Percy F. Westerman – The Complete Collection

Chapter 15

Luckily the Friend of the Sea had by this time used nearly all her ammunition, so that the explosion, though disastrous to herself, did us very little damage.

Before the debris flung high in the air by the explosion had fallen, the pirate ship had sunk beneath the waves, taking our flying jibboom and part of the jibboom with her, while a heavy pall of smoke covered the place where a moment before she was lying like a wounded animal at bay.

Now that all danger was past, the effects of the hardships I had undergone began to tell. I was faint, weary, and hungry; my clothes were in rags, my hands blistered, and my face blackened with powder. However, I made my way aft to report myself.

There was no sign of Captain Poynings on the quarterdeck, so I went towards his cabin. As I passed underneath the break of the poop I came face to face with young Greville Drake.

He stood stockstill for a moment, his eyes starting from his head in terror, till, realizing that I was flesh and blood, and not a phantom, he gasped: "Good heavens, 'tis Aubrey Wentworth back from the dead!"

Seeing I was like to fall, he took me by the arm and led me below. "But I must report myself," I said.

"Then report to me, Aubrey."

"You? Why not the captain?"

His answer was a suggestive jerk of his thumb towards the cockpit hatch, where the grim procession of mangled seamen still continued.

"What!" I exclaimed. "Is Captain Poynings down?"

"Yes; struck down at the last of the fight, and so are all the other officers. In me you see the senior unwounded officer, and as such I am in command of the Gannet ."

It was only too true. Our gallant captain had been hurled to the deck by a piece of falling timber from the doomed ship. The lieutenants were all either killed or dangerously wounded; the master, though he remained at his post during the engagement, had fallen through loss of blood; and the purser, who took his part in the fight as bravely as the rest, had had his left arm shattered above the elbow.

With the crew the mortality had been fearful, while hardly forty men were uninjured. With an undermanned, severely damaged ship, it was a question whether we should ever reach port again. Only a continued spell of fine weather would guarantee our safety.

Having washed, changed my ragged garments, and eaten a hearty meal, I went below to the cockpit.

Here, lighted by the dismal glimmer of a few ship's lanterns, a ghastly sight met my eyes, while a hot, fetid stench filled the gloomy region like a cloud. Stretched upon rough wooden trestles, or huddled in rows upon the bare deck, were dozens of human beings, some moaning, others shrieking and cursing in their agony.

Our surgeon was about to operate upon a little powder-monkey, a lad of about fifteen years of age, who had received a ball in the shoulder. Lying by the lad's side was his father, whose leg had just been removed, the pitch with which the stump had been smeared still smoking. In spite of the pain caused by the rough-and-ready surgery, the father grasped his son's hand, encouraging and comforting the boy, as the surgeon probed for the bullet.

At length I found Captain Poynings. He, refusing the comfort of his own cabin, preferred to share with his gallant crew the horrors of the cockpit, and lay, with his head and shoulders swathed in bandages, on a rough mattress, as if he had been an ordinary mariner.

Added to the dismal noises came the dull thud of the carpenters' hammers and mallets as they drove plugs into the shot holes betwixt wind and water, while the creaking of the ship's pumps betokened that she was leaking freely.

On going on deck I found that, as the next officer fit for duty after Drake, I was put in charge of the starboard watch, and had to take my share in the responsibility of navigating the Gannet to the nearest port.

This happened to be Gibraltar, which we reached after thirty-six hours of anxiety and arduous labour, and when the Gannet dropped anchor off the mole our feelings were those of relief and thanksgiving.

I accompanied Drake on shore to pay a visit to the Spanish authorities, asking them to afford us assistance in refitting. This request was readily and courteously granted, and during our stay, extending over three weeks, we had frequent opportunities of visiting the famous rock.

My companion often called my attention to the fact that military discipline seemed very lax at this great fortress; so when, forty-one years later, it was captured by a coup de main by Admirals Rooke and Shovel, the news of its falling an easy prey to us did not come as a great surprise.

At length the Gannet was again fit for sea; our captain was well enough to take command, and on the tenth day of September, 1663, we sailed for the shores of Old England.

CHAPTER XI

--Of the Manner of my Homecoming

Bad weather dogged us during our homeward voyage. Crossing the Bay of Biscay we were battened down for three days, and, save on one occasion, I did not go on deck the whole time the storm raged.

That occasion called for every available hand, for the securing bolts of two of our deck guns had broken adrift, and the huge ungainly weapons charged to and fro across the ship, carrying destruction in their passage. After strenuous efforts the guns were secured, but at a cost of four men washed overboard and five injured, either by the heavy seas that came tumbling inboard, or else by the wild career of the derelict weapons. After the gale came a fog, so thick and continuous that for two days we could scarce see the end of our jibboom.

Captain Poynings, after deliberating with the master, came to the conclusion that land was not far off, but the weather did not allow of the use of either sextant or quadrant. The lead, then, was our only guide; so a man was stationed in the chains, and minute-guns were fired in the hope that we might hear an answering and reassuring sound.

With the first cast a depth of thirty fathoms was obtained, and shortly afterwards the fog cleared, disclosing a bold headland on our larboard bow.

"Land! land!" was the cry, and amongst the men for'ard there was almost a wrangle, some affirming that the headland was the Start, others the Lizard or "The Bill", while a few sanguine men expressed their belief that it was the coast of the Wight.

"Keep the lead going," shouted the master, as the fog again swept down upon us like a pall, shutting us out of the sight of the land we so eagerly desired.

With great regularity the lead gave a gradual shoaling till twenty-four fathoms were announced.

Suddenly we were startled by the lookout shouting: "Breakers ahead!"

"'Bout ship!" ordered the master, and with a creaking of blocks and a slatting of sails the Gannet stood off on the other tack.

We could hear the dull roar of rushing water, but how far the sound came we could not determine..

"Keep her as she is, bos'n's mate," commanded the master. "Faith, as if I did not know; this is none other than the Race of Portland!"

As night came on, the wind, hitherto steady, increased into a gale, and before midnight it blew a hurricane such as had not been known for years; and to sheer off a dangerous coast we had to keep under storm canvas, though had we had searoom the master would have had the ship to lay to.

An hour after midnight our mainsail, though treble-reefed, parted with a report that was heard above the storm, the torn canvas streaming out to lee'ard like so many whips; and simultaneously our bowsprit carried away close to the gammonings, with the result that the ship yawed, then shot up into the wind.

With a shuddering crash the foremast went by the board, and we were helpless in the midst of the raging sea.

I kept close to Captain Poynings, who gave no sign of the presentiment that the Gannet's last hour had come.

Rapidly we drifted shorewards, where, in the inky blackness, a line of phosphorescent light denoted the breaking of the boiling water upon an ironbound coast.

The master came aft and shouted in the captain's ear. What he said I could not tell, the noise of the elements deadening all other sound, but to his question the captain merely shook his head. Again the master appealed, pointing to the now rapidly nearing cliffs. A deprecatory shrug was the reply, and Captain Poynings, turning on his heel, walked to the shelter of the poop.

The master made his way for'ard, and, turning out some of the seamen, bade them let go the anchor. With a rush and a roar the stout hempen cable ran through the hawsepipe, the vessel snubbed, swung round, and the next moment the cable parted as if made of pack thread.

Anticipating the worst, we all gripped the first object that came to our hands and awaited the shock.

It was not long in coming. There was a crash that shook the ship from stem to stern; her keel had struck a rock. Again she swung till her bows pointed inshore. Then came another crash, the main and mizzen masts went over the side, and after one or two violent motions the Gannet remained hard and fast, the heavy seas pouring right over her.

By this time the day had dawned, and we could see that the ship's bows were close inshore, so that had our bowsprit and jibboom remained they would have been touching the rocks, up which the broken water dashed in a terrific manner that made any attempt to swim ashore a matter of utter impossibility.

The after part of the ship was now breaking up fast. Our gallant captain still remained on the quarterdeck, having buckled on his sword as if going into action. Grasping his speaking-trumpet he shouted his last order: "Look to yourselves, men, and God have mercy on us all!" Then came a huge, tumbling, white-crested wave that swept the doomed vessel from the stern as far for'ard as the foremast.

When it had passed, not a sign was to be seen of the brave and ill-fated captain, who, with a score of his men, had been swept against the pitiless rocks.

Clustered in blank despair on the fo'c'sle were all that remained of the once smart crew of the Gannet . I remember seeing the lieutenant, the bos'n, Greville Drake, and about a score of the men, but, huddled on the lee side of the bulwarks, I remained, chilled to the bone and drenched by the drifting spray, hardly conscious of my peril or the presence of my shipmates in distress.

Above the slight motion caused by the heavy seas striking the hull there came a greater shock --the Gannet had parted amidships.

The bos'n's voice was heard faintly above the roar of the elements, and looking up I saw that, by the breaking of the ship, the forepart of the Gannet was raised in consequence of the 'midship portion subsiding, and that her bows were nearly level with a flat, rocky ledge but twenty feet away.

At the same time several men appeared on shore, looking at us intently, yet making no offer of assistance. We waved, making signs to them to throw a rope, but, to our astonishment, our appeals were met with a callous indifference. "You miserable wretches!" yelled the bos'n, shaking his fist in the direction of the inhospitable men. "Would I could get at you, ye cowardly landlubbers!"