"Rest a.s.sured of that," remarked the chaplain. "And now I would say a few words to Saull Ley. You spoke of dying with a quiet conscience if you got forgiveness from the man you might have so cruelly injured, had you not been struck down by the hand of an avenging G.o.d; but you have not only forgiveness to seek from man, but from One who is mighty to save, who has the power and the will to wash away all your sins, if you put your entire faith and trust in Him, and repent you heartily of your former life."

"I cannot, I dare not. He wouldn't listen to such a wretch as me.

Don't tell me to go to Him. Find some other means of saving me--isn't there? There must be. Do tell me of it!"

"There is none--none whatever," answered the chaplain. "Do not refuse the only means--a sure means--by which even the greatest of sinners may be saved."

"Oh, go on, sir, go on; tell me all about it," moaned the unhappy man.

"I've often before now thought of giving up my bad ways. I wish that I had done it long ago."

The chaplain looked at Dr McCall, to learn whether he might continue talking to the wounded man. The doctor signified that he might, but that it would be better if there were fewer persons present.

"Yes; but he must first sign the evidence he has given," observed the purser, who was of necessity a good man of business. "Not only must the innocent escape punishment, but the guilty must be punished."

He accordingly wrote down the statement made by the wounded seaman, and, after reading it to him, put a pen into his hand to sign it. Ley took the pen and hurriedly wrote his name. He did not speak. Suddenly the pen fell from his hand--a shudder came over his frame--without a groan he fell back in his hammock.

"What has happened?" asked the chaplain.

"He has gone to his long account," answered Dr McCall.

Alas! how many die like him, talking and thinking about repentance, and saying that they will put their trust in Christ, but never go to Him, never repent!

With a heart truly thankful for the dangers I had escaped and the mercies vouchsafed to me, I returned to my hammock, and slept more soundly than I had done for many a night. The next morning, after breakfast was over, all hands were piped on deck, and the captain sent for me. I found him and all the officers a.s.sembled on the quarter-deck.

"I have sent for you, Weatherhelm," said the captain, "to tell you that I am very glad you have escaped what would have been a very cruel and unjust punishment. My lads, you know that this man was accused not long ago of a very great crime. I rejoice to say that I have proof, undoubted, that he is entirely innocent. The man who accused him is dead, but he left evidence not only that this man is innocent, but that a most vile attempt has been made to accuse him falsely. I know the man; let him beware that he is not caught in the trap he has laid for another."

While the captain was speaking, I caught sight of Iffley's countenance.

Again I observed on it that expression of hatred and baffled vengeance, and when he himself was so palpably alluded to, there was mixed with it no small amount of craven apprehension. The stern eye of the captain ranged over the countenances of the crew, it rested a moment on him. He quailed before it.

"Pipe down!" cried the captain.

Those of the crew not on duty went below. Many of the more steady men came up to me, and congratulated me on my escape, and I found in a short time that I had numbers of friends on board. Had it not been for the thought of my wife, and of my wish to return home, I should have been happy.

Iffley never came near me. He seemed to dread me far more than I dreaded him. I could not conceive what harm he could possibly do me now that he was known, and must have been aware that he was watched. Still I felt that it would be wiser to be on my guard against him.

When the excitement of the occurrences I have described had pa.s.sed away, a reaction took place, and I once more began to feel the misery of my position. It seemed like some horrid dream, and sometimes I almost hoped that I should awake and find that I was at home all the time, and that the scenes I was going through were but the effects of a dreadful nightmare.

I frequently found myself reasoning on the subject, but there was a vividness and reality about everything which made me too justly doubt the soundness of my hopes. I had, before I was pressed, more than once been afflicted with a dream so like the present reality, that, as I say, I nearly persuaded myself that I was dreaming now. I had been torn away from my wife without being able to tell her where I was going. I sailed over strange seas without a kit, and without any preparation for the voyage; cast upon strange lands among savages, and had barely escaped with my life; I had wandered about among a variety of extraordinary scenes, and I had found on awaking that scarcely an hour had pa.s.sed since I fell asleep. But day after day went by, and at length I felt very well a.s.sured that I was not dreaming a dream, but living through the sad reality. My great desire was to write home, at least to say where I was, and that I was well; but no opportunity occurred, not a homeward-bound ship did we pa.s.s.

We had been several weeks at sea, when one morning two sail were reported in sight from the masthead. They were standing towards us.

The idea was that they were two homeward-bound English merchantmen. I accordingly got ready a letter to send home by one of them to my wife.

As they drew near, however, they showed French colours. It was clear, we thought, that they had mistaken us for a French squadron. We accordingly hoisted French colours, and they ran on close under our guns. We then changed our colours for English, and fired a shot across their bows. They were evidently taken by surprise, and did not seem to know what to do. We fired another shot to quicken their imagination.

On this they hove-to and hauled down their colours.

Directly afterwards a boat came alongside from each or the strangers.

The masters of the ships apparently were in them. They came on deck, and inquired what we wanted, and why we fired at them? They spoke tolerably good English, though in the French fashion.

"Why, gentlemen, I am sorry for your sakes to say that war has again broken out between England and France, and that we purpose to make prizes of your ships."

The poor Frenchmen looked very indignant, and then very unhappy, and stamped and swore and plucked the hair in handfuls from their heads. I thought they would have gone out of their minds, they seemed so miserable and furious; but they were allowed to rage on, and no one interfered with them.

At last our captain observed that it was the fortune of war, and a misfortune to which many brave men were subject; whereon they re-echoed the sentiment, shrugged their shoulders, and in ten minutes were laughing and singing as if everything had turned out exactly as they could have wished it.

The captain ordered two of the midshipmen to go on board the prizes to carry them home. How the sound of the order set my heart beating! I had my letter ready to send. Could I but form one of their crews. I could scarcely venture to ask the favour.

Several men were chosen for each vessel. I understood that their numbers were complete. Again my heart sank within me. My hopes had vanished. I was standing with my letter in my hand, when I saw Dr McCall go up to the captain. Directly afterwards I was called up.

"I understand, my man," said our captain, "that you have strong reasons for wishing to return home. You shall go in one of the prizes; get your bag ready."

How I blessed him for his kind words. In ten minutes I was on board the largest prize. She was ship-rigged, called the _Mouche_, and bound from the Isle of France to Bordeaux. Mr Randolph was the name of the midshipman sent in charge of her.

As I left the side of the _Albion_, I saw Charles Iffley looking out at one of the ports. His features bore more strongly than ever the marks of hatred and anger, and when he saw that I was for a time beyond his reach, he shook his fist at me with impotent rage.

The mates and some of the French crews were sent on board the _Albion_; but two or three blacks and several Frenchmen remained on board the ships to help to navigate them. Still we were all together but very short-handed.

The other prize was the _Nautile_. She was a very handsome ship, and soon gave evidence that her sailing qualities were superior to those of the _Mouche_.

I could scarcely believe my senses when I found myself actually on board a ship homeward-bound. I might in a few short weeks once more be united to my wife, instead of being kept away from her as I expected perhaps for years. The sudden turn of fortune almost overcame me.

As I had had some difficulty in believing in the reality of my misery, now I felt it scarcely possible to trust in the reality of my happiness.

Too great for me seemed the joy. Yet I never antic.i.p.ated for a moment that any evil could possibly be in store for me at the end of my voyage.

I brought what I thought would be the reality clearly before my eyes.

I pictured to myself my wife in our quiet little home, looking out on the ever-animated waters of the Solent, and the fleets of men-of-war and Indiamen and large merchantmen of all sorts brought up at Spithead. I thought of her, anxiously waiting to receive news of me; and then she rose up to my sight, as I thought she would be when she received notice that I had once more returned safe in limb and health to my native land.

I had no doubt that I should be able to pay for a subst.i.tute, and thus be free from the risk of being again pressed and sent to sea. All before me appeared bright and encouraging.

Mr Randolph, the officer sent in charge of the _Mouche_, although still a midshipman, had seen a good deal of service, and was a brave young man. He had a difficult duty to perform. The _Mouche_ turned out a very slow sailer, and was excessively leaky, so that we always had to keep three or four hands employed at a time at the pumps. Of course we made the Frenchmen do this work, at which they grumbled not a little; but we told them that had their ship not been leaky, they would not have had to pump, and that they had no reason to complain. They did not much like our arguments, for they said that if we had not made prize of their vessel, they should have been quietly continuing their voyage.

Including the blacks, there were eight Frenchmen on board, while, with Mr Randolph, we only mustered seven in all. We had therefore to keep a very constant look-out over them, lest they should attempt to take the vessel from us, a trick which more than once had before been played, and sometimes with success.

I had always thought Mr Randolph a good-natured, merry, skylarking youngster; but the moment he took charge of the prize, he became a most diligent, careful officer. He was always on deck, always on the look-out, at all hours of the day and night.

I cannot say so much in favour of the officer who had charge of the _Nautile_. He was a mate, and consequently superior in rank to Mr Randolph. Unfortunately they had had some dispute of long standing, and Mr Simon, the mate I speak of, never lost an opportunity of showing his enmity and dislike to his younger brother officer. Here we had a practical example of how detrimental to the interest of the service are any disputes between officers.

To return, however, to the time when we first got on board our respective prizes, as they lay hove-to close to the _Albion_. The signal to us to make sail to the northward was hoisted from her masthead, and while she stood away after the tea-chests, we shaped a course for England.

How different must our feelings have been to those of the unfortunate Frenchmen, who saw the ships sailing away from them, while they had to go back to be landed they could not tell where, many months elapsing before they would again return to their families!

The trade winds were at this time blowing across our course,--indeed almost ahead, so that we made but very slow progress. At first we kept close enough together, though there was no interchange of civilities between the two crews. When we were within hail, and the _Nautile_ was going along with her main-topsail yard on the cap, while we had every sail set, and our yards braced sharp up, her people jeered and laughed at us, and called us slow coaches, and offered to give us a tow, and asked what messages they should take to our wives and families in England. This they only did when the officers were below. We replied that it was no fault of ours, that if they liked to exchange ships, we could say the same to them, but that we would not, for we could tell them that it was not pleasant to be taunted for nothing.

At last Mr Simon, standing one day on his taffrail, speaking-trumpet in hand, hailed and asked Mr Randolph if he could not manage to make his ship walk along somewhat faster, for at this rate they would never get to England.

"Greater haste, worst speed, Simon," answered Mr Randolph. "I've been doing my best to make the _Mouche_ move faster, but she's a slow fly, and I cannot do it. Besides, she is very leaky, and we have had hard work to keep her afloat."

"Let her sink, then," answered Mr Simon; "I do not see why she should be delaying us, and giving us a double chance of being retaken by the enemy."

"While I live and have a man who will stick by me, I'll stick by the ship put under my charge," replied Mr Randolph; "still I must beg you to remain by us. My own people and I will do our best to keep he afloat. When we find we can do so no longer, we will claim your a.s.sistance, and get you to take us on board."

"Oh, is that what you calculate on? We'll see about it," was Mr Simon's very unsatisfactory reply.