The Missing Ship: The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley. William Henry Giles Kingston

was now Gerald’s turn to insist on obeying orders. “Norah, Norah! stay where you are,” he exclaimed. “Should the Frenchmen have boarded us, you might meet them, and we can’t tell how they might behave. If any come here they’ll have to repent their audacity,” he added, placing himself with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other at the entrance of Norah’s retreat.

      “I must fight for you if they come down here—it is my duty, and I’ll do it,” answered Gerald to his sister’s expostulations; for she dreaded lest, by offering resistance, he might induce the enemy to kill him. He, however, would not listen to her entreaties. “At all events, don’t speak, Norah,” he said; “the Frenchmen may hear us and find us out—whereas if we remain quiet we may escape discovery till the boarders have gone back to their own ship and ours is left in charge of a prize crew, and we may be very sure that neither our father nor Owen will be induced to quit the Ouzel Galley without us.”

      Norah saw the prudence of this advice. She wisely also put out the lantern, the light from which would very certainly have betrayed their hiding-place.

      We must now return on deck. As soon as Norah and Gerald had gone below, the captain addressed the crew and asked whether they would stick by him and assist in making every effort he could devise for escaping. They one and all declared that they were ready to fight to the last to preserve the Ouzel Galley from capture and to escape a French prison.

      “Then we’ll make a running fight of it, my lads,” he said. “The enemy has probably much heavier metal and many more men than we have, but our two guns will be of as much service as her twenty if we can keep her as she now is, right astern—and that’s what I intend to do.”

      The second mate had narrowly scanned the French ship. “I can tell you what, Captain Tracy,” he said at length, “you haven’t a chance of escaping from her. I know her and her commander well, and not a better or more determined seaman ever walked the deck of a ship. I have reason to be grateful to you for the way I have been treated on board this vessel, and to your first mate for saving my life; and for your own sake I would advise you to haul down your flag at once and surrender—you will probably be far better treated than if you lead the Frenchman a long chase and are taken at last.”

      “I am obliged to you for your good intentions in giving the advice you do,” said Captain Tracy, “but my principle is to hold out till the last hope of success has gone—and we haven’t quite arrived at that point yet. If you don’t wish to fight you can go below.”

      “You mistake me,” answered the second mate, in a somewhat angry tone, and he walked away. The next instant a puff of smoke was seen to issue from the bows of the French ship, and a shot came flying across the water; but it fell short of the Ouzel Galley.

      “Stand by to fire our stern-chasers, Mr. Massey,” sang out the captain, “but we’ll let the enemy find out the range before we throw a shot away.”

      The captain did not fail to keep his eye on the canvas, to be ready to alter his course should there be the slightest shift of wind. The second mate continued walking the deck in sullen silence, determined apparently to take no further part in defence of the ship. Owen stood ready, match in hand, to fire the stern-chasers. In the course of a few minutes the Frenchman fired another shot; it went ricocheting over the water, and passed the quarter of the Ouzel Galley.

      “Our guns will carry as far as the Frenchman’s,” exclaimed the captain. “Now see what you can do, Owen.”

      The first mate, looking along his gun, fired; the shot struck the enemy. The crew of the Ouzel Galley watched eagerly for the effect of the shot. It went through the Frenchman’s fore-topsail. A loud cheer showed their satisfaction.

      “Well done, Owen—fire the other and try to wing him,” cried the captain. While the crew were loading the first gun, Owen fired the second. The captain, who had his glass turned towards the enemy, shouted, “Hurrah! it’s struck the fore-topsail yard.”

      The spar, however, remained standing, and some of the Frenchmen were seen running aloft to fish it. Owen sprang back to the first gun he had fired, and again discharged it; but the enemy at that moment kept away, and before what damage it had effected could be seen, clouds of smoke issued from her, and the shot from her whole broadside came rushing towards the chase. They were mostly aimed high, and either went through the sails or passed by without doing any injury; but two struck the quarter, and another glanced along the side, leaving a long white furrow.

      “Those shots were well aimed, but if she plays that trick often we shall have a better chance of escaping,” observed the captain, calmly; “try another shot, Owen.”

      The French ship quickly came up to the wind. Owen again fired, and one of the Frenchmen was seen to drop to the deck. The enemy had now brought a gun on the forecastle, from which they opened fire in return to the Ouzel Galley’s stern-chasers. Both vessels then fired away as fast as the guns could be loaded and run out; but though most of Owen’s shot told with some effect, the damage he produced was speedily repaired, while several of the Frenchmen’s shot struck the Ouzel Galley, though as yet no one had been injured. The former was, however, in the mean time, creeping up nearer and nearer, and also, from sailing closer to the wind, weathering on the chase. The second mate, who had been walking the deck with as much calmness as if no fight was going on, again came up to the captain.

      “I before warned you that it would be useless to contend with yonder ship,” he said, “and before many minutes are over we shall have the shot from her broadside crashing on board us. By holding out you risk your own and your people’s lives, and the lives of others dear to you—for it is more than possible that another broadside will send the ship and all in her to the bottom. We must—”

      Before the captain could reply the enemy fired his two foremost guns, the shot from which shattering the bulwarks sent pieces of splinter flying about, one of which struck Carnegan on the arm.

      “It might have been worse,” he observed; and after staggering a few paces he recovered himself. He added, “I will thank some one to bind up my wound.”

      “Shure, I’ll be glad enough to do that same,” exclaimed Dan Connor; “and if you’ll just step into your cabin, sir, we’ll have you all to rights in a jiffy.”

      “I shall not be the only one hit,” observed the second mate, as he allowed Dan to take off his coat.

      Still the captain had not abandoned all hopes of escaping, and kept to his resolution of persevering to the last. He ordered the guns on the lee side to be hauled over to windward, and as they could be brought to bear on the enemy they were fired; but what effect they produced was not perceptible, as both vessels were encircled in smoke. Several more shot struck the Ouzel Galley, and at length two of her gallant crew fell, desperately wounded, to the deck, and the next instant a third had his head taken off. Still no one thought of giving in.

      “We’ll shift the stern-chasers, Owen,” cried the captain; “they’ll soon be of little use where they are.”

      “Ay, ay, sir,” answered the first mate, and he with several hands began to haul one of the guns along the deck, when again the enemy fired his whole broadside. The guns had been elevated—the shot whistled overhead—a crash was heard, and down came the main-topmast of the Ouzel Galley on her deck, striking dead another of her crew. The survivors made a desperate effort to clear the wreck and prevent the fore-topmast from sharing the same fate, but even the captain now saw that all hope of escaping the enemy must be abandoned. On looking round to direct Owen to haul down the ensign, to his grief he saw that he too was wounded, and apparently severely so from the stream of blood flowing from his shoulder. At the same moment the French ship, which had rapidly shot up abeam, ran alongside and, throwing grappling-irons on board the chase, held her fast, while a party of the enemy headed by an officer leaped on the deck from the bows. Resistance was vain, but a few of the British crew instantly attempted to defend themselves with their cutlasses, the fallen topmast serving as a barricade; but the Frenchmen scrambling over it, the former were quickly