“That’s as much as to say that she’s a pirate,” replied Sawbridge; “I can make nothing of her colours — they appear to me to be green — she must be a Turk. Another gun — and devilish well aimed; it has hit the boats.”

  “Yes, they are all in confusion: we will have her now, if we can only get a trifle of wind. That is a breeze coming up in the offing. Trim the sails, Mr Sawbridge.”

  The yards were squared, and the Harpy soon had steerage way. In the meantime Jack and his few men had kept up a steady, well-directed, although slow, fire with their larboard guns upon the Spanish corvette; and two of her boats had been disabled. The Harpy brought the breeze up with her, and was soon within range; she steered to cut off the corvette, firing only her bow-chasers.

  “We ab her now,” cried Mesty, “fire away — men take good aim. Breeze come now; one man go to helm. By de power, what dat?”

  The exclamation of Mesty was occasioned by a shot hulling the ship on the starboard side. Jack and he ran over, and perceived that three Spanish gun-boats had just made their appearance round the point, and had attacked them. The fact was, that on the other side of the cape was the port and town of Carthagena, and these gun-boats had been sent out to the assistance of the corvette. The ship had now caught the breeze, fortunately for Jack, or he would probably have been taken into Carthagena; and the corvette, finding herself cut off by both the Harpy and Jack’s vessel, as soon as the breeze came up to her, put her head the other way, and tried to escape by running westward along the coast close in shore. Another shot, and then another, pierced the hull of the ship, and wounded two of Jack’s men; but as the corvette had turned, and the Harpy followed her, of course Jack did the same, and in ten minutes he was clear of the gun-boats, which did not venture to make sail and stand after him. The wind now freshened fast, and blew out the green petticoat, but the Harpy was exchanging broadsides with the corvette, and too busy to look after Jack’s ensign. The Spaniard defended himself well, and had the assistance of the batteries as he passed, but there was no anchorage until he had run many miles farther. About noon the wind died away, and at one o’clock it again fell nearly calm; but the Harpy had neared her distance, and was now within three cables’ length of her antagonist, engaging her and a battery of four guns. Jack came up again, for he had the last of the breeze, and was about half a mile from the corvette when it fell calm. By the advice of Mesty, he did not fire any more, or otherwise the Harpy would not obtain so much credit, and it was evident that the fire of the Spaniard slackened fast. At three o’clock the Spanish colours were hauled down, and the Harpy, sending a boat on board and taking possession, directed her whole fire upon the battery, which was soon silenced.

  The calm continued, and the Harpy was busy enough with the prize, shifting the prisoners and refitting both vessels, which had very much suffered in the sails and rigging. There was an occasional wonder on board the Harpy what that strange vessel might be which had turned the corvette and enabled them to capture her, but when people are all very busy, there is not much time for surmise.

  Jack’s crew, with himself, consisted but of eight, one of whom was a Spaniard, and two were wounded. It therefore left him but four, and he had also some thing to do, which was to assist his wounded men, and secure his guns. Moreover, Mesty did not think it prudent to leave the vessel a mile from the Harpy with only two on board; besides, as Jack said, he had had no dinner, and was not quite sure that he should find anything to eat when he went into the midshipmen’s berth; he would therefore have some dinner cooked, and eat it before he went on board in the meantime, they would try and close with her. Jack took things always very easy, and he said he should report himself at sunset. There were other reasons which made Jack in no very great hurry to go on board; he wanted to have time to consider a little what he should say to excuse himself, and also how he should plead for the men. His natural correctness of feeling decided him, in the first place, to tell the whole truth, and in the next, his kind feelings determined him to tell only part of it. Jack need not have given himself this trouble, for, as far as regarded himself, he had fourteen thousand good excuses in the bags which lay in the state-room; and as for the men, after an action with the enemy, if they behave well, even mutiny is forgiven. At last Jack, who was tired with excitement and the hard work of the day, thought and thought till he fell fast asleep, and instead of waking at sunset did not wake till two hours afterwards; and Mesty did not call him, because he was in no hurry himself to go on board and boil de kettle for de young gentlemen.

  When Jack woke up he was astonished to find that he had slept so long: he went on deck; it was dark and still calm, but he could easily perceive that the Harpy and corvette were still hove-to, repairing damages. He ordered the men to lower down the small boat, and leaving Mesty in charge, with two oars he pulled to the Harpy. What with wounded men, with prisoners, and boats going and coming between the vessels, every one on board the Harpy were well employed; and in the dark Jack’s little boat came alongside without notice. This should not have been the case, but it was, and there was some excuse for it. Jack ascended the side, and pushed his way through the prisoners, who were being mustered to be victualled. He was wrapped up in one of the gregos, and many of the prisoners wore the same.

  Jack was amused at not being recognised: he slipped down the main ladder, and had to stoop under the hammocks of the wounded men, and was about to go aft to the captain’s cabin to report himself, when he heard young Gossett crying out, and the sound of the rope. “Hang me, if that brute Vigors an’t thrashing young Gossett,” thought Jack. “I dare say the poor fellow had had plenty of it since I have been away; I’ll save him this time at least.” Jack, wrapped up in his grego, went to the window of the berth, looked in, and found it was as he expected. He cried out in an angry voice, “Mr Vigors, I’ll thank you to leave Gossett alone.” At the sound of the voice Vigors turned round with his colt in his hand, saw Jack’s face at the window, and, impressed with the idea that the reappearance was supernatural, uttered a yell and fell down in a fit — little Gossett also trembling in every limb, stared with his mouth open. Jack was satisfied, and immediately disappeared. He then went aft to the cabin, pushed by the servant, who was giving some orders from the captain to the officer on deck, and entering the cabin, where the captain was seated with two Spanish officers, took off his hat and said:

  “Come on board, Captain Wilson.”

  Captain Wilson did not fall down in a fit, but he jumped up and upset the glass before him.

  “Merciful God! Mr Easy, where did you come from?”

  “From that ship astern, sir,” replied Jack.

  “That ship astern! what is she? — where have you been so long?”

  “It’s a long story, sir,” replied Jack.

  Captain Wilson extended his hand and shook Jack’s heartily.

  “At all events, I’m delighted to see you, boy: now sit down and tell me your story in a few words; we will have it in detail by-and-bye.”

  “If you please, sir,” said Jack, “we captured that ship with the cutter the night after we went away — I’m not a first-rate navigator, and I was blown to the Zaffarine Islands, where I remained two months for want of hands: as soon as I procured them I made sail again — I have lost three men by sharks, and I have two wounded in to-day’s fight — the ship mounts twelve guns, is half laden with lead and cotton prints, has fourteen thousand dollars in the cabin, and three shot-holes right through her — and the sooner you send some people on board of her the better.”

  This was not very intelligible, but that there were fourteen thousand dollars, and that she required hands sent on board, was very satisfactorily explained. Captain Wilson rang the bell, sent for Mr Asper, who started back at the sight of our hero — desired him to order Mr Jolliffe to go on board with one of the cutters, send the wounded men on board, and take charge of the vessel, and then told Jack to accompany Mr Jolliffe, and to give him every information; telling him that he would hear his story to-morrow, when they were not so very busy.

  Chapter Seventeen.

  In which our hero finds out that trigonometry is not only necessary to navigation, but may be required in settling affairs of honour.

  As Captain Wilson truly said, he was too busy even to hear Jack’s story that night, for they were anxious to have both vessels ready to make sail as soon as a breeze should spring up, for the Spaniards had vessels of war at Carthagena, which was not ten miles off, and had known the result of the action: it was therefore necessary to change their position as soon as possible. Mr Sawbridge was on board the prize, which was a corvette mounting two guns more than the Harpy, and called the Cacafuogo.

  She had escaped from Cadiz, run through the straits in the night, and was three miles from Carthagena when she was captured, which she certainly never would have been but for Jack’s fortunately blundering against the cape with his armed vessel, so that Captain Wilson and Mr Sawbridge (both of whom were promoted, the first to the rank of post-captain, the second to that of commander), may be said to be indebted to Jack for their good fortune. The Harpy had lost nineteen men, killed and wounded, and the Spanish corvette forty-seven. Altogether, it was a very creditable affair.

  At two o’clock in the morning, the vessels were ready, everything had been done that could be done in so short a time, and they stood under easy sail during the night for Gibraltar, the Nostra Señora del Carmen, under the charge of Jolliffe, keeping company. Jolliffe had the advantage over his shipmates, of first hearing Jack’s adventures, with which he was much astonished as well as amused — even Captain Wilson was not more happy to see Jack than was the worthy master’s mate. About nine o’clock the Harpy hove-to, and sent a boat on board for our hero and the men who had been so long with him in the prize, and then hoisted out the pinnace to fetch on board the dollars, which were of more importance. Jack, as he bade adieu to Jolliffe, took out of his pocket and presented him with the articles of war, which, as they had been so useful to him, he thought Jolliffe could not do without, and then went down the side: the men were already in the boat, casting imploring looks upon Jack, to raise feelings of compassion, and Mesty took his seat by our hero in a very sulky humour, probably because he did not like the idea of having again “to boil de kettle for de young gentlemen.” Even Jack felt a little melancholy at resigning his command, and he looked back at the green petticoat, which blew out gracefully from the mast, for Jolliffe had determined that he would not haul down the colours under which Jack had fought so gallant an action.

  Jack’s narration, as may be imagined, occupied a large part of the forenoon; and, although Jack did not attempt to deny that he had seen the recall signal of Mr Sawbridge, yet, as his account went on, the captain became so interested that at the end of it he quite forgot to point out to Jack the impropriety of not obeying orders. He gave Jack great credit for his conduct, and was also much pleased with that of Mesty. Jack took the opportunity of stating Mesty’s aversion to his present employment, and his recommendation was graciously received. Jack also succeeded in obtaining the pardon of the men, in consideration of their subsequent good behaviour; but notwithstanding this promise on the part of Captain Wilson, they were ordered to be put in irons for the present. However, Jack told Mesty, and Mesty told the men, that they would be released with a reprimand when they arrived at Gibraltar, so all that the men cared for was a fair wind.

  Captain Wilson informed Jack that after his joining the admiral he had been sent to Malta with the prizes, and that, supposing the cutter to have been sunk, he had written to his father, acquainting him with his son’s death, at which our hero was much grieved, for he knew what sorrow it would occasion, particularly to his poor mother. “But,” thought Jack, “if she is unhappy for three months, she will be overjoyed for three more when she hears that I am alive, so it will be all square at the end of the six; and as soon as I arrive at Gibraltar I will write, and, as the wind is fair, that will be to-morrow or next day.”

  After a long conversation Jack was graciously dismissed, Captain Wilson being satisfied from what he had heard that Jack would turn out a very good officer, and had already forgotten all about equality and the rights of man; but there Captain Wilson was mistaken — tares sown in infancy are not so soon rooted out.

  Jack went on deck as soon as the captain had dismissed him, and found the captain and officers of the Spanish corvette standing aft, looking very seriously at the Nostra Señora del Carmen. When they saw our hero, who Captain Wilson had told them was the young officer who had barred their entrance into Carthagena, they turned their eyes upon him not quite so graciously as they might have done.

  Jack, with his usual politeness, took off his hat to the Spanish captain, and, glad to have an opportunity of sporting his Spanish, expressed the usual wish that he might live a thousand years. The Spanish captain, who had reason to wish that Jack had gone to the devil at least twenty-four hours before, was equally complimentary, and then begged to be informed what the colours were that Jack had hoisted during the action. Jack replied that they were colours to which every Spanish gentleman considered it no disgrace to surrender, although always ready to engage, and frequently at tempting to board. Upon which the Spanish captain was very much puzzled. Captain Wilson, who under stood a little Spanish, then interrupted by observing:

  “By-the-bye, Mr Easy, what colours did you hoist up? we could not make them out. I see Mr Jolliffe still keeps them up at the peak.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Jack, rather puzzled what to call them, but at last he replied that it was the banner of equality and the rights of man.

  Captain Wilson frowned, and Jack, perceiving that he was displeased, then told him the whole story, whereupon Captain Wilson laughed, and Jack then also explained, in Spanish, to the officers of the corvette, who replied that it was not the first time, and would not be the last, that men had got into a scrape through a petticoat.

  The Spanish captain complimented Jack on his Spanish, which was really very good (for in two months, with nothing else in the world to do, he had made great progress), and asked him where he had learned it.

  Jack replied, “At the Zaffarine Islands.”

  “Zaffarine Isles,” replied the Spanish captain; “they are not inhabited.”

  “Plenty of ground sharks,” replied Jack.

  The Spanish captain thought our hero a very strange fellow, to fight under a green silk petticoat, and to take lessons in Spanish from the ground sharks. However, being quite as polite as Jack, he did not contradict him, but took a huge pinch of snuff, wishing from the bottom of his heart that the ground sharks had taken Jack before he had hoisted that confounded green petticoat.

  However, Jack was in high favour with the captain, and all the ship’s company, with the exception of his four enemies — the master, Vigors, the boatswain, and the purser’s steward. As for Mr Vigors, he had come to his senses again, and had put his colt in his chest until Jack should take another cruise. Little Gossett, at any insulting remark made by Vigors, pointed to the window of the berth and grinned; and the very recollection made Vigors turn pale, and awed him into silence.

  In two days they arrived at Gibraltar — Mr Sawbridge rejoined the ship — so did Mr Jolliffe — they remained there a fortnight, during which Jack was permitted to be continually on shore — Mr Asper accompanied him, and Jack drew a heavy bill to prove to his father that he was still alive. Mr Sawbridge made our hero relate to him all his adventures, and was so pleased with the conduct of Mesty, that he appointed him to a situation which was particularly suited to him — that of ship’s corporal. Mr Sawbridge knew that it was an office of trust, and provided that he could find a man fit for it, he was very indifferent about his colour. Mesty walked and strutted about, at least three inches taller than he was before. He was always clean, did his duty conscientiously, and seldom used his cane.

  “I think, Mr Easy,” said the first lieutenant, “that as you are so particularly fond of taking a cruise” — for Jack had told the whole truth— “it might be as well that you improve your navigation.”

  “I do think myself, sir,” replied Jack, with great modesty, “that I am not yet quite perfect.”

  “Well, then, Mr Jolliffe will teach you; he is the most competent in this ship: the sooner you ask him the better, and if you learn it as fast as you have Spanish, it will not give you much trouble.”

  Jack thought the advice good: the next day he was very busy with his friend Jolliffe, and made the important discovery that two parallel lines continued to infinity would never meet.

  It must not be supposed that Captain Wilson and Mr Sawbridge received their promotion instanter. Promotion is always attended with delay, as there is a certain routine in the service which must not be departed from. Captain Wilson had orders to return to Malta after his cruise. He therefore carried his own despatches away from England — from Malta the despatches had to be forwarded to Toulon to the admiral, and then the admiral had to send to England to the Admiralty, whose reply had to come out again. All this, with the delays arising from vessels not sailing immediately, occupied an interval of between five and six months — during which time there was no alteration in the officers and crew of his Majesty’s sloop Harpy.

  There had, however, been one alteration; the gunner, Mr Minus, who had charge of the first cutter in the night action in which our hero was separated from his ship, carelessly loading his musket, had found himself minus his right hand, which, upon the musket going off as he rammed down, had gone off too. He was invalided and sent home during Jack’s absence, and another had been appointed, whose name was Tallboys. Mr Tallboys was a stout dumpy man, with red face, and still redder hands; he had red hair and red whiskers, and he had read a good deal — for Mr Tallboys considered that the gunner was the most important personage in the ship. He had once been a captain’s clerk, and having distinguished himself very much in cutting-out service, had applied for and received his warrant as a gunner. He had studied the Art of Gunnery, a part of which he understood, but the remainder was above his comprehension: he continued, however, to read it as before, thinking that by constant reading he should understand it at last. He had gone through the work from the title-page to the finis at least forty times, and had just commenced it over again. He never came on deck without the gunner’s vade-mecum in his pocket, with his hand always upon it to refer to it in a moment.