A new cutter was found and purchased, and named the _Lady Isabel_, after Sir Baldwin's wife; and for many a day, in summer and winter, Paul Petherwick sailed her in pursuit of his calling.

Story 9--Chapter 2.

There was not a finer lad in the country round than Sir Baldwin's third son, his blue-eyed, light-haired, merry, laughing boy Harry. When he came home from school for the summer holidays, Harry declared his fixed intention of going to sea. Sir Baldwin, after several conversations with his son, felt convinced that it was his settled wish to enter the navy, and forthwith set about obtaining a berth for him as a midshipman on board a man-of-war. There was but little difficulty in doing this; for, after a short peace, England was again at war with France and Spain and other countries, and ships were being fitted out as fast as they could be got ready. Harry was in high glee. The dream of his life was to be realised. He had not talked about the matter. People often, when they are very earnest in wishing for a thing, do not talk about it. Sir Baldwin took him to Plymouth; his outfit was soon procured, and he was entered on board the _Phoenix_, a dashing 36-gun frigate, destined for the West India station; a part of the world where there was every chance of her having plenty of fighting. Captain Butler, her brave commander, lost no time in getting his crew into an efficient state by exercising them constantly at their guns, and in shortening and making sail. Harry Treherne thus rapidly acquired a knowledge of the profession he had chosen. He had determined to be a good sailor; he gave his mind to the work, and considered no details beneath his notice; consequently, everybody was ready to give him instruction; he gained the confidence of the officers and the respect of the men.

"A sail on the lee bow!" shouted the look-out man at the mast-head.

The cry made the captain and officers on deck turn their gla.s.ses in the direction indicated. The helm was put up, and at length, through the haze of a warm summer morning, the stranger was discovered, with her mizen topsail aback and her main topsail shivering, evidently awaiting the arrival of the _Phoenix_. She was clearly an enemy's frigate, heavily armed. The _Phoenix_ had been disguised to look as much as possible like a corvette, a much smaller cla.s.s of vessel, and it was more than possible that the Frenchmen might find that they had caught a Tartar.

"We shall have some glorious fighting," cried little Tommy b.u.t.ts, the smallest midshipman on board. "We shall thrash 'em in quarter less no time. I hope that we shall have to board; that's the way I should like to take the enemy."

"Why, your cutla.s.s would run away with you, Tommy," said a big mate, who delighted to sneer at Tommy. "It is a shame to send such children as you to sea."

"His spirit may run away with him," observed Harry. "Never mind what old Hulks says; Nelson was a little chap, and he did a few things to be proud of."

Many a joke and laugh were indulged in as the men, stripped to the waist, stood at their guns, while the frigate approached her powerful antagonist. At length, as she got within range, the Frenchman opened his fire, the shot flying through the sails and wounding severely the masts, yards, and rigging. Not a gun, however, was discharged on board the _Phoenix_ in return till it could take deadly effect. The _Didon_, the French frigate, however, from fast sailing and clever manoeuvring, always managed to keep in such a position that the guns of the _Phoenix_ could not bear on her. At length the English losing patience, ran right down on the _Didon_ to windward, and thus the two antagonists were brought broadside to broadside.

This was the longed-for moment, and the British crew made up for the previous delay by working their guns with a rapidity which soon strewed the decks of the enemy with the dead and wounded, damaged her hull, and cut up her rigging.

Again the French ship got clear; but, as she had lost several of her sails, the _Phoenix_ was more of a match for her. Once more the antagonists closed, this time in a deadly embrace, the bow of the _Didon_ running into the quarter of the _Phoenix_.

"We have you now," cried the gallant captain, lashing, with the help of some of his men, the bowsprit of the enemy to his own mizen mast.

While he was so employed, Harry Treherne and Tommy b.u.t.ts saw a Frenchman taking deliberate aim at him. Tommy had got hold of the musket of a marine who had fallen wounded.

"See, Harry, what a little chap can do!" he exclaimed; at the same moment firing at the Frenchman, who fell, his musket going off and sending the bullet flying just above the captain's head.

Captain Butler saw the act, and nodded his thanks, for he had no time to speak. The next proceeding was to bring a heavy gun to fire through a port which had been formed by enlarging one of the cabin windows.

Several seamen fell, picked off by the French marines, till the gun was in its place. When, however, it once opened fire, its effects were terrible indeed, full twenty of the Frenchmen being struck down at the first discharge.

Meantime the English marines kept up so hot a fire on the _Didon's_ forecastle, that the seamen could not venture on it to fire the gun which had been placed there. At length, however, the antagonists separated, both presenting a woeful appearance.

Instead of the clouds of canvas swelling proudly to the breeze with which they had entered into action, rope-ends and riddled sails hung drooping down from every mast and yard. The fight was not over; the crew of the _Phoenix_ busily employed themselves in repairing damages, and, having knotted and spliced the rigging, and trimmed sails, she stood towards the _Didon_.

With the first fresh puff of wind the foremast of her opponent went over the side, and at the moment she was about to open her fire the brave captain of the _Didon_ hauled down her colours, finding that he could neither escape nor fight with any prospect of success. Loud cheers burst from the British crew. This was Harry's first fight. It was indeed a hard-fought one. Twelve men had been killed and twenty-eight wounded of the crew; while the _Didon_ had lost no less than twenty-seven officers and men killed, and forty-four wounded, out of a crew of 330, while the _Phoenix_ went into action with only 245 men.

She and her prize arrived safely at Plymouth. She only remained long enough to refit, and once more was at sea, and on her way back to the West Indies.

Harry's next exploit was of a different character. Pa.s.sing near the Isle of Pines, two schooners and a brig were discovered far up a bight, protected by a battery. There was little doubt that they were privateers, and likely to do damage to British shipping.

"We must cut those vessels out," observed the captain.

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 m.u.f.fled 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-sh.o.r.e. 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 b.u.t.t'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 a.s.sembled 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-gla.s.s 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.e 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-gla.s.s. 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.