Frederick Marryat
The Privateer's-Man, One hundred Years Ago
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4064066161422
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I.
We cruise off Hispaniola—Capture a French Ship—Continue our Cruise—Make a Nocturnal Attack upon a Rich Planter’s Dwelling—Are repulsed with Loss.
To Mistress——.
Respected Madam,
In compliance with your request I shall now transcribe from the journal of my younger days some portions of my adventurous life. When I wrote, I painted the feelings of my heart without reserve, and I shall not alter one word, as I know you wish to learn what my feelings were then, and not what my thoughts may be now. They say that in every man’s life, however obscure his position may be, there would be a moral found, were it truly told. I think, Madam, when you have perused what I am about to write, you will agree with me, that, from my history, both old and young may gather profit, and, I trust, if ever it should be made public, that, by divine permission, such may be the result. Without further preface, I shall commence with a narrative of my cruise off Hispaniola, in the Revenge privateer.
The Revenge mounted fourteen guns, and was commanded by Captain Weatherall, a very noted privateer’s-man. One morning at daybreak we discovered a vessel from the masthead, and immediately made all sail in chase, crowding every stitch of canvas. As we neared, we made her out to be a large ship, deeply laden, and we imagined that she would be an easy prize, but as we saw her hull more out of the water she proved to be well armed, having a full tier of guns fore and aft. As it afterwards proved, she was a vessel of 600 tons burden, and mounted twenty-four guns, having sailed from St. Domingo, and being bound to France.
She had been chartered by a French gentleman (and a most gallant fellow we found him), who had acquired a large fortune in the West-Indies, and was then going home, having embarked on board his whole property, as well as his wife and his only son, a youth of about seventeen. As soon as he discovered what we were, and the impossibility of escape from so fast a sailing vessel as the Revenge, he resolved to fight us to the last. Indeed, he had every thing to fight for; his whole property, his wife and his only child, his own liberty, and perhaps life, were all at stake, and he had every motive that could stimulate a man. As we subsequently learnt, he had great difficulty in inspiring the crew with an equal resolution, and it was not until he had engaged to pay them the value of half the cargo provided they succeeded in beating us off, and forcing their way in safety to France, that he could rouse them to their duty.
Won by his example, for he told them that he did not desire any man to do more than he would do himself, and perhaps more induced by his generous offer, the French crew declared they would support him to the last, went cheerfully to their guns and prepared for action. When we were pretty near to him, he shortened sail ready for the combat, having tenderly forced his wife down below to await in agony the issue of a battle on which depended every thing so dear to her. The resolute bearing of the vessel, and the cool intrepidity with which they had hove to to await us, made us also prepare on our side for a combat which we knew would be severe. Although she was superior to us in guns, yet the Revenge being wholly fitted for war, we had many advantages, independent of our being very superior in men. Some few chase-guns were fired during our approach, when, having ranged up within a cable’s length of her, we exchanged broadsides for half an hour, after which our captain determined upon boarding. We ran our vessel alongside, and attempted to throw our men on board, but met with a stout resistance. The French gentleman, who was at the head of his men, with his own hand killed two of our stoutest seamen, and mortally wounded a third, and, encouraged by his example, his people fought with such resolution, that after a severe struggle we were obliged to give it up, and retreat precipitately into our own vessel, leaving eight or ten of our shipmates weltering in their blood.
Our captain, who had not boarded with us, was much enraged at our defeat, stigmatizing us as cowards for allowing ourselves to be driven from a deck upon which we had obtained a footing; he called upon us to renew the combat, and leading the way, he was the first on board of the vessel, and was engaged hand to hand with the brave French gentleman, who had already made such slaughter among our men. Brave and expert with his weapon as Captain Weatherall undoubtedly was, he for once found rather more than a match in his antagonist; he was slightly wounded, and would, I suspect, have had the worst of this hand-to-hand conflict, had not the whole of our crew, who had now gained the deck, and were rushing forward, separated him from his opponent. Out-numbered and over-matched, the French crew fought most resolutely, but notwithstanding their exertions, and the gallant conduct of their leader, we succeeded in driving them back to the quarter-deck of the vessel. Here the combat was renewed with the greatest obstinacy, they striving to maintain this their last hold, and we exerting ourselves to complete our conquest. The Frenchmen could retreat no further, and our foremost men were impelled against them by those behind them crowding on to share in the combat. Retreat being cut off, the French struggled with all the animosity and rage of mingled hate and despair; while we, infuriated at the obstinate resistance, were filled with vengeance and a thirst for blood. Wedged into one mass, we grappled together, for there was no room for fair fighting, seeking each other’s hearts with shortened weapons, struggling and falling together on the deck, rolling among the dead