The Cruise of the Frolic

“You draw a glowing picture of the country, Mr Porpoise,” observed Mrs Mizen.

“I do, ma’am, because the country deserves it,” he answered. “The world owes a great deal to Africa, and I should like to see every possible attempt made to repay it by continued and strenuous efforts for the civilisation of her people. The work is a very great one, there is no doubt about that, and a few feeble and isolated efforts will not accomplish it. The merchant princes of England must take the matter up, and send out several expeditions at the same time. The officers should be experienced, energetic men, the vessels well supplied with merchandise, and well-armed to protect it. But what can we hope for while the abominable slave-trade still flourishes? England is doing her best to put it down, but she is but ill supported by other nations. America, with all her boasting about freedom, protects and encourages those engaged in it; while France, professing to be the most civilised and liberal of countries, does the same. Spain and Portugal only occasionally pretend to interfere with a very bad grace, and secretly aid and abet the wretches carrying it on under their flag. I say, at any cost and at every cost, England must put it down. No matter if she goes to war with all the world to do so. It will be a glorious war for the most holy cause, and honest men will be able to pray with sincerity and faith, that heaven will protect her in it.”

“I am very glad to hear you speak so, Mr Porpoise,” said Mrs Mizen; “I will answer for it, that no war would be so popular among the women of England as a war against slavery and the slave-trade. No one worthy of the name of an Englishwoman would refuse to sell her jewels and every thing of value to support it.”

“That’s the spirit that will put it down, ma’am,” exclaimed Porpoise, enthusiastically. “When we sailors know that we have the prayers and good wishes of the ladies of England with us, we should very soon sweep all our enemies from the seas.”

The rest of the party responded in most respects to these sentiments. Hearty suggested that much might be hoped for from a wise and firm diplomacy, and by calmly waiting the course of events.

“No, no,” answered Porpoise. “That’s what the people in parliament say, when they want to shelve a question. Do nothing, and let affairs take their own course. It’s a very easy way of doing nothing, but that is not like you, Mr Hearty. You would manage the matter in a very different way, I’m sure, if it was left to you.”

“I should be very much puzzled if the question were left for me to decide it,” said Hearty. “What do you think I should do?”

“Oh, I will soon tell you what you would do,” replied Porpoise. “Why, you would look out for all the energetic, dashing officers you could find, and send them to the coast in command of as many fast steamers, and other small craft, with orders to overhaul every suspicious sail they could find on the coast. Then you would have a whacking big fleet in the Channel, and several others in different parts of the world. You would not forget to keep your coast defences in good order, and to have a compact well-disciplined army on shore, and a numerous trained militia, ready to call out at a moment’s notice. That’s what you and every other sensible man would do, Mr Hearty, and then I think we need have no fear that any one would causelessly attempt to molest us, or that we should be unable to make other nations keep their treaties with us.”

“Bravo, Porpoise, bravo!” cried Hearty. “I wish that you were Prime Minister, or First Lord of the Admiralty, or Dictator, or something of that sort for a short time. I doubt not but that you would get things in prime order in a very short time.”

While this conversation was going on, we were rapidly drawing in with the coast. Miss Mizen made two or three very masterly sketches, though the blue sea and water filled up the larger portion of the paper. The less there is in a subject the more does it exhibit a master’s talent if the picture is interesting.

A fresh breeze had been blowing all day, but towards evening the wind fell, and the cutter lay floating idly on the water. We were assembled after dinner as usual on deck, laughing, talking, yarn-spinning, and occasionally reading aloud, enjoying the moments to the full, and little dreaming of what a few short hours were to bring forth.

Evening was about to throw its dusky veil over the African shore. The idle flap of the mainsail showed us that there was a stark calm. A fish would occasionally leap out of the water, or the fin of some monster of the deep might be seen as it swam by in pursuit of prey, or a sea-bird would come swooping past to ascertain what strange craft had ventured into its haunts, ere it winged its way back to its roosting-place for the night, amid the crags of the neighbouring headland.

I was taking a turn on deck, when, as I looked over the side and measured our distance from the land, it appeared to me that, although the calm was so complete, we had considerably decreased our distance from it. Walking forward, I asked Snow if he had remarked any thing particular.

“Why, yes, sir; I was just going to speak to you or Mr Porpoise, about the matter,” he answered. “I’ve been watching the land for an hour or more past, and it strikes me that there is a strong current, which sets in-shore to the westward hereabouts; it’s just the sort of thing, which, if we hadn’t found out in time, might have carried us much too close in on a dark night to be pleasant; as it is, if a breeze doesn’t spring up, and we continue to drift in, we must just get the boats out and tow her head off shore, so there’ll be no great harm come of that.”

“You are right,” said I; “there’s little doubt about it; I’ll mention the matter to Mr Porpoise, and he’ll approve of what you propose. But I do not think there’s any use in letting the ladies know, or they’ll be fancying all sorts of dreadful things – that they are going to be cast on shore, or eaten up by lions, or murdered by savages. I should not like to give them any uneasiness which can be helped.”

I watched the old man’s countenance while I was speaking, to ascertain what he really thought about the matter. The truth was that I was not quite satisfied myself with our position. I had been along that coast some years before, looking into several of the ports; and I remembered that the Moors inhabiting the villages just above there, bore anything but a good character. I began to blame myself, when too late, for not having thought of this before. When the brig-of-war was with us, it mattered little; for no pirates would have ventured to come out to attack her: they would have known that she would have proved a dear bargain, even if they could ultimately have taken her, and very little value to them if taken, but with a yacht the case was different. We could not fail to appear a tempting prize, and easily won. Had we, however, been without ladies on board, we should, I expect, all have enjoyed the fun of showing the rascals that they had caught a Tartar, and am fully certain that we should have been able to render a good account of them.

I remember that these ideas crossed my mind as I walked the deck, waiting for an opportunity of speaking to Porpoise, who was still engaged in conversation with Mrs Mizen; then I burst into a fit of laughter at the thought of the ideal enemy I had so busily conjured up to fight with. Porpoise, who just then joined me, inquired the cause of my merriment.

“It suddenly occurred to me that we were off a somewhat ill-famed part of the coast, and I could not help fancying I saw half-a-dozen or more piratical row-boats come stealing out from under the cliffs there, with the intention of cutting our throats and rifling the vessel,” I answered; “but of course it is a mere fancy. I never heard of an English yacht being attacked by pirates hereabouts, and it would be folly to make ourselves anxious about such a bugbear.”

Now even while I was saying this I was not altogether satisfied in my own mind about the matter. If, as I before said, we had had only men on board, we might have fought to the last, and could only then have been killed; but should we be overpowered, the fate of the women committed to our charge would be too horrible to contemplate.

“I’m glad that you think there is no cause for apprehension,” said I to Porpoise. “Still it might be as well to keep a sharp look-out during the night, and should a breeze spring up, to give the coast a more respectful offing.”

“I’ll do that same,” he answered. “I feel no inclination to turn in myself, so that should any of the natives of whom you are suspicious be inclined to visit us, they may not find us altogether unprepared.”

The ladies soon after this retired to their cabin; we only then had an opportunity of mentioning the subject to Hearty. He rather laughed at the notion, but begged that he might be called when the fighting began. After taking a few turns on deck, he also turned in, and Porpoise was left in charge of the deck. I, after a little time, went to my cabin; it seemed too ridiculous to lose my night’s rest for the sake of an idea. I had slept about a couple of hours, when I awoke by hearing the sound of Porpoise’s voice. He was standing directly over my skylight, which, on account of the heat of the weather, was kept off.

“Can you make any thing out, Snow?” he asked.

“I think I can now, sir. It seems to me that there are four or five dark spots on the water, just clear of the shadow of that headland in there,” was the answer. “I can’t just make out what they are for certain.”

I was on deck in a few seconds, with my night-glass at my eye pointed in the direction indicated.

“What think you of their being row-boats?” said I. “They look wonderfully like them.”

“I can’t say that they are not,” answered the old man. “They may be rocks just showing their heads above water. But what, if they are boats, can they be doing out there at this time of night?”

“Coming to pay us a visit, perhaps,” I remarked. “We really should be prepared in case of accidents, Porpoise. By timely preparations we averted danger once before, when otherwise, in all probability, we should have had our throats cut. Do not let us be less wise on this occasion.”

“Certainly not,” said Porpoise; “and as discretion is the better part of valour, we will try and tow the cutter offshore. It will prolong the time till our visitors can overtake us, and will give us a better chance of having a breeze spring up. If we get that, we shall be able to laugh at any number of such fellows. They are only formidable when they can find a vessel becalmed. After all, I don’t say that those are pirates, and if it were not for the ladies on board, we would very quickly learn the truth of the case.”

The thorough John Bull spoke out in these remarks. Porpoise did not at all like the idea of flying from an enemy under any circumstances, and as he had to do it, he wished to find every possible reason for so doing.

“Turn the hands up and get the boats out, Snow; we’ll see what towing will do,” he continued. “You see that this current is setting us far too much in-shore, and, at all events, it is necessary to get a better offing before daybreak, lest no breeze should spring up in the morning to carry us back to the spot where Rullock was to find us.”

Three boats were got into the water and manned forthwith; Porpoise, Hearty, Snow, and I, being the only people remaining on board. The crews gave way with a will, and the cutter soon began to slip through the water. She went along, probably, faster than the current was carrying her in an opposite direction. These arrangements being made, I took another scrutiny of the suspicious objects under the land. I had no longer any doubt in my mind that they were boats, and that they were pulling out to sea towards us. It was now time to call up Hearty. We had seen no necessity before this of making him unnecessarily anxious, and the noise of lowering the boats had not roused him; indeed, he would have slept through a hurricane, or while a dozen broadsides were being fired, I verily believe, if not called. He was brisk enough, however, when once roused up. As I expected, he was very anxious at the state of affairs.

“We were thoughtless and unwise to stand in so close to this shore,” he remarked. “Brine, my friend, we must sink the cutter or blow her up rather than yield to those villains!”

He spoke with much emotion, and I could sincerely enter into his feelings. He did not utter a word of complaint against Porpoise or me, though I think he might have had some reason in blaming us for allowing the cutter to get into her present condition. He paced the deck with hurried steps, looking every now and then anxiously through the glass towards the objects we had observed, and then he would hail the boats.

“Give way, my lads – give way!” he shouted; “if any one knocks up, I’ll take his place.”

Again he looked through his glass.

“Can they be rocks?” he exclaimed. “I seen no alteration in their appearance.”

“I do, though, I am sorry to say,” I answered. “They have got considerably more out of the shade of the land since I first saw them.”

This became very evident after some time; nor could Hearty any longer doubt the fact. I counted five of them, largish boats (I suspected), each pulling some twenty oars or more, probably double-banked. Very likely each boat carried not much fewer than sixty men – fearful odds for the “Frolic” to contend with. The “Zebra” would not have found them altogether contemptible antagonists, if, as I said, my suspicions were correct as to their size. Still, I hoped that I might be mistaken; we could not be certain as to their object. They might be mere fishing-boats magnified by the obscurity, or coasters which had pulled out in the expectation of getting a breeze in the morning to carry them alongshore, or to get into some current which might set in the direction in which they wished to go. All these ideas I suggested to Hearty; still my original notion outweighed all others in my mind. Indeed I have always found it wisest to take the point of view which requires the most caution; precautions can, at the worst, only give a little trouble; the neglect of them may bring ruin and misery. On this principle I was most anxious to get as far as possible from the shore. No one was idle. Happily the ladies slept on, so that we had not the additional pain at feeling that they were left in a state of anxiety. Porpoise took the helm; Snow went forward to direct the boats how to pull; while Hearty and I busied ourselves in getting out the arms, arranging the ammunition, loading the guns, and muskets, and pistols; indeed, in making every preparation for a desperate struggle. The boats came on very warily. I suspected that we had been seen in the afternoon from the shore, and that as we appeared a tempting prize, the expedition had been planned to capture us.

“A very short time longer will settle the question,” said I to Hearty. “We must endeavour to keep them at a respectful distance as long as we can; should they once get alongside they would overpower us with their numbers. Happily these sort of gentry are as great cowards as they are scoundrels, and a firm front is certain to make them consider whether the profit is likely to be worth the risk of a battle.”

I have gone through a good many anxious moments in the course of my life, but never did I feel more apprehension for the result of an adventure than I did for that in which we were at present engaged. A waning moon had now risen, and showed us very clearly the number and character of the strangers – whether friends or foes was hereafter to be decided. Another look at them through my night-glass showed me that they were large boats, as I had suspected, and full of men.

“There is little use in making any farther efforts to escape,” said I to Hearty; “I would hoist in the boats and serve out some grog to the men. They want something after their exertions, though they do not require Dutch courage to defend the ship.”

Porpoise agreed to my suggestions; they were immediately put into execution. The men threw off their grog as coolly as if they had been about to sail a match at a regatta, instead being about to engage in deadly fight.

“Here’s to your health, Mr Hearty, and gentlemen all, and may we just give those scoundrels out there a thorough good drubbing if they attempt to attack us,” quoth Snow, in the name of his shipmates.

“Thank you – thank you, my men,” answered Hearty; “you’ll act like true-hearted Englishmen, and what men can do you’ll do, I know, to protect the helpless women we have on board. I won’t make you a long speech, you don’t want that to rouse your courage, but I do ask you not to yield while one man of us remains alive on deck.”

“That’s just what we are resolved to do, Mr Hearty; no fear, sir,” answered all hands, and they would have cheered lustily, had I not restrained them for two reasons: I was unwilling to awaken the ladies sooner than was necessary, and also should the pirates have expected to surprise us, it would be a great advantage if we, on the contrary, should be able to surprise them. I mentioned this latter idea to my companions, and they immediately entered into it. The Moors had been too far off to allow them to perceive us hoisting in the boats, so they could not tell but that we were all fast asleep on board. Accordingly, the guns were loaded up to the muzzle with langrage and musket-balls; pistols and cutlasses were served out to the men, and it was encouraging to see their pleased manner as they stuck the one into their belts, and buckled the other round their waists. Some had, in addition, muskets, and a reserve of small-arms was placed amidships to be resorted to in case of necessity. The men then went and lay down so as to be effectually concealed under the bulwarks: Porpoise and I only walked the deck, as if we were the ordinary watch, and we agreed to pretend to be looking seaward when the boats drew near, as if unconscious of their approach. Meantime Hearty went below to perform the painful task of informing the ladies of our dangerous position. He did it with his usual tact.

“Mrs Mizen,” I heard him say, “I must beg you and Miss Mizen to dress, but not to come on deck. We have got too close in-shore, and some Moorish boats appear to be coming off to us; they may not mean to do us any mischief, but it is as well to be prepared, and we do not intend to allow them to come too near to us.”

There was a short pause. I heard no exclamations of surprise or terror – no cries, or lamentations, or forebodings of evil, but Mrs Mizen simply answered in a firm voice: —

“We trust, then, Mr Hearty, to you and your companions to defend us, and may a merciful God give you strength to fight and beat off our assailants!”

“That’s a speech worthy of a true heroine,” exclaimed Porpoise, who had likewise overheard it. “Just the thing to strengthen our nerves, and to put true courage into us. I trust, Mrs Mizen, we shall not be long in beating off the pirates,” he added, looking down the skylight; “do you, in the mean time, keep snug below, and don’t mind the uproar.”

“Now, my lads, be ready; we mustn’t let the blackguards get on board to frighten the ladies, mind that. When I give the word, be up and at them.”

Porpoise having thus delivered himself, in accordance with our plan, pretended to be intently looking over the taffrail. The row-boats were all the time drawing disagreeably near, and I had no longer in my mind any doubt as to their character and intention. We, also, were anxiously looking out for a breeze which might enable us to meet them at greater advantage. I took a glance at the compass; as I did so I felt a light breeze fan my cheek; it came from the westward. The cutter’s head was at that time tending in-shore, for as soon as the boats had been hoisted in she had again lost all steerage-way, and had gradually gone round. Again the puff of air came stronger, and she gathered sufficient steerage-way to enable us to wear round just before the boats reached us. The pirates must have thought that we were very blind not to perceive them. Silently they pulled towards us in two columns: we let them approach within a quarter of a cable’s length. Just as a tiger springs on his prey, they pulled on rapidly towards us, evidently expecting to catch us unprepared.

“Now, my lads, up and at them?” sung out Porpoise, in imitation of the speech of a somewhat better-known hero.

Our jolly yachtsmen did not require a second summons. Up they sprang to their allotted duties.

“Steady!” added Porpoise, “take aim before you fire. Those forward aim at the headmost boats; let the after guns give account of those coming up next astern. Now give it them.”

The orders were comprehended, and executed promptly and well. Cries and groans and shouts from the row-boats followed the simultaneous discharge from our great-guns and small-arms. The pirates ceased rowing, and a second intervened before they fired in return, but their shot generally flew wide of us, our unexpected commencement of the action having evidently thrown them into not a little confusion. For an instant it occurred to me that we might have been too precipitate, and that perhaps after all they might not have been pirates, but for some reason or other had come off to us at that unseasonable hour. It was therefore, in one respect, a positive relief to me when they began to fire, and I discovered their real character. Still undaunted, on they came. Before, however, they could get alongside, our people had time to load again and fire; this time not a shot but took effect. The Moors did not relish the dose; some attempted to spring on board, but were driven back by pike and cutlass into the sea, Hearty setting the example of activity and courage by rushing here and there, cutting and thrusting and slashing away, so that he did the work of half a dozen men. Indeed I may say the same without vanity of all on board, or we could not have contended for a minute against the fearful odds opposed to us. The low deck of a yacht, it must be remembered, does not present the difficulties to assailants which even a brig-of-war or an ordinary high-sided merchantman is capable of doing. Ours was literally a hand-to-hand fight without the slightest protection, our slight bulwarks alone separating us from our enemies when they once got alongside. Happily the breeze increased, and giving us way through the water, the Moorish boats having failed to hook on to us, we once more slipped through them. Some of the men in the bows continued firing at us, but a little delay occurred before the rest could get out their oars to follow the cutter. The chiefs of each boat appeared to be holding a consultation, and I only hoped that they would come to the decision that the grapes were sour, or rather that the game was not worth the candle to play it by, as the Frenchmen say, and give up the pursuit. But they were not so reasonable; they probably thought that if we fought so desperately we had something on board worth fighting for; not considering that our lives and liberties were of very much consequence, and so they showed a resolution once more to attempt to overhaul us. This hesitation was much to our advantage, as it enabled us once more to load our guns up to the muzzle, and to take a steady aim as they came up. In all my fighting experience I have come to the conclusion that there is no system equal to that of waiting for a good opportunity, mustering all resources, and then, once having begun the attack, to continue at the work without relaxing a moment till the day is won. The Moorish pirates did not follow this course. At last came the tug of war. Their fury and thirst for vengeance was now added to their greed for plunder, and the boats ranged up on either side of the little “Frolic” with seemingly a full determination on the part of their crews to overpower us at once.

“Steady, my good lads, steady!” shouted Porpoise. “Remember, fire as before, and then load again as fast as you can.”

Off went our guns with good effect; while Hearty and I, and three or four others, armed with muskets, blazed away with them, taking up one after the other as fast as the steward could load them. The report of the guns must have been heard on shore, and far out to sea over that calm water, while the bright flashes lighted up the midnight air. Musket-balls and round-shot don’t often fly about without doing some damage; and while ours were telling pretty well among the thickly crowded boats of the Moors, we were not altogether free from harm. Two of our people had been wounded. One of them fell to the deck, and, from the way the poor fellow groaned, I was much afraid that he was mortally hurt. I drew him close to the companion-hatch, that he might, in a slight degree, be protected from further injury; but we were too hard pressed to spare any one for a moment from the deck to take him below. Hearty was passing close to me, when, by the flash of the guns, I saw him a give a sudden, convulsive movement with his left arm. I felt sure he was hit. I asked him.