Poor Jack

"They've only the stern windows to look out of: the quarter-galleries are boarded up."

"Then, Tom, just look if they have not beat them out, for you know they may climb on deck by them."

It was fortunate that Bramble mentioned this. I went aft with the handspike in my hand, and when I was about to look over, I met face to face a Frenchman, who had climbed out of the starboard quarter-gallery, and was just gaming the deck. A blow with the handspike sent him overboard, and he went astern; but another was following him, and I stood prepared to receive him. It was the officer in command, who spoke English. He paused at the sight of the other man falling overboard and my uplifted handspike; and I said to him, "It's of no use—look at the English men-of-war close to you: if you do not go back to the cabin, and keep your men quiet, when the men-of-war's men come on board we will show you no quarter."

We were now entering the Medway; and the Frenchman perceived that they could not escape, and would only bring mischief on themselves by any farther assaults, so he got into the quarter-gallery again, and spoke to his men. As soon as I perceived that he was entering, I ran over to the other side to the larboard quarter-gallery, and there again I found a Frenchman had nearly gained the deck. I levelled the handspike at his head, but he dodged, and returned to the cabin by the way he came; and after that there were no more attempts at recovering the vessel. In five minutes more we were abreast of the Euphrosyne, Sir James O'Connor's frigate, which was now lying, with only her lower masts in, alongside of the hulk. I hailed for assistance, and let fly the foretop-mast staysail sheet, while Bramble rounded the ship to. The boats were sent on board immediately; and as we had not a cable bent, they made the ship fast to the hulk astern of them. We stated our case in few words to the officer; and having ascertained that Sir James O'Connor was on board, requested that we might be sent to the frigate.

"Is it you?" said Sir James, as I came on the gangway; "what is it all about—are you hurt? Come down in the cabin."

Bramble and I followed him down into the cabin; and I stated the whole particulars of the capture and re-capture.

"Excellent—most excellent! I wish you both joy; but first we must have the surgeon here" Sir James rang the bell; and when the surgeon came he went on deck to give orders.

The ball had passed through my leg, so that the surgeon had little to do to me. Bramble's finger was amputated, and in a few minutes we were all right, and Sir James came down again.

"I should say, stay on board till you are able to get about again; but the ship will be paid off to-morrow, so I had better send you up to Chatham directly. You are entitled to salvage if ever men were, for you have earned it gloriously; and I will take care that you are done justice to. I must go now and report the vessel and particulars to the admiral, and the first lieutenant will send you to Chatham in one of the cutters. You'll be in good hands, Tom, for you will have two nurses."

We were taken up to Chatham to the hotel, where we found Lady O'Connor and Virginia very much surprised, as may be imagined, at our being brought there wounded. However, we were neither of us ill enough to go to bed, and had a sitting-room next to theirs.

This recapture made a great deal of noise. At first the agent for the prize wrote down a handsome letter to us, complimenting us upon our behavior and stating that he was authorized to present us each with five hundred pounds for our conduct. But Sir James O'Connor answered the letter, informing him that we claimed, and would have, our one-eighth, as entitled to by law, and that he would see us righted. Mr. Wilson, whom we employed as our legal adviser, immediately gave the prize agent notice of an action in the Court of Admiralty, and, finding we were so powerfully backed, and that he could not help himself, he offered forty thousand pounds, which was one-eighth, valuing the cargo at three hundred and twenty thousand pounds. The cargo proved to be worth more than four hundred thousand pounds, but Mr. Wilson advised us to close with the offer, as it was better than litigating the question; so we assented to it, and the money was paid over.

In a fortnight we were both ready to travel again. Sir James O'Connor had remained a week longer than he intended to have done at Chatham on our account. We now took leave of them, and having presented Virginia with five thousand pounds, which I had directed Mr. Wilson to settle upon her, we parted, the O'Connors and Virginia for Leamington, and Bramble and I for Deal.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Being the last Chapter, the Reader may pretty well guess the Contents of it.

"Tom, do you know that I very often find myself looking about me, and asking myself if all that has happened is true or a dream," said Bramble to me, as we sat inside of the coach to Dover, for there were no other inside passengers but ourselves. "I can't help thinking that great good fortune is as astounding as great calamity. Who would have thought, when I would, in spite of all Bessy's remonstrances, go round in that ship with you, that in the first place we should have been taken possession of by a privateer in the very narrows (he was a bold cruiser, that Frenchman)? After we were captured I said to myself, Bessy must have had a forewarning of what was to happen, or she never would have been, as I thought, so perverse. And since it has turned out so fortunately, I can't help saying how fortunate it was that we did not allow her to persuade us; for had we not both gone, nothing could have been done. Well, I think we may promise Bessy this time when we meet her, that we will not trust ourselves to salt water again in a hurry. What do you think, Tom?"

"No; I think the best thing I can do is to marry, and live on shore," replied I.

"Yes, Tom, that's it. Give me your hand, you don't know how happy you make me; we'll all live together. But where shall we live? for the poor little cottage that I thought quite big enough for us a month ago will not do now."

"We have plenty of time to talk that over, father. I love the cottage for many reasons; although, as you say, it is not large enough now for our means or future way of living."

"And I love it too, boy; I love to look out of the door and see the spot where my Bessy rescued me from death. God bless her! she is a noble girl, Tom, though I say it who—but I'm not her father, after all, and if I were, I would still say it."

"It is evident, by her letter to you, that she has been most anxious about us. What will she say when she hears we have both been wounded?"

"Ay! it wouldn't have done to have told her that, or she would have set off for Chatham, as sure as we are sitting here."

Here a pause ensued for some time, and we were busied with our own thoughts. The silence was at last broken by me.

"Father," said I, "I should like to ask my father and Peter Anderson to come down to us; they can easily get leave."

"Is it to be present at your wedding, Tom?"

"Exactly—if Bessy will consent."

"Well, I have no doubt of that, Tom; but she will now require a little courting, you know why."

"Why, because all women like it, I suppose."

"No, Tom; it is because she was in love before you were, d'ye understand?—and now that things are all smooth, and you follow her, why, it's natural, I suppose, that she should shy off a little in her turn. You mustn't mind that, Tom; it's a sort of soothing to the mortification of having at one time found herself, as it were, rejected."

"Well, I shan't mind that; it will only serve me right for being such a fool as not to have perceived her value before. But how do you understand women so well, father?"

"Because, Tom, I've been looking on and not performing all my life: except in one instance in a long life, I've only been a bystander in the way of courtship and matrimony. Here we are at last, and now for a chaise to Deal. Thank God, we can afford to shorten the time, for Bessy's sake, poor thing!"

We arrived at the cottage. The sound of the wheels had called out not only Bessy and Mrs. Maddox, but all the neighbors; for they had heard of our good fortune. Bessy, as soon as she had satisfied herself that it was Bramble and me, went into the cottage again. Once more we entered the humble roof. Bessy flew into her father's arms, and hung weeping on his shoulder.

"Haven't you a kind word to say for Tom?" said Bramble kissing her as he released himself.

"Does he deserve it, to leave me as he did, laughing at my distress? He had no right to treat me so."

"Indeed, Bessy, you do me injustice. I said at the time that I thought there was no risk, and I certainly did think there was none. Who would have expected a privateer half-way up the Thames, any more than a vessel with twenty men on board could be re-captured by two men?"

"Well, Bessy, you ought to make friends with him, for, without his arm, your father would not have been back here quite so soon. He beat down the Frenchmen, one after another, in good style, when they attempted to recover the vessel—that he did, I can tell you, wounded as he was."

"Wounded?" cried Bessy, starting, her eyes running over me to find out where.

"Yes, with a bullet in his leg; I didn't like to say a word about it in the letter. But I suppose if he had been killed you would not have cared?"

"Oh, father!" cried Bessy, as she turned toward me, and I received her in my arms.

Bessy soon recovered her smiles, and thankful for our preservation and good fortune, and satisfied with our mutual affection, we passed a most happy evening. Somehow or another Bramble, having sent Mrs. Maddox on a message, found out that it was very sultry indoors, and that he would take his pipe on the beach. He left me alone with Bessy; and now, for the first time, I plainly told her the state of my affections, and asked her to consent to be my wife. I did not plead in vain, as the reader may suppose from what he has already been made acquainted with.

After Bessy had retired, and I was sitting with Bramble, who had his glass of grog and pipe as usual, I made him acquainted with my success.

"All right, Tom," said he, "I'm thankful—and God bless you both."

And had I not reason also to be thankful? When I had retired to my room that night, I thought over the various passages in my life. What might I have been if Providence had not watched over me? When neglected in my youth, in a situation which exposed me to every temptation, had not old Anderson been sent as a guardian to keep me in the right path, to instruct me, and to give me that education without which my future success might have turned out a disadvantage instead of a source of gratitude? In Bramble, again, I had met with a father, to supply the place of one who was not in a situation to do his duty to me or forward me in life. In old Nanny I had met with a kind friend, one who, at the same time that she would lead me right, was a warning to me from her sufferings. To Mrs. St. Felix I was equally indebted, and had I not been permitted to pay the debt of gratitude to both of them? Even my mother's harshness, which appeared at first to my short-sightedness to have been so in-defensible, was of great advantage to me, as it had stimulated me to exertion and industry, and pointed out to me the value of independence. Was I not also most fortunate in having escaped from the entanglement of Janet, who, had I married her, would, in all probability, have proved a useless if not a faithless helpmate; and still more so, in finding that there was, as it were, especially reserved for me the affection of such a noble, right-minded creature as Bessy? My life, commenced in rags and poverty, had, by industry and exertion, and the kindness of others, step by step progressed to competence and every prospect of mundane happiness. Had I not, therefore, reason to be grateful, and to feel that there had been a little cherub who had watched over the life of Poor Jack? On my bended knees I acknowledged it fervently and gratefully, and prayed that, should it please Heaven that I should in after life meet any reverse, I might bear it without repining, and say, with all humility, "Thy will and not mine, O Lord, be done!"

How bright was the next morning, and how cheerful did the dancing waves appear to me!—and Bessy's eyes were radiant as the day, and her smiles followed in rapid succession; and Bramble looked so many years younger—he was almost too happy to smoke—it was really the sunshine of the heart which illumined our cottage. And thus did the few days pass, until Anderson and my father made their appearance. They were both surprised at Bessy's beauty, and told me so. They had heard that she was handsome, but they were not prepared for her uncommon style; for now that her countenance was lighted up with joy, she was indeed lovely.

"Well, Tom," observed my father, "there's only one thing which surprises me."

"What is that?"

"Why, how, with such a fine craft in view, you could ever have sailed in the wake of such a little privateer as—but I must not mention her—never mind, don't answer me that—but another question—when are you going to be spliced?"

"Very soon, I hope; but I really don't exactly know. All I can say is the sooner the better."

"And so say I. Shall I bring up the subject on the plea of my leave being only for ten days?"

"Yes, father, I wish you would, as it is really a good reason to allege for its taking place immediately."

"Tom, my dear boy," said old Anderson, "from what I can perceive, you have great reason to be thankful in having obtained this young woman for your future partner in life. I admire her exceedingly, and I trust in Heaven that you will be happy."