Mr. Midshipman Easy - Frederick Marryat (best ereader for students TXT) 📗

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 someone 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 Vigors’ head, and den I tink dis skull of his enemy nice present make to little Massa Cossett; 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.

“Massa Easy,” said Mesty, “I link 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-burnt 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 urn for ever, and so old dat de thread no hold; yesterday he had dis patch put in, and marine tailor say he be d-n if he patch anymore, please nobody.”

Mesty was right; it was poor Jolliffe, whose face was burnt 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 spoilt 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 small-pox-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.”