The brig was forthwith brought to the wind, the barge in a very short s.p.a.ce of time was launched and manned with a stout crew well-armed and provisioned, and she shoved off to perform her duty, while the "Sylph"
followed the strange sail. The man-of-war had evidently an advantage over the stranger, for while the sea-breeze in the offing blew fresh and steady, in-sh.o.r.e it was light and variable.
On perceiving this, Captain Staunton kept his brig still nearer to the wind, and ran down, close-hauled, along the coast, thus keeping the strength of the wind, and coming up hand over hand with the stranger, who lay at times almost becalmed under the land. The breeze, however, before they came abreast of her reached her also, and away she flew like a startled hare just aroused from sleep.
"Fire a gun to bring her to," exclaimed the captain; "she shall have no reason to mistake our intentions."
The British ensign was run up, and a gun was discharged, but to no effect. Two others followed, which only caused her to make more sail; and by her luffing closer up to the wind, she apparently hoped to weather on them, and cross their bows. She was a large schooner, and by the way sail was made on her, probably strongly-handed, so that there could be little doubt that she was the vessel for which they were in search.
"Send a shot into the fellow," exclaimed the captain; "that will prove we are in earnest, and make him show his colours."
The shot clearly hit the schooner, although the range was somewhat long, but it did slight damage. It had the effect though of making him show his ensign, and the stripes and stars of the United States streamed out to the breeze.
"Those are not the fellow"s colours, I"ll swear," said Mr Collins, as he looked through his gla.s.s. "Another shot will teach him we are not to be humbugged."
"Give it him, Collins, and see if you can knock away any of his spars,"
said the captain. "We must follow that fellow round the world till we bring him to action, and take or sink him. He"ll not heave-to for us, depend upon that."
"Not if Daggerfeldt is the captain," answered the first lieutenant.
"I think she is his schooner; but he is so continually altering her appearance that it is difficult to be quite certain."
"Though I was some hours on board of her, as I reached her in the dark, and left her before it was light, I cannot be certain," observed Captain Staunton, as he took a turn on the quarter-deck with his officer. "By the by, there is that poor girl"s black attendant; he will know the vessel at all events. Tell him to come up and give us his opinion."
The lieutenant went into the captain"s cabin, and soon after returned, observing,--
"He will not quit his mistress, sir; and the surgeon tells me he has sat by her side without stirring, watching every movement of her lips as a mother does her only child. As no one on board can speak his language but you, sir, we cannot make him understand why he is wanted on deck."
"Oh, I forgot that: I will speak to him myself," answered the captain.
"Keep firing at the chase till she heaves-to, and then see that she does not play us any trick. Daggerfeldt is up to every thing."
Captain Staunton descended to his cabin. Juanetta lay on the sofa, a sheet thrown over her limbs, her countenance of a corpse-like hue, but by the slight movements of her lips she still breathed. The black hung over her, applying a handkerchief to her brow to wipe away the cold damps gathering there. Her features, though slightly sunk, as seen in the subdued light of the cabin, seemed like those of some beautiful statue rather than of a living being. The surgeon stood at the head of the couch, endeavouring to stop the haemorrhage from the wound.
"I dare not probe for the ball," he whispered, as if the dying girl could understand him; "it would only add to her torture, and I cannot prolong her life."
"And this is thy handiwork, Daggerfeldt--another victim of thy unholy pa.s.sions," muttered the captain, as he gazed at her for a moment. "Poor girl, we will avenge thee!"
He had considerable difficulty in persuading Mauro to quit his mistress; but at length the faithful black allowed himself to be led on deck. He looked round, at first bewildered, as if unconscious where he was; but when his eye fell on the schooner, it brightened up, as if meeting an object with which it was familiar, and a fierce expression took possession of his countenance.
"Es ella, es ella, senor!" he exclaimed, vehemently. "It is she, it is she--fire, fire--kill him, kill him, he has slain my mistress!"
A gun was just then discharged, the shot struck the quarter of the schooner, and the white splinters were seen flying from it. On seeing this he shouted with savage joy, clapped his hands, and spat in the direction of the slaver, exhibiting every other sign he could think of, of hatred and rage. Having thus given way to his feelings, the recollection of his mistress returned, and with a groan of anguish he rushed down below.
The two vessels had been gradually drawing closer to each other, in consequence of the schooner luffing up to endeavour to cross the bows of the brig, and if she could, to get to windward of her, the only chance she had of escaping. The eyes of the officers were fixed on her to watch her movements.
"She"s about--all right!" shouted the captain. "Give her a broadside while she is in stays, and knock away some of her spars. Fire high, my lads, so as not to hurt her hull."
The brig discharged her whole larboard battery, and the fore-topmast of the schooner was seen tumbling below.
"By Jingo, we"ve dished him!" exclaimed Jack Hopkins, to his chum, Bob Short; "and I"m blowed, Bob, if it wasn"t my shot did that ere for him.
I never lost sight of it till it struck."
"Maybe," answered Bob; "hard to prove, though."
The schooner had sufficient way on her to bring her round before the topmast fell, and she was now brought into a position partially to rake the brig, though at the distance the two vessels were from each other, the aim was very uncertain.
That Daggerfeldt had determined to fight his vessel was now evident, for the flag of the United States being hauled down, that of Spain was run up in its stead, and at the same moment a broadside was let fly from the schooner. The shot came whizzing over and about the brig, but one only struck her, carrying away the side of a port, a splinter from which slightly wounded Bob Short in the leg.
"Ough!" exclaimed Bob, quietly binding his handkerchief round the limb without quitting his post, "they"re uncivil blackguards."
"Never mind, Bob," said Jack Hopkins, "we"ll soon have an opportunity of giving them something in return. See, by Jingo, we"ve shot away his forestay! we"ll have his foremast down in a jiffy. Huzza, my boys, let"s try what we can do!"
Whether Jack"s gun was well aimed it is difficult to say, but at all events the shot from the brig told with considerable effect on the rigging of the schooner. The brig did not altogether escape from the fire of the enemy, who worked his guns rapidly; but whenever a brace was shot away it was quickly again rove, so that she was always kept well under command. The loss of her fore-topmast made the escape of the schooner hopeless, unless she could equally cripple her pursuer; but that she had not contrived to do, and accordingly, as the two vessels drew closer together, the fire from each took more effect. Daggerfeldt, to do him justice, did all a seaman could do, and in a very short s.p.a.ce of time the wreck of his topmast was cleared away, and he was preparing to get up a new one in its place. The sea was perfectly smooth, and the wind gradually fell till there was scarcely enough to blow away the smoke from the guns of the combatants, which in thick curling wreaths surrounded them, till at intervals only could the adjacent land and the ocean be seen.
Although Daggerfeldt could scarcely have hoped to succeed either in escaping or coming off the victor, he still refused to haul down his colours, even when the "Sylph," shooting past ahead of him, poured in her whole broadside, sweeping his decks, and killing and wounding several of his people. Dreadful were the shrieks which arose from the poor affrighted wretches confined below, although none of them were injured. The "Sylph" then wore round, and, pa.s.sing under her stern, gave her another broadside, and then luffing up, ran her alongside--the grappling-irons were hove on board, and she was secured in a deadly embrace. The miserable blacks, believing that every moment was to be their last, again uttered loud cries of horror; but the slaver"s crew, some of whom fought with halters round their necks, still refused to yield, and, with cutla.s.s in hand, seemed prepared to defend their vessel to the last, as the British seamen, led on by their captain, leaped upon the decks. Staunton endeavoured to single out Daggerfeldt, but he could nowhere distinguish him; and after a severe struggle, in which several of the Spaniards were killed, he fought his way aft, and hauled down the colours.
At that instant a female form, with a white robe thrown around her, was seen standing on the deck of the brig; the crew of the slaver also saw her, and, believing her to be a spirit of another world, fancied she had come to warn them of their fate. The energies of many were paralysed, and some threw down their arms and begged for quarter. A loud, piercing shriek was heard.
"I am avenged, I am avenged!" she cried, and sank upon the deck.
It was Juanetta. Mauro, who had followed her from the cabin, threw himself by her side, and wrung his hands in despair. They raised up her head, and the surgeon felt her pulse. She had ceased to breathe.
No further resistance was offered by the crew of the slaver. Eight hundred human beings--men, women, and children--were found stowed below, wedged so closely together, that none could move without disturbing his neighbour. Some had actually died from sheer fright at the noise of the cannonading.
Instant search was made for Daggerfeldt; he was nowhere to be found, and the crew either could not or would not give any information respecting him. The prize was carried safely to Sierra Leone, where she was condemned; the slaves were liberated, and became colonists; and Captain Staunton, and his officers and crew, got a handsome share of prize-money.
The "Sylph" was in the following month recalled home, and a few weeks afterward the papers announced the marriage of Captain Staunton, RN, to Miss Blanche D"Aubigne.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
CORUNNA--OPORTO--PULL UP THE DOURO--NOTICE OF THE SIEGE OF OPORTO-- LINE-OF-BATTLE SHIP.
Porpoise"s story lasted out the gale. We were not sorry to see the conclusion of the latter, though it left old ocean in a very uncomfortable state for some time. A downright heavy gale is undoubtedly a very fine thing to witness--at least the effects are--and every man would wish to see one once in his life; but having experienced what it can do, and how it makes the ocean look and human beings feel, a wise man will be satisfied, at all events if he is to fall in with it in a small cutter in the Bay of Biscay when that once is over. I"ve had to go through a good many in the course of my nautical career; and though I"ve often heard sung with much gusto--
"One night it blew a hurricane, The sea was mountains rolling, When Barney Buntline turned his quid, And cried to Billy Bowline:
""Here"s a south-wester coming, Billy; Don"t you hear it roar now?
Lord help "em, how I pities those Unhappy folks ash.o.r.e now!
""While you and I upon the deck Are comfortably lying, My eyes! what tiles and chimney-tops About their heads are flying!""
I mustn"t quote more of the old song; for my own part I like a steady breeze and a smooth sea, when plates and dishes will stay quietly on the table, and a person may walk the deck without any undue exertion of the muscles of the leg.
The gale had driven us somewhat into the bay, and finding it would cause us little delay to look into Corunna, we determined to go there. The entrance to the harbour is very easy--a fine tall lighthouse on the south clearly making it. We brought up off the town, which is situated along the circular sh.o.r.e of a bay something like Weymouth. After paying our respects to the consul, we mounted a troop of steeds offered us for hire, and galloped off to inspect the chief scenes of the engagement between the English and the French, when the former retreated under Sir John Moore. On our return we visited his tomb, situated on the ramparts on the sea side of the town; the tomb is surrounded with cannon, with their muzzles downward--a fit monument to the hero who sleeps beneath.
Carstairs did not fail to repeat with due effect--
"Not a sound was heard; not a funeral note."