The Harpy made the African coast, the wind continued contrary, and they were baffled for many days; at last they espied a brig under the land, about sixteen miles off; her rig and appearance made Captain Wilson suspect that she was a privateer of some description or another, but it was calm, and they could not approach her. Nevertheless, Captain Wilson thought it his duty to examine her; so at ten o’clock at night the boats were hoisted out: as this was merely intended for a reconnoitre, for there was no saying what she might be, Mr Sawbridge did not go. Mr Asper was on the sick-list, so Mr Smallsole the master had the command of the expedition. Jack asked Mr Sawbridge to let him have charge of one of the boats. Mr Jolliffe and Mr Vigors went in the pinnace with the master. The gunner had the charge of one cutter, and our hero had the command of the other. Jack, although not much more than seventeen, was very strong and tall for his age; indeed, he was a man grown, and shaved twice a week. His only object in going was to have a yarn for the Governor when he returned to Malta. Mesty went with him, and, as the boat shoved off, Gascoigne slipped in, telling Jack that he was come to take care of him, for which considerate kindness Jack expressed his warmest thanks. The orders to the master were very explicit; he was to reconnoitre the vessel, and if she proved heavily armed not to attack, for she was embayed, and could not escape the Harpy as soon as there was wind. If not armed he was to board her, but he was to do nothing till the morning: the reason for sending the boats away so soon was, that the men might not suffer from the heat of the sun during the day-time, which was excessive, and had already put many men on the sick-list. The boats were to pull to the bottom of the bay, not to go so near as to be discovered, and then drop their grapnels till daylight. The orders were given to Mr Smallsole in presence of, the other officers who were appointed to the boats, that there might be no mistake, and the boats then shoved off. After a three hours’ pull, they arrived to where the brig lay becalmed, and as they saw no lights moving on board, they supposed they were not seen. They dropped their grapnels in about seven fathoms water and waited for daylight. When Jack heard Captain Wilson’s orders that they were to lie at anchor till daylight he had sent down Mesty for fishing-lines, as fresh fish is always agreeable in a midshipman’s berth: he and Gascoigne amused themselves this way, and as they pulled up the fish they entered into an argument, and Mr Smallsole ordered them to be silent. The point which they discussed was relative to boat service; Gascoigne insisted that the boats should all board at once — while our hero took it into his head that it was better they should come up one after another; a novel idea, but Jack’s ideas on most points were singular.

  “If you throw your whole force upon the decks at once, you overpower them,” observed Gascoigne; “if you do not, you are beaten in detail.”

  “Very true,” replied Jack, “supposing that you have an overpowering force, or they are not prepared; but recollect, that if they are, the case is altered; for instance, as to fire-arms — they fire theirs at the first boat, and they have not time to reload, when the second comes up with its fire reserved; every fresh boat arriving adds to the courage of those who have boarded, and to the alarm of those who defend; the men come on fresh and fresh. Depend upon it, Gascoigne, there is nothing like a corps de reserve.”

  “Will you keep silence in your boat, Mr Easy, or will you not?” cried the master; “you’re a disgrace to the service, sir.”

  “Thank ye, sir,” replied Jack, in a low tone. “I’ve another bite, Ned.”

  Jack and his comrade continued to fish in silence till the day broke. The mist rolled off the stagnant water, and discovered the brig, who, as soon as she perceived the boats, threw out the French tricolour and fired a gun of defiance. Mr Smallsole was undecided; the gun fired was not a heavy one, and so Mr Jolliffe remarked; the men, as usual, anxious for the attack, asserted the same, and Mr Smallsole, afraid of retreating from the enemy, and being afterwards despised by the ship’s company, ordered the boats to weigh their grapnels.

  “Stop a moment, my lads,” said Jack to his men, “I’ve got a bite.” The men laughed at Jack’s taking it so easy, but he was their pet; and they did stop for him to pull up his fish, intending to pull up to the other boats and recover their loss of a few seconds.

  “I’ve hooked him now,” said Jack; “you may up with the grapnel while I up with the fish.” But this delay gave the other boats a start of a dozen strokes of their oars, which was a distance not easy to be regained.

  “They will be aboard before us, sir,” said the coxswain.

  “Never mind that,” replied Jack; “some one must be last.”

  “But not the boat I am in,” replied Gascoigne; “if I could help it.”

  “I tell you,” replied Jack, “we shall be the corps de reserve, and have the honour of turning the scale in our favour.”

  “Give way, my lads,” cried Gascoigne, perceiving the other boats still kept their distance ahead of them, which was about a cable’s length.

  “Gascoigne, I command the boat,” said Jack, “and I do not wish my men to board without any breath in their bodies — that’s a very unwise plan. A steady pull, my lads, and not too much exertion.”

  “By heavens, they’ll take the vessel before we get alongside.”

  “Even if they should, I am right, am I not, Mesty?”

  “Yes, Massa Easy, you are right — suppose they take vessel without you, they no want you — suppose they want you, you come.” And the negro, who had thrown his jacket off, bared his arm, as if he intended mischief.

  The first cutter, commanded by the gunner, now gained upon the launch, and was three boats’-lengths ahead of her when she came alongside. The brig poured in her broadside — it was well directed, and down went the boat.

  “Cutter’s sunk,” exclaimed Gascoigne, “by heavens! Give way, my men.”

  “Now, don’t you observe, that had we all three been pulling up together, the broadside would have sunk us all?” said Jack, very composedly.

  “There’s board in the launch — give way, my men, give way,” said Gascoigne, stamping with impatience.

  The reception was evidently warm; by the time that the launch had poured in her men, the second cutter was close under the brig’s quarter — two more strokes and she was alongside; when of a sudden a tremendous explosion took place on the deck of the vessel, and bodies and fragments were hurled up in the air. So tremendous was the explosion, that the men of the second cutter, as if transfixed, simultaneously stopped pulling, their eyes directed to the volumes of smoke which poured through the ports, and hid the whole of the masts and rigging of the vessel.

  “Now’s your time, my lads, give way and alongside,” cried our hero.

  The men, reminded by his voice, obeyed — but the impetus already given to the boat was sufficient. Before they could drop their oars in the water they grazed against the vessel’s sides, and, following Jack, were in a few seconds on the quarter-deck of the vessel. A dreadful sight presented itself — the whole deck was black, and corpses lay strewed; their clothes on them still burning, and among the bodies lay fragments of what once were men.

  The capstern was unshipped and turned over on its side — the binnacles were in remnants, and many of the ropes ignited. There was not one person left on deck to oppose them.

  As they afterwards learned from some of the men who had saved their lives by remaining below, the French captain had seen the boats before they anchored, and had made every preparation; he had filled a large ammunition chest with cartridges for the guns, that they might not have to hand them up. The conflict between the men of the pinnace and the crew of the vessel was carried on near the capstern, and a pistol fired had accidentally communicated with the powder, which blew up in the very centre of the dense and desperate struggle.

  The first object was to draw water and extinguish the flames, which were spreading over the vessel; as soon as that was accomplished, our hero went aft to the taffrail, and looked for the cutter which had been sunk.— “Gascoigne, jump into the boat with four men — I see the cutter floats a quarter of a mile astern: there may be some one alive yet. I think now I see a head or two.”

  Gascoigne hastened away, and soon returned with three of the cutter’s men; the rest had sunk, probably killed or wounded by the discharge of the broadside.

  “Thank God, there’s three saved!” said Jack, “for we have lost too many. We must now see if any of these poor fellows are yet alive, and clear the decks of the remnants of those who have been blown to pieces. I say, Ned, where should we have been if we had boarded with the pinnace?”

  “You always fall upon your feet, Easy,” replied Gascoigne; “but that does not prove that you are right.”

  “I see there’s no convincing you, Ned, you are so confoundedly fond of argument. However, I’ve no time to argue now — we must look to these poor fellows; some are still alive.”

  Body after body was thrown through the ports, the habiliments, in most cases, enabling them to distinguish whether it was that of a departed friend or foe.

  Jack turned round, and observed Mesty with his foot on a head which had been blown from the trunk.

  “What are you about, Mesty?”

  “Massa Easy, I look at dis, and I tink it Massa Vigor’s head, and den I tink dis skull of his enemy nice present make to little Massa Gossett; and den I tink again, and I say, no, he dead and nebber thrash any more — so let him go overboard.”

  Jack turned away, forgiving Vigors in his heart, he thought of the petty animosities of a midshipman’s berth, as he looked at the blackened portion of a body, half an hour before possessing intellect.

  “Massy Easy,” said Mesty, “I tink you say right, anyhow, when you say forgive: den, Massa Vigors,” continued Mesty, taking up the head by the singed hair, and tossing it out of the port, “you really very bad man — but Ashantee forgive you.”

  “Here’s somebody alive,” said Gascoigne to Jack, examining a body, the face of which was black as a cinder and not to be recognised, “and he is one of our men too, by his dress.”

  Our hero went up to examine, and to assist Gascoigne in disengaging the body from a heap of ropes and half-burned tarpaulings with which it was entangled. Mesty followed, and looking at the lower extremities said, “Massa Easy, dat Massa Jolliffe, I know him trousers; marine tailor say he patch um for ever, and so old dat de thread no hold; yesterday he had dis patch put in, and marine tailor say he damn if he patch any more, please nobody.”

  Mesty was right; it was poor Jolliffe, whose face was burned as black as a coal by the explosion. He had also lost three fingers of the left hand, but as soon as he was brought out on the deck he appeared to recover, and pointed to his mouth for water, which was instantly procured.

  “Mesty,” said Jack, “I leave you in charge of Mr Jolliffe; take every care of him till I can come back.”

  The investigation was then continued, and four English sailors found who might be expected to recover, as well as about the same number of Frenchmen; the remainder of the bodies were then thrown overboard. The hat only of the master was picked up between the guns, and there were but eleven Frenchmen found below.

  The vessel was the Franklin, a French privateer, of ten guns and sixty-five men, of which eight men were away in prizes. The loss on the part of the vessel was forty-six killed and wounded. On that of the Harpy, it was five drowned in the cutter, and eighteen blown up belonging to the pinnace, out of which total of twenty-three, they had only Mr Jolliffe and five seamen alive.

  “The Harpy is standing in with a breeze from the offing,” said Gascoigne to Easy.

  “So much the better, for I am sick of this, Ned; there is something so horrible in it, and I wish I was on board again. I have just been to Jolliffe; he can speak a little; I think he will recover. I hope so, poor fellow; he will then obtain his promotion, for he is the commanding officer of all us who are left.”

  “And if he does,” replied Gascoigne, “he can swear that it was by having been blown up which spoiled his beauty — but here comes the Harpy. I have been looking for an English ensign to hoist over the French, but cannot find one; so I hoist a wheft over it — that will do.”

  The Harpy was soon hove-to close to the brig, and Jack went on board in the cutter to report what had taken place. Captain Wilson was much vexed and grieved at the loss of so many men: fresh hands were put in the cutter to man the pinnace, and he and Sawbridge both went on board to witness the horrible effects of the explosion as described by our hero.

  Jolliffe and the wounded men were taken on board, and all of them recovered. We have before stated how disfigured the countenance of poor Mr Jolliffe had been by the smallpox — so severely was it burned that the whole of the countenance came off in three weeks like a mask, and every one declared that, seamed as it still was, Mr Jolliffe was better looking than he was before. It may be as well here to state that Mr Jolliffe not only obtained his promotion, but a pension for his wounds, and retired from the service. He was still very plain, but as it was known that he had been blown up, the loss of his eye as well as the scars on his face were all put down to the same accident, and he excited interest as a gallant and maimed officer. He married, and lived contented and happy to a good old age.

  The Harpy proceeded with her prize to Mahon. Jack, as usual, obtained a great deal of credit; whether he deserved it, or whether, as Gascoigne observed, he always fell upon his feet, the reader may decide from our narrative; perhaps there was a little of both. The seamen of the Harpy, if summoned in a hurry, used very often to reply, “Stop a minute, I’ve got a bite” — as for Jack, he often said to himself, “I have a famous good yarn for the Governor.”

  Chapter Twenty Three.

  Jack goes on another cruise — love and diplomacy — Jack proves himself too clever for three, and upsets all the arrangements of the high contracting powers.

  A few days after the arrival of the Harpy at Port Mahon, a Cutter came in with despatches from the admiral. Captain Wilson found that he was posted into the Aurora frigate, in which a vacancy had been made by the result of our hero’s transgressions.

  Mr Sawbridge was raised to the rank of commander, and appointed to the command of the Harpy. The admiral informed Captain Wilson that he must detain the Aurora until the arrival of another frigate, hourly expected, and then she would be sent down to Mahon for him to take the command of her. Further, he intimated that a supply of live bullocks would be very agreeable, and begged that he would send to Tetuan immediately.

  Captain Wilson had lost so many officers that he knew not whom to send: indeed, now he was no longer in command of the Harpy, and there was but one lieutenant, and no master or master’s mate. Gascoigne and Jack were the only two serviceable midshipmen, and he was afraid to trust them on any expedition in which expedition was required.

  “What shall we do, Sawbridge? shall we send Easy or Gascoigne, or both, or neither? — for if the bullocks are not forthcoming, the admiral will not let them off as we do.”

  “We must send somebody, Wilson,” replied Captain Sawbridge, “and it is the custom to send two officers, as one receives the bullocks on board, while the other attends to the embarkation.”

  “Well, then send both, Sawbridge, but lecture them well first.”

  “I don’t think they can get into any mischief there,” replied Sawbridge; “and it’s such a hole that they will be glad to get away from it.”

  Easy and Gascoigne were summoned, listened very respectfully to all Captain Sawbridge said, promised to conduct themselves with the utmost propriety, received a letter to the vice-consul, and were sent with their hammocks and chests in the cabin on board the Eliza Ann, brig, of two hundred and sixteen tons, chartered by government — the master and crew of which were all busy forward heaving up their anchors.

  The master of the transport came aft to receive them: he was a short red-haired young man, with hands as broad as the flappers of a turtle; he was broad-faced, broad-shouldered, well-freckled, pug-nosed; but if not very handsome he was remarkably good-humoured. As soon as the chests and hammocks were on the deck, he told them that when he could get the anchor up and make sail, he would give them some bottled porter. Jack proposed that he should get the porter up, and they would drink it while he got the anchor up, as it would save time.

  “It may save time mayhap, but it won’t save porter,” replied the master; “however, you shall have it.”

  He called the boy, ordered him to bring up the porter, and then went forward. Jack made the boy bring up two chairs, put the porter on the companion hatch, and he and Gascoigne sat down. The anchor was weighed, and the transport ran out under her fore-topsail, as they were light-handed, and had to secure the anchor. The transport passed within ten yards of the Harpy, and Captain Sawbridge, when he perceived the two midshipmen taking it so very easy, sitting in their chairs with their legs crossed, arms folded, and their porter before them, had a very great mind to order the transport to heave-to, but he could spare no other officer, so he walked away, saying to himself, “There’ll be another yarn for the Governor, or I’m mistaken.”

  As soon as sail was made on the transport, the master, whose name was Hogg, came up to our hero, and asked him how he found the porter. Jack declared that he never could venture an opinion upon the first bottle— “So, Captain Hogg, we’ll trouble you for a second” — after which they troubled him for a third — begged for a fourth — must drink his health in a fifth, and finally, pointed out the propriety of making up the half-dozen. By this time they found themselves rather light-headed, so, desiring Captain Hogg to keep a sharp lookout, and not to call them on any account whatever, they retired to their hammocks.

  The next morning they awoke late; the breeze was fresh and fair: they requested Captain Hogg not to consider the expense, as they would pay for all they ate and drank, and all he did, into the bargain, and promised him a fit-out when they got to Tetuan.