NIGHTS AT SEA; Or, Sketches of Naval Life during the War. BY THE OLD SAILOR. No. III. WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. THE CHASE. THE FORECASTLE YARN. "Not a cloud is before her Her beauty to blight: But she glows in soft lustre One star by her side From her throne in the azure, Earth's beautiful bride." A CHEERLESS and disheartening spectacle is a dismasted ship, with all her mass of wreck still clinging to the hull, that it once bore proudly over the billows! 'Tis like the unfortunate abandoned by his friends, who, however, continue to hang around him, though more to impede his way than to retrieve his fortunes! And there lay the Spankaway, with her long line of taper spars reversed, their heads in the water, and their heels uppermost; and, as if in mockery of the mishap, the beautiful bright moon showed their diminished shadows on the again smooth surface of the ocean. The squall had passed far away to leeward, and was dwindling to a mere speck of silvery vapour, whilst all besides was still, and calm, and passionless. Now it was no pleasant sight to Lord Eustace Dash and his officers to witness the dismantling of the craft they loved; and, as the chief, it may be naturally supposed that the chagrin of his lordship far exceeded that of his subs: but there was one amongst them almost affected to tears, and that was old Will Parallel, the master. "Smack smooth to the lower caps, by -!" said his lordship, as he surveyed the havoc made in his dashing frigate; "not a ropeyarn above the lower mast-heads, and—” "Not a bit of canvass abroad big enough to make a clout for a babby," chimed in the old master; "spanker, jib, topsels all gone to the devil, as 'll have no more manner o' use for 'em than a serjeant of jollies has for a hand-bible." "Where's Mr. -?" shouted his lordship, and the master's mate who had had charge of the deck stood before him. "How came all this, sir?" "It was a white squall, my lord," returned the young man addressed; "not a soul saw it till it caught the ship, and the topmasts went over the side immediately." "I shall inquire into the fact presently, sir," rejoined his lordship, excessively vexed and mortified. "Turn the hands up-clear the wreck !" "Hands up-clear the wreck !" shouted the first lieutenant. "Hands up-clear the wreck!" repeated the master's mate. "Boatswain's mate, pipe Clear the wreck!" reiterated the midshipmen. "Twhit! twhit!" went the call; and, "Clear wreck, a-hoy!" vociferated Jack Sheavehole, in a voice resembling the roar of the bellows of an anchor-forge. The summons, however, was hardly necessary, as every soul had tumbled up at the moment the frigate righted; and all turned to with a hearty good-will to repair damages, every officer and man using his best exertions. "The squall spoilt our fun, master," said the first lieutenant to old Parallel, as the latter was superintending the preparations for unrigging the old, and rigging the new spare topmasts. Ay! ay! 'twas an onfortunate blow to the harmony of the evening; but it will do for an incident for Nugent," responded the veteran. "Where's his fine lady curtcheying to herself in a mirror now? If he had stuck to plain matter-of-fact, mayhap the spars would have behaved better; though, arter all, it's a marcy they were so carroty, or mayhap her ladyship might have curtcheyed so low as to have gone to the bottom." That night was a night of arduous but light-hearted toil; no man shrunk from his task; and, when they piped to breakfast next morning, the frigate was once more all ataunt'o, with royals and studdingsails set, in chase of a large ship of warlike appearance that was seen in the north-west, running away large, apparently bound in for Toulon. Foretopsel-yard, there!" shouted Lord Eustace, from the quarterdeck. "What do you make of her, Mr. Nugent?" 66 "She's nearly end on, my lord," responded the young lieutenant, as, steadying himself by the topsail-tie, he directed his glass towards the stranger; and then, in a few minutes, added, " She spreads a broad cloth, my lord; and, from the cut of her canvass, I should most certainly say" and he paused to take another look. "I'd take my daffy on it, Mister Nugent," said the look-out man, "her topsels are more hollowed out than ourn; her royals never came out of a British dock-yard; and I'd bet my six months' whack again a scupper-nail that she's a Frenchman, and a large frigate too." "Well, what is she, Nugent ?" shouted the noble captain. "Can you see down to her courses!" "Yes, my lord," responded the lieutenant; "we shall, I hope, have her hull in sight before long, as I have no hesitation in saying-that is, my lord, I think she's an enemy's frigate." This annunciation was heard fore and aft; for, during the time of his lordship hailing, every whisper was hushed, and scarcely even a limb moved, lest the listener should lose the replies. Expectations had been raised that the vessel in sight might be a French transport, from the Egyptian coast, or perhaps a merchantman; but the chance of an enemy's frigate was indeed joyous news. Breakfast was hastily despatched; the mess-kids were speedily stowed away, and the boatswain's shrill call echoed amongst the canvass as he piped "Make sail, ahoy!" In an instant every man was at his station; every yard of cloth that could catch a breath of wind was packed upon the Spankaway, who seemed to glide along through the water just as easy as when she first started from the buttered slips. Indeed, Jack Sheavehole declared that "she wur all the better for the spree she 'd had the night afore." An exciting period is the time of chase, and it is extremely interesting to observe the anxious looks of the officers as they eye the trim of the sails, and the ready attention of the tars as they execute the most minute command, as if everything depended on their own individual exertions. The usual routine of duty frequently gives place to the all-absorbing stimulus which actuates every mind alike; and, as the seamen group themselves together, they spin their yarns of battles and captures, and calculate their share of the amount of prizemoney before they engage the enemy, totally regardless of the advice in the "Cook's Oracle," viz. "First catch an eel, and then skin him." But what have they to do with the "Cook's Oracle," where every man is by rotation cook of the mess in his own natural right, and "gets the plush (overplus) of grog?" All day the chase continued; and the Spankaway overhauled the stranger so as materially to lessen the distance between them: in fact, her hull could be plainly discerned from the deck, and there was no longer any doubt of her national character. In the afternoon permission was given to take the hammocks below, but not a man availed himself of it; they were therefore re-stowed in readiness for that engagement which all hearts were eager for, all hands itching to begin. Evening closed in, and keen eyes were employed to keep sight of the enemy. The men lay down at their quarters; some to take a nigger's sleep,-one eye shut and the other open; some to converse in good audible whispers; some leaning out at the ports, and watching the moonbeams reflected on the waters, whilst the hissing and chattering noise made by the progress of the ship was sweet music to their ears. It was a lovely night for contemplation,-but what did Jack want with contemplation whilst an enemy's frigate was in sight? The breeze was light enough to please a lady,-it would have scarcely vibrated the cords of an Æolian lyre: but this was not the breeze for our honest tars; they wanted to hear the gale thrilling through the harpstrings of the standing rigging, with a running accompaniment of deep bass from the ocean, as their counter, set in sea, trebled the piping noise of the wind. Yet there was one satisfaction; the Frenchman had no more than themselves, and they carried every fresh capful along with them before it reached the chase. The full round moon tried her best endeavour to make her borrowed radiance equally as luminous as that of the glorious orb which so generously granted the loan, with only one provision, that a certain rate of interest should be paid to the earth; but the old girl on this night tried to sport the principal. The waters were lucidly clear, and the mimic waves on its surface would scarcely have been a rough sea to that model of a Dutch dogger-a walnut-shell. Yet the Spankaway was stealing along some seven knots an hour, and the sails just slept a dreamer's sleep. On the forecastle-that post of honour to a seaman, where the tallest and the best of Britain's pride are always to be found—men who can take the weather-wheel, heave the lead, splice a cable, or furl a foresail, the A. B.'s of the royal navy, on the forecastle, just in amidships, before the mast, sat our old friend, Jack Sheavehole, Sam Slick, the ship's tailor, Joe Nighthead, Mungo Pearl, a negro captain of the sweepers, Jemmy Ducks, the poulterer, Bob Martingal, a forecastle-man, and several others, who were stationed at the foremost guns. "I just tell you what it is, Jack," said Bob Martingal, continuing a dispute that had arisen, "I tell you what it is; some on you is as onbelieving as that 'ere Jew as they 've logged down so much again, and who, they say, is working a traverse all over the world to this |