Under Wolfe's Flag; or, The Fight for the Canadas

CHAPTER V

THE FIGHT WITH THE FRIGATE

There was no little excitement aboard when it became known that the distant sail, "hull down" upon the horizon, was probably a French frigate.

"Look at her white canvas, and her large, square yards!" exclaimed Jamie. "She must be a man-of-war, and even if she's only a frigate she'll carry thirty guns against our ten, and treble the number of men."

"If she is a Frenchman she'll sink us, that's certain, though I hope Captain Forbes will make a fight of it," replied Jack, who could not entirely suppress a feeling akin to dread, as he watched the approaching ship.

"There's just a chance that she may be a friend, after all, for even the English cruisers do not always show their colours to the quarry until all chance of escape is cut off."

"It's just possible, of course, for there should be plenty of them hereabouts. Mr. Rogers tells me that last year they brought no less than three hundred French ships and their crews into English ports."

Breakfast was served as soon as the excitement aboard the

Duncan

 had abated somewhat, and afterwards the captain assembled the crew and addressed them as follows–

"Lads, we're now within two hundred leagues of the New England coast, and we're carrying a valuable cargo. 'Tis our duty to save it if we can, but yonder is a fast and powerful frigate in our wake, who won't show any colours, though mine have been flying at the mast-head this half-hour."

"Hurrah! hurrah!" burst from the men, as they saw the ensign they loved so well unfurled to the breeze.

"That's right, lads! I'm glad to see that you're not ashamed to fight for the old flag," exclaimed the captain.

"We'll die for it, captain, if need be!" shouted several of the men, and no wonder, for 'tis remarkable the courage that even a flag inspires in the presence of an enemy, especially when that enemy dares to insult it.

"The fact that he has not yet shown his colours," went on the captain, "means that we've an enemy in our wake. Still, if this breeze holds we may outsail him, but if we can't do that we've got to fight him."

"Aye! aye! sir! Let's fight him."

"No Frenchman shall ever take my ship while I live. I'll blow her up first. Mark my words, lads. I will!" This was spoken in such a fierce, but deliberate manner that the men all saw that Captain Forbes meant it, and they responded with a ringing cheer, which rent the air like a broadside, and filled each heart with courage and determination.

"So now, lads, let's clear the decks, and prepare for the worst."

"Aye! aye! sir!"

And the men went to work as only British tars can work. They cleared the decks of everything that was useless in an action. They cleaned and loaded the guns, but they did not as yet open the port-lids to run them out, lest the lower decks should be swamped, and the ship delayed. They ran out the boarding-nets, and brought up the powder, wads and shot. They got ready their cutlasses and boarding-pikes, and in every way possible prepared to meet a daring foe.

"Tell the men aloft to keep a sharp lookout. We may sight an English frigate at any moment, and then we shall see some fun, Mr. Rogers."

"Aye! aye! captain. That we shall," replied the mate.

Slowly the distant frigate gained upon the

Duncan

, and before noon it could be easily seen from the deck, though still some five leagues distant. Nearer and nearer she came, and every man aboard the

Duncan

 had now made up his mind that a fight was the only possible ending, and the sooner it came, the better.

The second mate, Mr. Hudson, and Jamie were in the fore-top now, and just before dinner the captain hailed them, and said–

"Ho, there! Can you make out her armament yet?"

"Pretty well, sir."

"How many guns does she carry?"

"Twenty-six, I fancy, sir, for I can make out thirteen portholes on her starboard side."

The captain trod the deck impatiently, looking anxiously first at the approaching frigate, and then into the weather quarter, as though he anticipated a change.

"I fear the wind's dropping, Mr. Rogers," he said to the first mate, who paced the deck beside him. "We shall have a calm shortly," and within another half-hour the wind moderated, and shortly after that it blew spasmodically, and the frigate, now only two leagues away, was "laying on and off," trying to catch every breath of wind. The sails then flapped idly against the masts, and there followed a dead calm, when both ships lay helpless upon a mirrored sheet of glass.

A puff of blue smoke broke away from one of the starboard guns of the enemy, as she now lay broadside on towards the English ship, and then–

"Boom!" came a report, rumbling over the water.

At the same instant the French flag was broken at the mast-head.

"I thought as much, lads! Now we know who she is, and what she wants. That shot is a demand for surrender. What are those other flags he's hanging out, Mr. Hudson?"

"He's signalling, sir. Wants to know if we've struck. What shall I tell him, sir?"

"Tell him we haven't struck yet, but we'll do so as soon as he comes a little nearer, in the same way that Englishmen always strike."

At these words, which were heard all over the ship, a rousing cheer, which the Frenchman must have heard and wondered at, rang across the water, for it summed up the feelings of every man aboard. Shortly after this, the event which every one was expecting, from the captain down to the youngest cabin boy, happened.

"They're preparing to lower away the boats, sir. They mean to cut us out," came from the fore-top.

"Stand ready, my lads. Load every gun with grape-shot, lads, but don't fire till I give the order."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

One, two, three boats had been lowered, and filled with armed men. Each pulled ten oars, and there were at least thirty men in each boat, now pulling towards the

Duncan

.

Guns were run out; matches lit; cutlasses and pikes kept handy; but for the next half-hour a deep silence pervaded the ship's company. The men spoke not, for every order had been given, except that one for which they were all waiting; but the glow which was upon every cheek, and the sparkle which was in every eye, showed the tense feeling which animated the men. It was as though every man heard the words–

"In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength."

Jamie and Jack were both stationed at the same gun, one of the twelve-pounders on the port-side, amidships. This was their first action, and they had a strange feeling at this moment. It was not fear, for who could fear with the eye of that brave commander upon them from the quarter-deck. It was rather a feeling of mingled awe and suspense. Oh, how slowly the moments crawled! Five–ten–twenty minutes passed.

They could now hear the swish of the enemy's oars as they fell in measured strokes upon the water. Nearer and nearer they came. The first boat was now scarcely a cable's length away, when–

"Fire!" came in a voice of thunder from the poop.

Every gun that had been brought to bear belched forth its contents of flame and iron. The deadly missiles sped on their way, carrying death and destruction.

As soon as the smoke had cleared away, the awful effect of this concentrated fire could be seen. The first boat was literally blown to pieces; nothing was left of it but broken fragments, and the sea seemed full of struggling creatures, whose cries were pitiful. The second and third boats, however, were untouched, and while one went to the assistance of the first, the other dashed alongside, and with a wild cry of vengeance, the men clambered up the side and attempted to board.

"Repel boarders! Give it 'em, lads!" cried the captain, and seizing their pikes and cutlasses the men left the guns and attacked the enemy, who came on cheering, led by their brave officers. The third boat had stopped but to pick up a few stragglers, and then joined their comrades. There were now sixty or seventy men attempting to board the merchantman, but very few of them reached the deck, for the nets impeded their progress, and the stalwart defenders hurled them back into the sea.

The carnage was frightful. No quarter was asked, and none was given. The guns were silent now. It was hand-to-hand. Once the enemy succeeded in cutting away the nets, and an intrepid officer, followed by a few men, gained the deck, but in a trice Captain Forbes was amongst them, hewing his way with his long cutlass. A dozen men sprang to his assistance, and in less time than it takes to tell it, the intruders were stretched dead or wounded upon the deck.

At another time the alarm was given that the Frenchmen had gained the poop. Alas, it was only too true; some of them had clambered up and in at the stern windows, and had thus gained the upper deck. There was not a moment to spare, for already they were attempting to turn one of the brass swivels on the poop upon the crew.

"Follow me, lads!" cried the captain, as he sprang aft and up the companion ladder, and every man who could leave his post followed him, including Jamie and his chum.

A dreadful hand-to-hand fight took place. The men fought like tigers. Only two of the enemy escaped who had reached the poop, and these were glad to leap into the sea, to escape those avenging English, who fought like demons.

While this fierce scuffle was taking place, something happened that had passed unnoticed until it was too late. The wind, which had dropped to a dead calm, had sprung up and freshened rapidly from the nor'-east, and the frigate, receiving the first benefit of the breeze, had crept in nearer to the ship, and almost before Captain Forbes could get his vessel under way, the enemy poured in his first broadside of thirteen guns, with an awful, crashing effect. The ship staggered, and shook from stem to stern at this fearful impact. Down came the foremast, and went over the side, carrying with it a tangle of wreckage, torn sails and rigging, giving the vessel a heavy list to starboard, and killing several men on the spot. More than twenty men were killed or wounded within a few minutes, for broadside now followed broadside.

"Cut away that rigging, lads!" cried the captain.

They were almost his last words. As he seized a hatchet and sprang forward to cut away the wreckage, a cannon ball shattered his right arm, and even as he fell, a musket ball pierced his breast, and he fell upon the blood-stained deck. Jack rushed forward to support him, and tried to staunch his wounds, but the captain shook his head and lapsed into unconsciousness.

It was a most unequal fight, but the men still fought on stubbornly. Half the guns were dismantled, and there were not enough unwounded men to serve the rest, but every gun that could be manned was double-loaded and fired with such precision, that great havoc was worked upon the enemy's decks, which were much more crowded than those of the English ship.

For another hour the unequal contest continued, and the French were preparing to board again, when the

Duncan's

 main-top-mast went over the side with a crash, bringing down with it the colours, which had till now floated proudly over the wreckage of the merchantman.

This crash awoke the captain to consciousness for a moment, and he noticed the colours, hanging over the side, as he half raised himself and endeavoured to assume command.

"The colours! the colours!" he cried. "Take the ensign aloft, some one!"

Jamie, who was bending over him, heard and understood. He seized the ensign, tattered and torn as it was, and tore it away. The next moment he sprang into the mizzen shrouds, for that was the only mast remaining. Amid a shower of bullets from the French sharpshooters, he reached the crosstrees. As he reached the top-gallant yard a shaft of pain seemed to grip his left shoulder; still, up he went, and in another moment he had made fast the colours above the mizzen-royal yard.

A moment only he stayed there–to wave his hat in defiance at the enemy, whose bullets still whistled around him. This daring act was not lost upon a gallant foe. The French captain ordered his men to cease firing at

ce brave fils

, and a cheer even broke from the cruiser's deck as he began to descend.

It was with difficulty that he came down from that perilous post, for his left arm was useless owing to the bullet wound in his shoulder, from which the blood had been flowing freely. Everything about was now becoming blurred and indistinct.

When at last he reached the deck the captain, supported by Jack and the second mate, was breathing with great difficulty, but he beckoned Jamie to him. Smiling faintly, and holding out his hand, which the lad grasped, he was only able to whisper–

"Well done! We'll go down with colours flying!"

Then he raised his eyes, to look once more at that tattered ensign, floating bravely at the mizzen, and even while he gazed at it, still holding the lad's hand, his eyes became fixed in death, and that torn flag was the last thing that he saw on this side.

Thus died a brave sailor, and an English gentleman, whose courage and fidelity had perhaps passed unnoticed but for this brief record. And they laid him gently against the foot of the broken main-mast.

"Why, what's the matter, Jamie? You're wounded, too!" exclaimed Jack, one of the few still aboard who remained unwounded.

As Jamie looked at the dead captain the mists swam before his eyes, and he reeled and fell beside his leader, his idol and example, who had died at the post of duty for his ship, and the honour of his country.

"And how can man die better,

Than facing fearful odds,

For the ashes of his fathers,

And the temples of his gods."

"Wake up, Jamie! Wake up! Oh, comrades, he's dying. Speak, Jamie! Speak!" he cried in an agony of bitterness, quite heedless of the shots that still flew around; but his comrade spoke not, for he had swooned away from weakness and loss of blood.

In Jamie's ears the roar of battle now seemed afar off, like the murmur of a distant stream. The smoke, the enemy and the battle faded from his vision, for it seemed to him that he still sat in the old school-house at Burnside, and Jack was beside him, while Dr. Birch, book in hand, was speaking of the heroic deeds of ancient days–of Hector and Achilles, of Diomed and Ajax, of Æneas and Ulysses.

CHAPTER VI

PRISONERS OF WAR

"You've fought like Britons, lads! You've done all that brave men could do! It remains for us but to die like heroes," cried Mr. Rogers, the first mate, who, though seriously wounded himself, had led the fight since the captain fell.

The remnant of the crew cheered these words of the mate, who was already leaning on a dismantled gun for support.

And what a remnant it was! Out of a crew of fifty, only nineteen men remained alive, and most of these were wounded. The condition of the ship, which had sustained this unequal contest, was pitiable in the extreme. Both the fore-mast and the main-topmast were over the side, giving the

Duncan

 a heavy list to starboard. In several places her hull was almost rent asunder, while her decks forward were partly awash. Each instant she threatened to founder.

The merchantman had fought for three hours with one of the best French frigates afloat, and several times she had repelled boarders. The enemy's broadsides had ripped open some of her seams, and there were already eight feet of water in the hold. The last gun was put out of action, owing to the angle of the decks.

"There's one more shot in the locker, lads, and by Davy Jones, if the Frenchmen attempt to board us again I'll send them aloft!" exclaimed Mr. Rogers, half raising himself from the gun to look at the frigate, whose fire had now considerably slackened.

Suddenly the "Cease fire!" was sounded aboard the French ship, and Jack, leaving Jamie to the care of a seaman for a moment, clambered up the steep deck to see what had happened.

"They're sending a boat, Mr. Rogers!" he cried. "She'll be alongside in a minute, sir. Shall I hail them?"

"Tell them that if they set a foot aboard my ship I'll fire the powder-magazine and blow the vessel up," cried the first officer fiercely.

The boat came quickly alongside, and an officer hailed them. "Do you strike, messieurs? Do you strike?" he called, in a queer accent, half French, half English. "If so, haul down that ensign, messieurs, if you pleeze!"

Jack leapt into the mizzen shrouds. "Stand off, messieurs!" he shouted. "Come aboard at your peril, and we will blow up the ship!" At these words a panic seized the boarders. Those who were climbing up the side hastily dropped back again into the boat, which quickly pulled off, lest the terrible threat should be carried out.

Then Captain Alexandre, seeing that nothing was to be gained, and that the

Duncan

was on the point of foundering, sent his chief officer with a second boat offering the highest honours of war. His respect for a gallant enemy was such that he did not even ask them to lower that tattered ensign, which still floated proudly at the mizzen-top, where Jamie had made it fast. The carnage had already been dreadful, and he knew that unless he offered honourable terms, men like these would infinitely prefer to go down with a sinking ship than lower their colours.

The terms offered to the Englishmen were as follows: They were to remain prisoners of war aboard the frigate until she reached Quebec, when the captain would mention their honourable and brave conduct to the Governor, and if he were willing, they should then receive their liberty.

"And what is the alternative?" asked Mr. Rogers.

"The alternative," replied the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders and looking uneasily around the horizon, as though he half expected to see an English cruiser appear in the distance, "is, that you may take your luck aboard this derelict. But come, gentlemen, make up your minds quickly. The

Sapphire

 must sail within half-an-hour."

The mate cast his eyes around and saw but a helpless wreck, with piles of dead and wounded upon her decks. At that instant the vessel gave a sudden lurch as though preparing to descend into the gulfs, and some one cried–

"Look out! She's going, lads!"

"M'sieur, for the sake of these brave men, who have wives and children, I accept your generous conditions, but, for myself, I will stay with the captain." And at these words a deathly pallor spread over the mate's face. He lifted his hands to his eyes, as though to shut out the sight of the dead. Then he reeled and fell. They picked him up, but he was dead. So they laid him beside his captain and carried the wounded aboard the frigate. Jamie and three others were still unconscious when they reached the frigate's deck. The rest stood by to see the last of their old ship. It was a sight never to be forgotten. They could distinctly see the body of Captain Forbes propped against the stump of the mast, with more than half of his crew lying dead beside him, as the derelict went down.

"Hist! She's going!" came a hollow cry, which was half a sob, as they clustered around the bulwarks of the foreigner.

"Stand by to fire a salute!" cried Captain Alexandre, who was a chivalrous Frenchman.

And as the

Duncan

 took her final plunge, and the tattered ensign went under, the

Sapphire

paid her last tribute of respect to a valiant foe by a salute of seventeen guns.

Scarcely had the smoke rolled away and the last reverberation ceased, when the frigate turned her head towards the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and left that lonely, watery grave behind.

Jamie's wound was not very severe, although at times it was exceedingly painful, and after the ball had been extracted from his shoulder, he soon recovered much of his usual health.

Jack was his constant attendant. Day and night he scarcely left him, but nursed him most assiduously with all the solicitude of a mother; and no wonder, for Jamie was a hero now, and with all the ship's company too. His bravery in carrying the colours aloft on a sinking ship, with the bullets flying all around him, and his body a mark for all the enemy's sharpshooters, his persistence in completing the task, after a bullet had shattered his shoulder–this had made him a conspicuous hero, not only amongst his comrades, but also amongst the officers and crew of the

Sapphire

.

Jamie, however, like all true heroes, bore his triumphs modestly and his wound patiently, though, to tell the truth, he was just a little proud of the latter, and especially was he proud of Captain Forbes' words to him when he regained the deck–

"Well done!" He would never forget those words, spoken as the captain breathed his last.

Jack, however, was just a little envious of Jamie's first wound, for, strange to say, although Jack had been in the thick of the fight, and the men had fallen around him in heaps, yet he had not received a scratch during the whole engagement.

What exciting adventures had already fallen to the lot of these two lads since they left the old school and village so precipitately! Yet even these adventures were but a foretaste, compared with those that yet awaited them out there, in the west.

Every day Jamie grew stronger, and as he and Jack paced the deck they talked of all these strange events which had happened to them since they left Burnside. What was the old Squire thinking of now, when his last and youngest son had left him to fight for the Empire? What did Old Click and Mr. Beagle say when they found the village lock-up empty and the birds flown? And old Dr. Birch, what did he think of the truants?

And they laughed over it all, with all the sang-froid and carelessness of youth, and yet they grieved when they remembered their friend, Captain Forbes, in his ocean grave. They could ill-spare him, yet the memory of him would always be with them, to spur them on to brave and manly deeds, for he had died like an English gentleman, and a brave son of Empire, fighting to the last for the flag that he loved, as many a man still would do, before that great land out there, beyond the ship's bow–the Canadas–would pass from the hands of the French, to become, as the ages unfolded, the greatest jewel in the British Crown.

But what did the future contain for them? They often asked each other this question, as at evening they watched that great ball of fire descend into the azure main. And when they had watched that shaft of crimson fade into a duller glow, they retired to the cabin that had been allotted to them, and pledged each other that, come good or ill, they would be friends and comrades–to the Gates. And if God willed it–for at this time they were specially drawn to think of His mercies and His watchfulness over them–they would yield their lives a willing sacrifice, like Captain Forbes, at the shrine of duty. For while their country needed men to fight her battles, whether by land or sea, even at the farthest bounds of Empire they would faithfully serve and as willingly die.

That pledge was never forgotten, and through all the dangers and misadventures that befell them, amid the virgin, trackless forests and the rivers and great lakes of North America, it was never broken.

Thus the voyage continued, with calm seas and fair winds, for more than a week, but the journey to the Gulf was not destined to be entirely without excitement, for one afternoon, when the wind had freshened a bit from the south-east, they were all startled by a sudden cry from the watch aloft of–

"Sail ho!"

"Where away?" called the officer of the watch.

"To the south-west, low down, sir!"

After a careful examination the sail was made out to be nothing less than an English cruiser, on the watch-out for the enemy's ships, and Captain Alexandre, feeling that after his recent fight he was in no fit condition to meet such a foe, crowded on all sail and stood away N.N.W. with the cruiser in full chase.

All the afternoon the chase continued, and the cruiser was slowly but surely gaining, and had it not been that towards evening the frigate ran into a fog off the Banks of Newfoundland, there is little doubt but that she would soon have been overhauled and compelled to fight, and would in all probability have been captured.

All night the Frenchman kept on, changing his course several times to dodge his pursuer, and next morning, although the fog had lifted, the English cruiser was nowhere to be seen.

Two days afterwards they entered the Gulf; leaving Louisburg and the Ile Royale on their left they stretched across that vast inland sea, and in another four days entered the St. Lawrence River.

The lads were charmed by the wonderful scenery which bordered the river. The bold cliffs and headlands, and the forest-lined banks, the same which Jacques Cartier and his brave little band of voyagers beheld for the first time in 1535, when through every inlet in this great continent they sought a way to the spicy groves of the East Indies, and the far-famed and wondrous, but distant, Cathay, which they fondly imagined lay beyond this new continent, as in truth it really did.

While the frigate was working her way up the St. Lawrence, an incident occurred that was destined to have important consequences on the after-life of our two heroes.

When the ship was anchored for the night off one of the small French settlements below Quebec, a fierce Iroquois chief was brought aboard as a prisoner. A great price had been set upon his scalp by the French Governor, for he was the greatest chief in all the "Five Nations," and his people had been the bitterest enemies of the Canadas, since the days of Champlain.

"What a fine warrior he is!" said Jack. "What a pity he is to be put to death when he reaches Quebec!"

"Fine, indeed!" said one of the soldiers who had brought him aboard. "He has taken more paleface scalps than any man of his race!"

He was a man of powerful stature, with a defiant look, and an eye as proud and piercing as that of the eagle had once been, whose long white feathers now adorned his hair. Erect and brave, with a sullen ferocity of demeanour, he looked scornfully upon his captors, whose petty tyrannies and insults could not drag from him an exclamation of anger or pain, for he seemed possessed of all the stoicism for which his race was famous.

The fierce and implacable Iroquois, who formed that wonderful confederation called the Five Nations, consisting of the Mohawks, Senecas, Onondagas, Oneidas, and the Cayugas, and later the Tuscaroras, were the most powerful of all the Indian tribes. They were the deadly enemies of the Canadas, and during the whole period of the French wars were the irreconcilable foes of the latter, and more or less the faithful allies of the English, though their paleface friends did not always show them that consideration which was their due.

They jealously guarded the passes and rapids that lay between Quebec and Mont Royale (Montreal) and right away to the "Thousand Islands" and the lakes, they took every occasion to harass the French, who had come to steal their lands, to rob them of their hunting-grounds, and drive them towards the setting sun.

They scalped all the outlying bands of soldiers who had the misfortune to fall into their hands; they waylaid the fur-traders and the

voyageurs

, destroyed the harvests and burned the villages of the settlers beyond the forts.<