CHAPTER III.

"VOLUNTEERS" FOR THE NAVY.--THE BURNING OF THE "HIGHFLYER."

"I'm a freeman--a nabob--a king on his throne, For I've chattels and goods and strong beer of my own."

The "gentleman" who wished to see Commander Merryweather, just as he and his two friends had finished dinner at the "Fountain" next evening, was not a person one would have taken to very readily.

A tall, fair-haired, bland, inscrutable kind of man, with a shifty eye. He bowed most obsequiously to Merryweather, then looked doubtingly at Tom and Raventree, who were both in mufti.

"Friends," said Merryweather curtly.

"Officers, I presume," said Bloggs, for that was his sweetly-savoured name, and he smiled and bowed again.

"Enough of that, Bloggs," said Merryweather. "Help yourself to some wine, and let's get to business. Are your men all ready to volunteer?"

"To a man, Capting Merryweather."

"There now; no names, please. Where are they now, and what doing?"

"They're all on the carouse. Tossing cans, and singing, at No. 9 back-room."

"How many in all?"

"Over twenty; nearer thirty. I've refused them more liquor."

"Fool!"

"See here, Capting--I means mister. I knows my biz, you knows yours. Supposing I'd been too liberal wi' the grog, they'd have suspected. There's some among 'em suspects now. I knows what I'm about."

"All right. And they're in the back hall?"

"Ay, and a fiddler's just gone in."

"Keep them dancing and gay, Bloggs, till after midnight. We'll be there. Yes, empty the bottle if you like."

Bloggs had a double allowance of wine, bowed, smiled, and retired.

"Awful villain!" said Merryweather. "Those poor fellows we're going to have, if we can, have most of them been there a week, and hardly ever seen daylight."

"Does he keep them in the dark?" asked Tom innocently.

"You don't understand," said Merryweather, laughing. "He keeps them drunk that he may cheat them, and they hardly know whether it is night or day. If we didn't have them, Bloggs would bundle them, still drunk, on board some merchantman, five, six, or even ten at a time, receive their advance, and go smiling on shore again, to allure more to his dismal den. The ships that take them lie in the harbour for a day or two, and as soon as the poor seamen are sober it is up jib and off."

The back hall of No. 9 was considered the safest crimp's crib in all Portsmouth. It lay fifty yards off the street. You entered by a narrow alley, then found yourself in a kind of garden, at the bottom of which stood the hall, or dancing howff. Here poor Jack drank, danced, ate, and slept, awaking only to eat, dance, and drink again.

Let us look in here to-night. It will be some time before our eyes are quite used to the clouds of tobacco smoke; then we can dimly see Jack and Sally, or Poll, seated at tables round the room, smoking, singing, and yarning. There is a screechy old fiddle at quite the other end of the big room, and half-a-dozen couples on the floor footing it lightly on the fantastic toe, or the heavy heel.

The hubbub and din is fearful, for more than one song is going on at the same time, though if you listen you can just make out the words of the singer at the nearest table. His eyes sparkle with mirth as he trolls out the following ditty:

"Wounds! here's such a coil! I'm none of your poor Petty varlets, who flatter and cringe, and all that; I'm a freeman, a nabob, a king on his throne, For I've chattels and goods, and strong beer of my own. Besides, 't is a rule, that good fellows ne'er fail, To let everything wait but the generous ale.

_Chorus_--Besides----"

That chorus was never sung.

"Long live the King," shouted Merryweather, entering by the only door, and apparently all alone.

"Now, good fellows, it's all up; so who's going to fight the French for St. George and merrie England?"

There was just one moment of stillness after this bold, brief speech, then pandemonium seemed suddenly let loose. A shower of bottles, jugs, and cans came floating towards Merryweather, but he ducked and retired; women screamed, tables were overthrown, and amidst oaths and maledictions a rush was made for the door.

A few were knocked down and handcuffed as they came, but the rush was too great, even for the force of bluejackets.

The fight in the garden was a fearful one. The moon shone as brightly as day, and in less than a minute showed at least a dozen couples struggling on the ground.

It was not the object of the seamen to stop to fight, however, but to escape.

The second rush was through the alley, but here they encountered Merryweather's rear-guard. So well, indeed, had he disposed of his men, that out of the thirty odd merchant seafarers only about seven escaped.

There was no happier man next morning than Captain McTough, as he reviewed his volunteers--twenty-two in all, and scarcely one among them who had not a cut face or blood-matted hair.

And now a strange thing occurred. The very man who last evening had been singing about being

"A freeman, a nabob, a king on his throne,"

stepped out of the ranks and saluted the captain.

"Men," he said, "I'm a volunteer."

"And we're all volunteers, Bill," they shouted.

Then he turned to Merryweather.

"It doesn't matter a deal," he said, "now we're here, whether we volunteer or not. But, sir, I wish you were going with us, timber toe and all; for, faith! you fought finely, and I love a brave man."

Merryweather shook the man by the hand, and the volunteers cheered him as he went over the side. But I may as well state here as anywhere else that Bill Williams--and a bold Welshman he was--turned out one of the best men in the ship. And if a man could be good under such a tyrant as Commander McTough he could be good anywhere.

The brig had not got half-way over the Bay of Biscay before this officer showed the cloven hoof. He had no less than two men down from aloft in the same forenoon, stripped and flogged--four round dozen each, _sans ceremonie_.

His language was also, to say the very least, far from polite.

McTough was a sample of the naval officers who are despots on their own quarterdecks, and who, even in those days, I am happy to say were comparatively rare.

Tom Bure was sick of the fellow in four or five days' time, and could hardly be civil to him.

Raventree ventured to take a man's part, and received such a torrent of invective that he told McTough, there where he stood, that he was a scoundrel and a villain.

"Mutiny! Rank mutiny!" roared McTough, growing almost black in the face. "Down--below--under arrest, sir. I have half a mind to hang you to-morrow morning at the yard-arm. I have."

Raventree smiled, gave up his sword--it was at divisions--and went quietly below to his cabin.

"I have orders to let no one in to see the gentleman," said the sentry, when Tom went below that evening.

But Tom got in for all that.

Raventree was lying on his cot, reading by the light of a jimble-lamp.

"Tom," he said, "you mustn't stay a minute. I'll be cashiered as sure as a gun. But you needn't be."

"Keep up your heart," said Tom. "You're not tried yet, and there's many a thing may happen before we join the fleet."

Tom's prophecy came terribly true.

* * * * *

It was some nights after Raventree had been put under arrest, and towards the end of the middle watch--kept to-night by Tom, for it was watch and watch now that his friend was off duty--when Bill Williams, who had been sent below on some message, returned hastily on deck.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, "but there is a a terrible smell of burning between decks. Will you run down?"

Tom had not far to run. Not "smell" alone, but smoke was issuing from underneath the door of the captain's cabin. The alarm was given at once, and the fire bell had not clanged for a minute before every man was on deck. No disorder, however, no confusion. They were British seamen--Hearts of Oak.

The door of the cabin was found locked inside, but was speedily burst in, and as speedily flames rushed out. Even had he been alive, there could have been no hopes of saving the unhappy captain; but ten to one he himself or the wine of his native land had been the cause of the terrible calamity.

Tom Bure now assumed command, and he and Raventree, whom fate had relieved from arrest, at once divided the crew into two parties. Both worked like heroes, one party to get up the ammunition, of which there was quite a large store on board, the other in drawing water, to quell, if possible, the raging demon, Fire. The ship was put head to the wind, but in less than half an hour she had fallen off, for the whole afterpart was on fire, and steering was impossible.

Very speedily now the flames took possession of the rigging, and the scene that ensued baffles description. In less than five minutes after the vessel broached to, she was on fire from stem to stern.

Everything that could be lifted and launched overboard was thrown out, but there was no time to lower a boat. The men simply leapt into the sea by the dozen and score, for there had been nearly 200 men all told when the brig swung out past the Needles.

Tom Bure and Raventree, with many others, including Bill Williams, had sought refuge on the jibboom and bowsprit. It was but a choice of deaths apparently, when suddenly Bill shouted:

"Oh! look, Mr. Bure, yonder is a light, and it is bearing this way."

The night was intensely dark, and with the glare of the fire it seemed impossible that anyone could have caught sight of a light.

Williams was right, however.

In a few minutes' time boats were alongside picking up the drowning men, who clung to the floating wreckage.

Our brave fellows on the jibboom cheered them, Frenchmen though they could see they were. Their great black frigate lay out yonder against the star-studded horizon, gently rising and falling on the swell of the mighty Atlantic.

"We'll be all prisoners," said Bill.

"Never mind, Williams," said another sailor, "any port in a storm; but I say, Jack, I----"

Crash! The bowsprit was severed, and down went the jibboom into the sea. In another minute the brig had filled aft, heeled backwards, and gone down stern first, leaving but a few black, seething, smoking spars among the bubbling waves. Half at least of the poor fellows who had thought themselves safe on the jibboom were sucked down with the sinking ship.

* * * * *

Of all the crew of the sturdy brig _Highflyer_, only fifty-three mustered at daylight on board the French frigate.

"My dear Tom," said Raventree, "I have never felt more thankful for anything than to see your face among the saved."

"And I to see you, Raventree."

"And I to see you both, gentlemen," said bold Bill Williams, advancing.

Both Tom and Raventree reciprocated by shaking the honest fellow by the hand.

Nothing could exceed the kindness of the Frenchmen to the men they had rescued in so strange a manner.

Raventree and Tom were invited into the captain's cabin, and there they breakfasted.

"It is very kind of you to treat prisoners thus," said Tom.

"It ees all well," said the captain; "and it ees de fortune of de war. Perhaps it may be my turn next."

A day or two after this, and early in the morning, the strange spectacle was witnessed of a large French frigate coming straight in from the north-west, under all sail, towards the fleet of Sir John Jervis, who was still blockading Cadiz.

Here was a mystery that made every man on every ship stare in amazement.

Was peace declared, or was that ship mad?

Mad or not mad, she made directly for the admiral's ship, with a white flag flying at her fore, and the French stripes at her peak.

She wanted to speak, that was evident enough. So a boat was speedily hastening towards her. When the officer stepped on board he was quickly told the terrible story of the burning of the _Highflyer_, and the saving of a portion of her crew, whom the French captain now desired to give up to the admiral of the British fleet.

"One touch of Nature makes the world kin."

St. Vincent was much affected by this display of genuine kindness and chivalry. He insisted upon the French captain coming to dine with him, and when the frigate at last got under weigh a signal was made to man yards, and a cheer went over the water after the receding ship that must have rung in the ears of the crew for many a long day after.