reader, that after the union of Scotland and England, in which our king, James VI., fell heir to the English throne, there was no such outlet as before for the untameable courage of our great Highland families. The scions of these houses despised trade--they were warlike to a degree--therefore they took service freely with their ancient allies the French, and indeed drew sword for any good nation, when in a good cause they could win honour and glory.

And this _Santa Sabina_, that scorned to fly, but boldly faced and haughtily addressed the hero Nelson himself, was commanded by Don Jacobo Stuart, or, in plain English, Captain Jamie Stuart. He was a direct descendant of the Duke of Berwick, son of James II. Probably there were several other Scottish officers in that ship as well, for our clans keep well together. History, however, does not say.

Now let Nelson himself, in his terse seaman language, speak of what followed.

"When I hailed the Don," he says, "I told him, this is an English frigate, and demanded his surrender. His answer was noble, and such as became the illustrious family from which he descended--'And this is a _Spanish_ frigate, and you may begin as soon as you please.'"

"I have no idea," continues Nelson, "of a closer or sharper battle. The force to a gun the same, and nearly the same number of men, we having 250. During the action I asked him several times to surrender; but his answer was, 'No, sir, not while I have the means of fighting left.'

"When only himself, of all the officers, was left alive he hailed, and said he would fight no more, and begged I would stop firing."

The brave Stuart was then taken prisoner on board the _Minerve_, and a prize crew, under the command of two lieutenants, one of whom was Lieutenant Hardy an officer of whom Nelson was very fond, and who comes into our story again later on. The Irish doctor was also sent to the assistance of the Spanish. Great indeed was the havoc he found there, the vessel was badly hurt, and dead and wounded lay around in dozens, the decks resembling a shambles.

Nor had the _Minerve_ escaped severe damage; so badly crippled was she, and so many dead and wounded lay on her decks, or hampered the cockpit, that when next day four other Spanish ships of war hove in sight, Nelson was unable to give the veriest show of fight, and it was only through his energy and skill as a seaman that he escaped.

These vessels were two frigates and two line of battle ships, so that, even had he been in the best of form, discretion would have dictated to the hero that flight was advisable.

Nelson speaks of Stuart in the highest terms of praise that one good and brave sailor can use towards another.

The _Sabina_, however, had to be abandoned. In other words, she was re-taken.

And Nelson returned Don Jacobo Stuart his sword, and sent him under a flag of truce to Spain.

"I felt it," he says, "consonant to the dignity of my country to do so, and I always act as I feel right without regard to custom. Stuart," he adds, "was reputed to be the best officer in Spain, and his men were well worthy to possess such a commander. He was the only surviving officer of the ship he fought so nobly."

So ended this awful duel to the death.