 CHAPTER XI EPICNIC AND WHAT CAME OF IT For the next few days I was very busy, acting as a sort of representative for Blake. And queer enough were some of the jobs on which I was engaged. For two whole days I was collecting clocks, out of which Blake and the other skippers constructed some extraordinary infernal machines, destined for several dummy torpedo boats that Blake had invented and set great store by. The idea was to make the dummies explode if rammed by any craft. These dummies were made in a very simple fashion. A couple of shoreboats covered all over with tarpaulin were set some fifty feet apart, and a light tree trunk lashed four and aft between them, and to this was attached a framework bearing a rough general resemblance to the hull of a ninety foot long torpedo boat. In the water the thing floated topside down, the boats forming imitation conning towers, while a little canvas well tarred and stiffened with iron rods and hoops made a very presentable funnel and other decorections. Some planks of midships made a good resting place for the explosive that was destined to be packed there, if we could get it. And, regarded from a little distance, especially at night, the craft looked very like a small, genuine torpedo boat. We constructed seven of these dummies altogether, stowing them on board the colliers as soon as completed. It was while this task was going on that I happened to get on the sick list. There was nothing particular the matter with me, so said the doctor from the speedy. A good tramp ashore on the hills would probably put me right, but I felt altogether run down. All you subs want is a good run ashore, he said, to keep your livers from getting sluggish. Blake, hearing of the Medeco's verdict, fell in with the idea at once. I'll send a lot of you, I think. You're only in the way on board ship. You'd better fix up a picnic or something of that sort on the hills. Hence it came about that, the next day, eight or nine of us, accompanied by a cart loaded with hampers of good things, toiled up the steep winding road, past the golf links and across the moorland beyond. Here, looking down upon our ships and harbor, reduced to the size of cockleshells, we drank in the pure mountain air and gazed away over Holy Island to the distant Scotch coast. Here, too, we emptied the cart in picnic and right royal fashion. It was a glorious relaxation after being cooped up on board ship for so long. It was a pleasure in itself to lie amidst the sweet-smelling heather and golden gorse and feel that we lived. By and by we split up into smaller parties, from going along the road to Brodick, others remaining where they were, no longer anxious for fresh exertion. Thorn had gone on to Brodick with another sub and an engineer from the Speedy, a very decent sort, and by and by I wished I had gone, too. I could still see them, little specks in the distance, when I started to follow. But it was one thing to see them, another to be able to attract their attention and get them to wait while I caught them up. Gradually they disappeared, going down the dip of a hill, and I had begun to despair of catching them when I remembered a shortcut through a wood which I had learned some two or three years before when we had been at Lamblash for the maneuvers. It was contrary to Blake's orders to leave the main road. He had made a chart of the exact course we were to follow, so that in the event of any ship being sighted from the hill the cart could come along the road and fetch us back. But the temptation was too strong for my weary legs, and soon I was breast-high in the brake-fern on my way to the little wood. Here the beauty of the scene, tinted with the glories of autumn, was too much for me, and I sat down to rest a while, and dream by the side of a little stream that babbled through the fern-grown rocks with a soft, lulling murmur like the music of angels. I sat amused, and presently I must have fallen asleep. You have put the wire in cipher, of course. The voice awoke me with a start, and little wonder, for it was the voice of Mr. Fergus, well known in the city. Of course," replied another voice, greens, and I reckon we ought to make a mighty pile out of this. Yes, if nothing goes wrong. You're sure you've got everything prepared, I hope? Everything. Photos of the fleet as I took them the other day. Positive proof, quite positive. Names of principal officers, and everything enough to convince the most hopeless skeptic. But, bless you, the report alone will send them up like one o'clock. I dared not move, as I had at first intended. Chance had made me overhear what seemed to be a deliberate plan to wreck Blake's scheme for the salvation of England, and I was determined to hear the last of it, so as to know how to set to work to circumvent them. Well, continued Green, after a pause. What arrangements have you made? Have you seen the girl? Seen her? I've done nothing but see her for the last two days till I'm sick to death of her. Promises of money didn't seem enough to work the oracle, so I promised to marry her. As well promise an L as an inch, you know? He added, laughing. Yes. Well, it's a good thing you picked her up. I'd made sure that that infernal outside broker of a ship's captain had collared every boat in the island. It's pleasant to find that he's not so smart as he reckons himself. He did collar all that were afloat, but he didn't chance to find old Davy's boathouse, thank the fates. Well, the girl ought to be here by this. Tis and her rule to keep her prospective husband waiting. Ah, here she comes. From my hiding place in the ferns I caught a glimpse of a yellow-haired freckled blast hastening down the path I had recently come by. Well, my dear, said Fergus, here you are. You know my friend Mr. Green, so don't mind him. Now, you must give this to old Davy yourself, mind, and tell no one. Not tell a soul. It's for some nice dresses and pretty things for you to be married in, so if it doesn't go over at once, without the ships and harbour knowing of it, mind, for they'd try and steal it. If it doesn't go over to-night, we shan't be able to be married at all, and I shall go away and never see you again. And you mustn't let even old Davy know who it's from. Now give me a kiss, my dear, and hurry off. The girl promised readily enough, gave the desired salute, and went along the path in the direction of Brodick. I guess we'd better be moving on, too, said Green. Poor little girl, he added, with a momentary twinge of remorse, seems a pity to deceive or so, too, but... can't be helped, said the other shortly. If our gallant pirate in the harbour catches old Davy, as there is a risk, of course, well, he'll never associate us with the affair. Huh! I'm not so sure of that. However, if it does fall through, we've still another chance, whereas, going ourselves, we should risk everything in one deal. I had scarcely patience to wait until they were out of your shot. Then I jumped up and ran as hard as I could towards Brodick, catching sight of the girl before she had reached the village. As I ran, I had had dim visions of snatching the telegram out of her hand, but a little thought convinced me that she would air this, have secreted it about her person, so any attempt to obtain possession of it by force would have its awkward side. Fortune favoured me again, as it chanced. Air the girl had reached the village, and while I was yet hesitating as to what course to pursue, young fishermen sprang out of the hedge and confronted her. The girl screamed and hid her face in her hands, while I, feeling that I was doomed to go through life playing the eavesdropper, hastily got inside a field. Give me that letter! Angrily cried the man in the scotch dialect that I shall not attempt to reproduce here. I've got no letter, let me pass," she answered. That's a lie, a wicked, sinful lie, for which you will go to hell and burn. I saw him give it to you myself, there! He retorted in a passion of jealous rage. The girl's hand involuntarily went to her bosom, and in a moment his rough fingers had torn open her dress and seized the faithful telegram. Thrusting the weeping girl from him, he held it aloft and laughed. So he shouted, You would be having letters from your new sweetheart, and forget all about your old one! He tore the missive into fragments, turned on his heel, and ran away down the hill, leaving the girl crying bitterly by the roadside. Overjoyed at the turn of events, I hastened on to product. I felt sorry for the girl, and sorry, too, for her native lover, and, impelled by some inner force, felt it my duty to try and mend matters. I stopped as I reached her, and sought to explain that she was being made a fool of. But, woman-like, she would have none of it, and finally giving it up as a bad job, I went all my way. In the village, just outside the hotel, I met the fisherman. He, at least, could be made useful to us. Briefly as possible, I sought to explain to him how the land lay, and though the projected money transactions were beyond him, he understood enough to know that treachery was afoot. Finally, I impressed upon him the advisability of watching Green in Fergus, telling him that if he only let Captain Blake know where to lay hands on them, they would trouble him and his no more. This done, and feeling that I had secured a valuable ally, I went on into the hotel, where Thorn and the others still were. Telling them of what I had overheard, we hurriedly retraced our steps, and, reaching the cart an hour later, galloped down the hill towards the harbour for all we were worth. Reaching the rattle, I told Blake of my adventure. He was thunderstruck at the news, but cast about it once for means how to act. It never occurred to you, I suppose, to find out who was, old Davy, and where he lived? No, I answered, startle. Pom, my word, I was full enough never to think of it. Still, Brodick, I suppose. If it is Brodick, we may be in time, otherwise we may be too late. He hastily gave orders for the rattle to weigh at once, signaling his news and intentions to the other captains. And in a very short time we were steaming out of the northern entrance, and round to Brodick as hard as we could pelt. You see, explained Blake, they have heard all about it from the girl air this, and for ought I know, they will have started themselves, knowing what any further delay might probably mean. At Brodick we got as close and sure as possible. Then, our boat being lowered, Blake was rode towards the land. As the boat was speeding thither, a man hailed us repeatedly from the pier. Tisn't here, he cried to Blake. They've gone in old Davy's launch some time ago. Which way? I don't know, sir, which way, but they went some two or three hours since. Back as hard as you can row, I heard Blake order, and I got ready to be off the moment he should come on board. Here's a pretty kettle of fish. He muttered as we raced out of the bay at a good twenty-five knots. I did think that if you hadn't disobeyed orders, we'd never have known of it at all. Well, as Tis, all our plans are as good as wrecked, unless we catch these fellows. It serves me right, too. I should have been more careful, and left nothing to chance. It was now dark, but the moon lit up a fair expanse of water, so that a boat would be visible at some distance. Lookouts crowded the ship. We had to look for hostile vessels as well as for our special quarry. Neither off Glasgow nor Ardresson could we come across anything like old Davy's boat, so we tried working more to the northward, though hope was getting faint. Small boat on the starboard bow! reported a lookout man, and we nearly shouted with joy as our eyes fell on a small sailing boat close inshore some three miles ahead. In another five minutes we were ripe upon her, so fast were we steaming. But even that five minutes made us nearly too late. While we were yet a hundred yards away, not daring to approach nearer for fear of grounding, the boat ran upon the beach, and the two stockbrokers sprang out of her. Give me a rifle! ordered Blake sharply. Smart! In an instant a loaded rifle was in his hands. Stop, you hounds! he cried to Green and Fergus. Between them and the comparative safety of a little wood there was some fifty feet of moonlit beach, a beach with rocks here and there, behind which a man might find plenty of cover. My God! cried Green, would you murder us in cold blood? If you move I shoot, Blake replied, go back to your boat at once if you wish to save your lives. This, however, they either could not or would not do. Take the gig and fetch them, Bovery. Blake called to me. I hastened to obey, and soon the boat ran upon the beach alongside the other, and followed by the men I ran towards the stockbrokers. They were quite close to me now, and I could see the perspiration streaming down their faces as they watched our approach. Then as we drew yet nearer, Fergus said to his companion, It's now or never, cut! and with the same they started to run like hairs for the wood. After them, I cried, but at the same instant I heard the report of a rifle, and Fergus, with a shriek, sprang into the air to fall back dead. Green fell, too, not hit, but groveling in terror. Heaven have mercy, he moaned. They're murdering us, murdering us, and it would have been a million pounds, a million pounds! We soon secured the frightened wretch, and with no very gentle hands dragged him back to the whaler. Toe off the other boat, hailed Blake, and sharp as you can. The two men in the boat, one of whom we presumed was Old Davy, sat there quite still emotionless, dumbfounded at the turn of events. Doubtless they expected to be shot like Fergus, but they were too terrified to make any attempt at escape. Green, lying bound in the bottom of the whaler, kept up his incessant wail, Murdered for a million pounds, a million pounds! Nor could my angry orders quiet him. What are you going to do with him now, sir? I asked Blake when we had got on board again, scuttling Old Davy's boat as soon as we were in deeper water. I don't know. Hanging's about the handiest thing, replied the skipper grimly. It's about the best thing we can do for the country, too. It seems very horrible, sir. Well, I'm not going to do it now, anyway. He shall be tried properly first. We've got to see to getting back next. As for Old Davy, that silly old fool won't trouble us again. Send him forward with the other fisherman. Old Davy went forward in a miserable time he had of it at the hands of the Blue Jackets, who related to him horrible deaths by torture which he would shortly undergo. Green, still secured, was left on deck, keeping up his incessant moaning over the lost million. But we had other things to see to, then bother about him just then. Recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane Chapter 12 More Troubles We managed to slip back into harbor without siding anything hostile, but the signal that met us as, in the growing dawn, we steamed to our billet, told us that we had returned none too soon. Large-arm steamer flying British mercantile and blue ensigns making for harbor, hornet gone to Reconoiter, came a semaphore from the speedy. Confound it all! Everything seems conspiring against us! exclaimed Blake. Ten to one some cruisers are after him. We presently made out the British steamer, a large, four-masted packet, and a stern of her were three cruisers and some torpedo boats, all in hot pursuit and firing as they came. The plan of the British captain was evident. He hoped to entice the enemy into the strange harbor, where, likely enough, they would run aground, while he could escape at the northern outlet, the one by which we had just returned. Willy-nilly, therefore, we were in for a fight, and it was of the last importance that none of the enemy should escape. How to capture or destroy the lot of them was, however, a problem beyond me. It was not likely that all would enter the harbor, and the destruction of a vessel inside would be the signal for the others to make off. I quite gave it up as hopeless, but Blake seemed confident enough, and gradually I was reassured. The merchantman was nearer now, almost over our minefield, and the enemy, seeking to wing rather than destroy her, fired continually. One of the cruisers and the two torpedo boats went round to the northern entrance, with a view of shutting her in. So we assumed, as they disappeared behind Holy Island, all this time we had lain with steam up, but making no move. The hornet, which had been recalled, lying quietly inshore by the island, the rest of us and our usual billets. After a while Blake made a signal. Whereupon the ferret and dasher, with the torpedo boats, moved gently away toward the northern entrance, and disappeared round the corner to fall on the enemy in that direction. Suddenly the oncoming merchantman stopped. A chalet hit her square in the engines, and she lay helpless, directly over our minefield. Like a flash one of the cruisers was alongside her, and a rattle of musketry told us that they were going to carry her by boarding. This was an unexpected event, as the mine could not now be exploded without destroying the English ship, so we were rather in a whole what to do. But Blake was not the man to overlook possibilities, and he allowed for this one. The speedy and hornet opened fire on the French, who were evidently considerably startled. They had hitherto taken us for trading-craft, apparently. And at the same moment there came the sound of rapid firing, where our torpedo boats were engaged to the northward. One good broadside from either of the French cruisers would have sunk any of our vessels, but we did not stay to receive it. We made rapidly for the northern outlet, and so drew one of them boldly after us. This vessel, the one that had gone alongside the prize, had sent most of her boats to tow that craft out to sea, a proceeding for which we were exceedingly thankful, since it left our mine field free and open. Cruiser Number Two, however, seemed to dart off towards her other consort, with a view, as we then supposed, of falling upon us as we emerged from the shelter of Holy Island. As we came round the island, once the sound of firing still proceeded, we found a battle-royal in progress. The third cruiser was firing broadside after broadside at our flotilla of torpedo boats, which were coming on her from all sides, while some distance away the dasher was chasing one of the French torpedo boats. Neither the ferret nor the other torpedo boat were to be seen. As we learnt later, our destroyer had been literally blown out of the water, while sinking the other boat under the lee of the hostile cruiser. Our six torpedo boats made short work of their quarry, though two of them were sunk in the struggle. We did not stay to watch this, however. A matter of far greater moment attracted our attention, for already getting small on their horizon was the cruiser that had remained outside. It was imperative to capture her at all hazards, and we and the Hornet cracked on every ounce of steam we could manage. A stern chase, however, is ever a long one, and though her timidity at venturing down the Irish Channel led her to seek the sea-room of the Atlantic, we still feared that the French vessel might find friends before we could overhaul her. And overhauled in all, it struck me that we'd have a pretty hard job to tackle her. We estimated the speed of the runaway at something like 19 knots. Our own maximum, regulated by that of the Hornet, was 25. We were, therefore, theoretically at any rate, in a position to catch her up in well under two hours, allowing for the start she had obtained. Actually, however, our speed was soon much reduced by the ocean rollers, and at the end of three hours we had just got level with her. As near as I can guess, we were then some five miles away on her port quarter, the Hornet being in the same position to starboard. It took us a good while to forge much ahead of her, but this, however, was not particularly necessary. It's no good attacking till night, said Blake. We should only be blown out of the water for our pains. The day wore on. By the cherub we were now 210 miles from Limelash, when the Hornet signaled a strange sail on the starboard bow. Blake ordered us to man an armship, and signaled the same to the Hornet. If the newcomer were a hostile warship, as indeed seemed only too probable, we would have to risk it and do our best to sink the Frenchman before he could join his friend. Carefully we examined the strange vessel whose course lay across our own, and at the speed we were going, she was soon pretty visible through our binoculars. By all that's wonderful, sir, I cried to Blake. She's one of our first-class cruisers, flying the white ensign all right too. Well, he returned. We must get in first shot, so as to have chief claim to the prize. If this cruiser gets hold of her, she'll find out everything, and so far as we are concerned, the Frenchman might then just as well have escaped, for the cat will be out of the bag. He edged the rattle in nearer, and we began to blaze away with our twelve-pounder, doing no particular damage, I expect, for the range was a very long one, though it is doubtful whether we should have done much more harm at close quarters. The twelve-pounder is not designed to attack armored cruisers with. The enemy, she was the Chasse-Loup-La-Bah, fired back at us, but fortunately we escaped with little injury, our small size being a great protection to us. Still, their aim was very good for all that, and they would have soon have settled our hash, could they have got us within range of their Hotchkiss guns. We had a pretty uncomfortable time of it, as it was, and I, for one, was heartily thankful when we steamed back again to our former position. It was rather a puzzle to us why the Chasse-Loup-La-Bah did not turn as soon as she knew that the coming vessel was English. But we fancied her skipper was sick of running away, and hoped that by trying conclusions with our cruiser he would manage to sink his pertinacious followers, by enticing them within range during the heat of the action. Otherwise, as he must have well known, it was merely a matter of waiting for night, so soon as the night should come he would be torpedoed by one of us to a certainty. The British warship was now steaming as hard as she knew how, and in a very short time the cruisers were exchanging shots. We had made our numbers to our friend as soon as she was well in view, but she did not reply for some little while, and when she did, we were not very easily able to distinguish the signal. UNION AM SOMETHING, SIR, reported the signalman. I can't make out the last flag. Must be the Crescent, sir. He continued after a pause, during which he had consoled the signal-book. The Crescent was, at that time, flagship on the North American station, so what she was doing off the coast of Ireland was beyond us. Still, there she was, and fighting in fine style, too. She had signaled to us to keep out of the way, and Blake obeyed readily enough. It's a rum-hole we're in altogether, Bovary. He remarked to me as we stood on the turtle-back, watching the fight. If we'd been left to manage the Frenchman as best we could, well, there we'd have been, and if I lost the number of my mess in sinking her, our chums at Lamblash would still carry on. Now we are in a fix all the way round. If the Crescent wins, there'll be some pretty stiff diplomacy required to get hold of the prisoners, and keep the victors from finding out about the Lamblash flotilla, both from the French and from us. And if the crappogue comes off victorious, there'll be some extra trouble that way. Really, it looks as though the only solution of the problem would be for these two ships to blow each other to pieces. So our predicament isn't a pleasant one at all. The two warships seem to be well on their way to the mutual destruction spoken of by Blake, but the vastly superior armament of the Crescent told more and more against our chase. The Frenchman maneuvered beautifully, seeking, and indeed obtaining, all the advantages of his superior end on fire. But though every now and again he could bring five guns to bear against the Crescent's four, these moments of superiority rapidly passed, and a broad side of seven QF guns poured shells into him at the rate of forty a minute. In twenty minutes, all was over, and the battered wreck of the Chasse-Loup-Lobas became an English prize. There goes a plucky Frenchman if ever there was one, said Blake as we watched the tricolor haul down. A plucky fellow for all his mysterious running away at Lamblash. And now our troubles begin. Well, we must take the bull by the horns and try what bounce will do. He semaphored to the Crescent a message of thanks for having rendered assistance to him in the matter of capturing the Frenchman, and wound up by saying that another Frenchman, a first-class cruiser, had slipped on ahead and escaped him. I should like to see the admiral's face when he gets the message, laughed Blake. However, it's our only chance. The arms of our semaphore had scarcely come to rest when the skipper started another to the effect that he would send a prize crew on board the Frenchman, and that he couldn't think of occupying the admiral's time or troubling him any more in the matter. For answer came a request for Blake to come on board the admiral. The Hornet, I should have mentioned, had got alongside the Chasse-Loup-Le-Bas almost immediately after she struck, long before the only boat that the Crescent seemed able to send could reach her. And as afterwards transpired, Garen, the Hornet's skipper, had hastily divided her crew into two portions, those who knew whereabouts they had found us, and those who did not, with the view of sending the ignorant ones on board the Crescent first. The Crescent's boat was, however, recalled ere she reached the prize, so the precaution turned out to be unnecessary. Blake was back again in ten minutes with a radiant face. It's all right, he cried as he climbed on deck. I've fixed it up, so let's hurry to work before he changes his mind. Take the gig, Bowery, and hang on to the cruiser till I send you other orders. You can get on board, of course, and tow the boat a stern. The Hornet is to take the Frenchman into London Derry with what's left of her crew, and then join the flag at a rendezvous. The Rato has to cruise with the flag for a day or two, or till the war ends. I forget which, but no matter. Then seeing how aghast I looked, he added, laughing, Well, never mind now. I'll tell you all about it in Lamblash Harbor tomorrow. Hurry up at present, and be sure and keep a sharp eye on the prisoners. A few minutes later saw me boarding the prize, and at terrible sight it was that met my curious gaze. I had seen a fair share of service during the war. I had taken part in more than one fight, but all my battles had to do with torpedoes, or at the most small shell. Here I saw before me the awful and devastating effect of nine-inch projectiles. And a sickening sight it was. Decks were torn and riven asunder. Guns hurled from their mountings, had sunk through the deck, breaking all before them. Dead and wounded men were here, there, and everywhere. Blood and brains of men were splashed all over. The whole ship was but one vast charnel house, and the marvel to me was—not that she had held out for twenty minutes, but that any one had survived twenty seconds, for she was riddled like a sieve where the quick-firing guns had hit her. Only one executive, a sub of about my own age, was left standing, and very, very few of the crew were still alive. What damage the Chasse-Loup-Le-Bas had inflicted on the Crescent I did not see. I understood later, however, from Blake, that things were pretty bad there. Curiously enough, little damage was done to the engines of either of the combatants, and soon we and the prize steamed away eastward again, though at about half the speed the ship had made when steering to the west. Smaller and smaller grew the great hall of the Crescent, as, with the little rattle following in her wake, she continued her cruise towards the setting sun, and for the first time during the war I was embarked on a duty in which Blake had no part. But if Blake himself was not there in person, he was at least watching over us in spirit, for Garen of the Hornet was his most able lieutenant. Looking back at it all now, I realize, in a way that did not strike me then, the tremendous genius of Blake, and the skill with which he invariably thought out every possible emergency. I am perfectly certain in my own mind that he had at Lamlash arranged every detail of what was to be done in the case of an event like that in which we had just taken part. It was not so obvious to me then, however, and I spent some anxious hours in the darkness, as I paced the bridge of the Chassaloupe Lobas, now dreading that the prisoners would attempt to mutiny, now with a sickening fear that I should never see Blake again. I was aroused from my half-dreams by a signal from the Hornet, lie by and send a boatload of prisoners on board me. I did, as was ordered, sending some seven wounded men who had been attended to by this time by the French doctors. A second boat full of prisoners was now set, unwounded men this time. The boat was just returning when I heard a look out in the Hornet's sing out, destroyer coming up a stern full speed, signalling green over red. I looked aft, saw in the darkness a dim white wave advancing, heard the throb of engines going at full power. Then, like a flash, a well-known hull shot past me. It was the rattlesnake come back. End of chapter. Chapter 13 of Blake of the Rattlesnake This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane Chapter 13 Blake's Revolt In a few minutes Blake had come aboard the prize, and I welcomed him like one risen from the dead. There was no time then to hear how he had rejoined us so quickly. The transfer of prisoners to the Rattlesnake and Hornet occupied our undivided attention. In a short while we had removed the Crescent's boat's crew and the fifty men who alone remained alive of the brave French ship's company. Then, taking out her torpedoes for our own future use, we abandoned the vessel. The Hornet fired a torpedo at her, she began to settle down, and thus ended the career of the Chasse-Loup-Le-Bas. We were again out of the wood, steaming back to Lamblash with light-hearts, and so soon as we were well on our way, I asked Blake what had happened since our meeting with the Crescent, and how we had got rid of her. Oh! he said, laughing. I've been taking a leaf out of the Book of the Diplomatic Service. You see, old stick in the mud, bless him, took our claim to the Frenchman as genuinely meant on our part, and whatever he may have thought, congratulated me on our enterprise. When we met him, the old boy had just captured a privateer of sorts, and sent her off again with a prize-crew. So he was choked full of prisoners as twas without the Chasse-Loup-Le-Bas people. I told him we could manage all right, and would take her into Londonderry without troubling him, so he might as well recall the boat's crew he'd sent on board. All of this he fell in with, and then began asking about the war, and so on. I told him the latest, which to my astonishment, I found he was an entire ignorance of, though I should have known that, the cables being cut, he had no means of hearing so soon. When he got over his first surprise, he asked where we came from, and what we were doing. So I had to pitch it a bit. I told him, in fact, that we were lying at Bantry with the Hornet, making little excursions from thence every now and again. He, on his part, told me that, having dished up all the French in his part of the world, he had to hunt farther afield. Now he would steam back to Halifax as hard as possible, collect his ships, and return to the Channel, and we, too, destroyers would be a handy addition. So it was all fixed up, that he and I were to cruise around while the Hornet took the prize into harbor, and, Garen rejoining us at an appointed rendezvous, we were all to make for North America. Very good, sir, said I, and as soon as it got dark, I dropped a bit of stern of station, turned round sharp, and came along to here, as I'd arranged with Garen, at thirty knots. I don't know whether the old boy is looking for the rattle or no, but we can't bring him to Lamlash to court-martial us all. We've sinned too deeply to draw back now, if we wish to, even. Our special job will be over ere he gets across again, and we will join him then with pleasure. Well, sir, there's one consolation anyhow, I rejoined. The Admiralty having been superseded by a parliamentary, self-elected board, this precious concern has no more right to control us than our friend Green. And talking of Green, what's become of him, sir? I believe I was supposed to keep an eye on him, but I can't remember seeing him since we left Lamlash. Oh, Green's all right. I came across him on deck after the Frenchman struck, about his own color from fright and seasickness, poor devil. I stowed him down below, lest some of the Crescents should see him, and wonder what the Dickens we were at with a triced up civilian on deck. I had him shoveled into the wardroom. Now he's gone forward as I don't fancy our plucky French prisoner seeing this sample of an Englishman. Elsa Craig at length loomed up in the morning sunlight, and soon we were lying beside our chums in the old harbor at Lamlash. We learned that the Frenchman, who penetrated the harbor, had been sunk by our minds while trying to come out to the rescue of the others, so all danger in this direction was passed. As for the merchantman, she had been towed well into harbor during our absence, and her engines were now being repaired by her own people, who had made no demure at having to cast in their lot with the Aronites, as we called ourselves. Our new companion turned out to be the Aelta, a merchantman armed in men by naval reserve fellows, and at the time of her adventure she was running the blockade that the enemy had already partially established round the greater part of the coast. The cruiser we destroyed shortly after our arrival, and our late visitors, belonged, I believe, to the blockading fleet, which must have become rather thin in our direction. Blake rather feared more coming to look for these missing ones, but the losses were put down to the Crescent, which thus did us a good turn unconsciously, and they were all busy looking for her. The French sub remained with us on parole for some days after his men and green had been transferred to the Elizabeth E. Greenwood and the Aelta. He was a decent sort, and as he could speak English fairly well, I got quite chummy with him. My French wouldn't go much beyond remarks on the weather. From him I learned that the skipper of the Chasse-Loup-Lobas had guessed what our presence at Lamlash meant, and so started to warn his friends at all hazards. Why did you attack the Crescent, then? I asked. Voila! he replied. What would you? When we found that two English dragonflies would not let us be, we knew that all was up, said our captain. It shall be the bigger ship that shall destroy us, and so it was. We had no hope, only to fight and die as brave men. His eyes filled with tears, as he said this, and not quite knowing what to do, I shook hands with him several times as a mark of sympathy and esteem. And now, he went on, I wish it had been your captain to whom we had struck, for he is a great man, a modern Nelson, and he will destroy all my poor compatriots yet. I felt that he spoke the truth, and that if man could accomplish it, Blake of all men was the most feted for the task. But this being an awkward sort of thing to tell him, I held my peace and changed the subject. Our preparations were now going steadily onwards. The damages sustained in the late action were being rapidly repaired, and in a few days more we should be ready to start. I say, Bovery. Blake said one night, a week or so later, You like adventures, so you can come on a spying-out-the-land trip with me, if you like. I'm often the groggy lizard, tomorrow as a Yankee skipper, and you can come too, if you care to. I readily assented. I was already sick to death of lamb-lash, its forced inactivity, and the uttered dearth of news. Are you going to take green, sir? asked Thorn with a smile. Good Lord! I quite forgotten that fellow's trial! exclaimed Blake. I fixed it to come off this afternoon, too, though, upon my word, I don't know what we can do with him. And he started off for the Yankee collier. Having nothing better to do, I asked leave to accompany him, so as to get my bearings before starting on the morrow's cruise. Green, somewhat violent, was being brought up from below as we boarded the Yankee. The terrors of the night when he attempted to escape, and his subsequent adventures, had half turned the man's brain, and he was still keeping up his wail about the million pounds. I guess, if I were the Britishers, I'd drop him overboard with a stone round his neck and no mistake. I heard Sim band Ed and Rock, the Yankee skipper, observe to his first mate. But fortunately for Green, Blake and his fellow skippers were less austere. Two hundred thousand pounds if you'll only lamb me in Glasgow to-day! Wine the wretched prisoner to his judges. I'll make all your fortunes for you. I will indeed. It's a dead sure thing. Just buy the shares. They'll give them away. Then set afloat the news of this fleet being here and sell out. Oh, there's millions in it. Millions! Yes, he went on addressing Blake. Just you think of it, my friend. You needn't go and fight and get killed for nothing. But just stay in here and make a million pounds. A million pounds! That's enough, said Blake shortly. We've just met to settle whether it will be necessary to shoot you, or whether we can stow you away out of harm without killing you as you deserve. What! he shrieked, still wanting to murder me! How true it is that the love of money is the root of all evil! Oh, God save me! Spare me! Spare me! And sinking to the floor, he lay there moaning and praying after a fashion, while the discussion as to his fate continued. Suddenly he sprang to his feet again, making a desperate effort to reach an open port with what mad idea of escape I know not. Be still, you miserable hound! Blake shouted. You don't think we're really going to waste powder and shot, or good rope, either, over your wretched carcass. You'll do anything to make sure of being able to buy up all the shares yourself, groaned green as soon as he had been brought to a standstill. He was utterly unable to conceive that we could aim at anything higher than the making of money. Money and the juggling with it were the gods he worshipped. He and thousands of others, who, like him, disgraced the name of Englishman. But for him the days of money juggling were over, for he again fell to the ground, blood rushing from his mouth. A fit brought on by terror and anger had killed him. We sent his body ashore for burial, without sorrow and without regret. England, in her hour of woe, was better freed from such as he. It was yet early when the Elizabeth E. Greenwood, with Blake as captain and me as supercargo, steamed out of the harbor on our scouting expedition, an expedition to find out and settle the day of our bursting forth as the Avengers of Fallen Britain. It was a risky move enough, but we were too used to risks by now to trouble or think much about that. For myself, I was quite sure that Blake was fully capable of getting us out of any hole he might run into. Let's see, said Blake as he paced the Collier's Bridge. We want dynamite. Torpedoes, if possible. Reliable news at all hazards. Well, here goes for it. Birkenhead is a likely place for that, but we'll have a look in at Holyhead, first of all. At Holyhead, which we reached without meeting any blockaders, we put in as a Yankee runner, and finding there a torpedo boat, number 54, Blake sent me on board of her. The sub in command, Borset by name, was an old ship of mine and startle he was to recognize me in the supposed Yankee apprentice. He told me that he had been lying idle at Holyhead, save for an occasional fruitless cruise on his own responsibility, during the whole of the war, an opine that both he and his boat had been completely forgotten at headquarters. He had, therefore, had very easy times of it, and even had his father on board as a guest. The old gentleman was a regular fire-eater, and judging that by this time he must have picked up a deal of knowledge about torpedo boats, Blake, at his earnest request, let him stay on board as a sort of acting sub to his own son. From Holyhead, where, thanks to Borset's telling us of them, we managed to collar a dozen spare torpedoes, we went back to Birkenhead. I could fill pages with this strange voyage, but my space runs short, and I must content myself with a mere relation of two of its leading incidents. Arrived off the mercy port, Blake flew the Russian ensign and a flag of truce. Getting into the torpedo boat, he steamed swiftly towards the harbor and alongside a landing stage where the mayor and corporation had come in great haste, but Blake did not stay to parlay with them. Hastily handing in a letter addressed to the authorities, he was off again at full speed, nor was he much too soon, for three second-class torpedo boats manned by local crews were making for the supposed hostile warship. Number fifty-four steamed up to these with a view of giving them some explanation, but they did not wait to receive it as they turned tail and ran back the moment they saw Blake coming. This was my first and last experience of local crews, who, though plucky enough doubtless, were much too undisciplined to be of any practical value for war service. An hour or so later, a tug flying a flag of truce came out to us, bearing a local bigwig in person, a large quantity of dynamite, and quite an army of newspaper reporters. Blake and I hastily bordered her as we did not want them in the Yankee Collier where they might have heard too much. Sir, said the bigwig to Blake, do me the honor to allow me to shake hands with you. We trust that you will be able to remain in the mercy, which, as you must note, is far from adequately protected. Indeed, I assure you, Captain, I'm afraid you omitted your name in your letter. Whitehead is my name at your service, sir, said Blake, giving me the slightest perceptible wink. Most appropriate name for a torpedo officer, I'm sure, replied the bigwig, and the scribblers behind him all made a note of it. Hem! he continued. The price of the dynamite is five hundred pounds. I suppose it would be all right with the admiralty? I'll send on board for the money and hard cash if you'd prefer it, answered Blake. Well, no matter. Still, if it isn't any inconvenience, it would relieve me of a certain honorous responsibility. Had a word from Blake, I skipped on board the groggy lizard and got the coin from her Captain, who, deeply interested in our enterprise, had taken the precaution of putting all his men in the forecastle out of sight and hearing of the reporters. When I returned, the bigwig was questioning Blake, and the pressmen jotting down his replies. It's a close secret, of course, Blake was saying, but I am hiding away not far from the mouth of the Shannon. I hope to torpedo some of the enemy who cruise round there, and I hope most out of this dynamite. I'm going to mine Bantry Bay with it, and blow up all the French who use that place. A dozen pencils were scribbling down the words as Blake uttered them, and the local dignitary ejaculated, Splendid! I suppose our torpedo boats would be of no use to you. We might be prepared to lend them for a consideration. Blake declined hastily, then, saying it was time for him to be off. We returned to the Collier. It's good to be patriotic at times. I heard the local bigwig chuckle to himself as we made off, and in view of what he had charged Blake for his dynamite, I fancied he spoke the truth about himself. The tug cast off, and we steamed away with a torpedo boat following a stern, and the stars and stripes gaily fluttering from our peak. As soon as we were hauled down from Liverpool, Borset made off for Loose Bay as hard as he could pelt, we following in more leisurely fashion. This precaution was in case we should meet an enemy's cruiser, which, seeing a torpedo boat in our company, might become unduly inquisitive. And it was a good thing that Blake was so cautious, for off the calf of man, we sighted a French cruiser standing towards us. She proved to be the Duquesne, a rather ancient old tub, to whom we could have shown our heels in a stern chase, had we so minded. She signaled to the Elizabeth E. Greenwood to lie by, and sent a boat to inspect us when we obeyed. Sinbad N. Rock, as a seller of notions to Brockgaters, was ready to welcome the French officer, who might have refused to believe in the genuineness of the Yankee flag, had Sinbad been less American. The papers were overhauled and found satisfactory. The Frenchman was preparing to go, when his eye caught one of our dummy torpedo boats that lay upon the Collier's Deck, from which the turpaulin cover had partially slipped. He looked at it curiously, but before he could remark about it, the hand of Sinbad N. Rock crashed upon his back as he asked, Say, stranger, will you deal? A genuine torpedo boat for one thousand dollars. Dirt cheap and a bargain. You can frighten the Britishers with it at no mistake, and no loss to you if they sink it. Real brumagen. Well, I suppose I'll take eight hundred to clear. The officer, but half understanding, yet with suspicions fully roused, strode to the side and called to his boat's crew that he wished his captain to come on board, and they started back to the Duquesne to fetch him. I guess it's cut and run now, Captain, said Sinbad to Blake. Blake nodded, and full speed ahead was hastily ordered. The distance between the ships was about three cables, and until their boat reached them and they missed their officer, it was possible the cruiser's suspicions would not be aroused by our moving on. Going at fifteen knots, we should by that time be out of range of her guns, so off we went without delay. Collar the French, ye sharp! cried Blake to me, and I succeeded in seizing him just as he drew his revolver to fire and give the alarm to his ship. He fought like a wildcat before we had him down, however, still he was triced up at last. At length it occurred to the Duquesne that our moving on might not be in order, and she fired a blank charge at us. Then, as we took no manner of heed, she sent a shot ricocheting across our boughs, and a minute or two later one went singing over us. A broadside followed, but the range was too far for them, the shot fell short. Her ten knots were no good against our fifteen, and gradually we drew away until we had left her far behind in the glow of the sunset. After that, calling in at loose bay for young Borset, we got back to Lamblash without further adventure. Indeed, we had had our full meat of it already. Still, what with the dynamite and the necessary newspapers, we had profited well. The newspapers were essential requirements, as from them we could learn whether the time had arrived for us to start. Blake and I scanned them eagerly, reading the war news, which included telegraphic reports of the bombardment of sheerness by the Russians, and the complete failure of the Brennan torpedo, on which the Medway had counted so much. We were by now too used to tales of disaster to be very much affected by this last one, and I think I may say that we felt keener interest in the fate of Admiral Sir P. Gangreen, Commander-in-Chief at the Nohr, than in the destruction of a few more forts that were built with money that should have been spent on ships. Admiral Gangreen, you may remember, after vainly telegraphing for assistance, had put to sea an esteem yacht, the Wildfire, accompanied by flag-captain counter-boys, with a view to observing the movements of the retreating Russians, and his return was no longer hoped for. It was not too long after the war was over that I learned how the gallant Admiral was captured, only to be set ashore again on the first opportunity, his criticisms on their details of uniform and style of hair-dressing, being more than his captors could endure. These episodes, the Indian Mutiny, the investment of London, and the running away of our Volunteer Army Corps, gave us plenty to talk about, but in the midst of it all we had one thing for self-congratulation. Though they had been unable to stamp out our cruisers on the high seas, the enemy believed that all that remained of the British navy in home waters was securely shut up in Plymouth Sound, or at Chatham. Of the existence of Blake's flotilla, no one seemed to have the least idea. End of Chapter. The Day Before On 29 October, the time being ripe, and our preparations complete, we put to sea with a fleet consisting of HMSS Rattlesnake, Niger, Hornet, Dasher, Speedy, five torpedo boats, and the colliers Elizabethy Greenwood, Lily, Blanche, and Emerald Lass, which last two we had managed to pick up during our stay at Lamblash. There should have been many more vessels, but alas, they had gone to join the great majority since that meeting in the Vernon. The Ailta we left behind, she was too cumbersome to be of use with us. Blake sent the lily over to Glasgow as we left, with instructions to let it be discovered that a British cruiser was or had been hiding at Lamblash. The report soon found its way to the enemy, and later Lieutenant Orchardston, who was left behind with a torpedo boat to defend our base, managed to blow up a hostile vessel that crossed our minefield with a view to reconnoitering the harbour. The lily having rejoined, our flotilla made for loose bay, which was reached in the early morning without anything hostile being sighted. Spending the day here, as soon as it was dusk, we set off again over a practically deserted sea. Once we met a fishing-smack, who, taking us to be an enemy, crowded on all sail and tried to escape. A torpedo boat overhauling him, learned from a terrified fisherman that an immense Russian ship was lying somewhere in Milford Haven. This was, though we did not know it then, none other than the celebrated Rurik. Anxious as he was not to knowingly leave an enemy in our wake, our Commodore hesitated to risk his torpedo boats in an attempt to destroy the warship, and he would probably have led her alone but for the project unfolded by Borset Sr. This was nothing less than to get into the water with a torpedo, swim to near the Russian, and then let the weapon go on its errand of destruction. Since leaving this vessel behind might involve us in unforeseen difficulties, Blake at last consented to the arrangement, and Number 54 went off towards Dale Road, getting into Jack's Sound without betraying her presence to anyone. When night fell, Borset's boat steamed cautiously to the mouth of the Haven, and there lowered her dinghy. Fortunately the water was smooth and the night dark and foggy, while the British fleet being presumably non-existent, the Russians were not likely to be expecting any attack. Nevertheless they had boats out patrolling round the ship, which made it impossible for the dinghy to get anywhere near her. However, as but for these boats the Borsets might have hunted in vain for their quarry in the darkness, the circumstance was on the whole a favourable one. The cruiser was lying close inshore by St. Anne's head, and the boats covered a semi-circle, some two thousand yards to seaward of her, the landside being left quite unguarded. The dinghy, which contained the two Borsets and a blue jacket, rode back to Number 54 and, after a consultation there, in towards the seashore, where after a while they found a landing-place. And here, by superhuman efforts, the three of them got the torpedo up over the cliffs and down again into Dale Flats. The first streak of dawn was already in the sky, when Mr. Borset, with a life buoy around him, entered the water with the torpedo. The tide carried him out to where the rurik was lying, some half-mile from his starting point, and he had covered more than half the distance when a Russian with sharper eyes than his fellows noticed him and fired a rifle. The shot was followed by a volley, but a man in the water is a poor target at the best of times, and Mr. Borset was able to push the torpedo ahead of him, set the motive power to work, and let her go. And a minute later the career of the rurik was ended for many weeks to come. The gallant civilian was nearly dead from cold and exposure and would have been drowned if his son and the blue jacket had not swum out to him. As it was, he had to be left in a cottage ashore. Borset's boat joined us soon after sunrise with news of the successful enterprise, a long and interesting account of which appears in A Civilian's Reminiscences of the War by John Borset, wherein the author modestly states that he got the idea from a similar episode that occurred in the maneuvers several years before. Just before sunrise went off the sillies, we made out a cruiser bearing down upon us, and failures seemed to again threaten our enterprise. For though our warships could give her the heels, the colliers were only too likely to fall a prey. So there was nothing for it but to fight it out. Our torpedo boats were skulking behind the colliers, and the enemy apparently took the whole lot of us for merchant men, all of us being disguised. It was getting dark before she came within range of our aftermost collier. We had straggled out in apparent flight. The emerald last stopped directly, the cruiser fired, and the boats coming suddenly out torpedoed the vessel before she had got over her surprise, and two torpedoes striking her, she sank almost immediately. Blake steamed back to the spot and found a few French sailors in one of their boats. As these, where they picked up by their friends, would have given information about us, we tried to take them prisoners, but they made a desperate and gallant resistance before they were overcome and taken on board one of the colliers. This task accomplished, we put into pensance, and great was the terror our arrival created in the morning for we flew the Russian flag. Lying inshore all day, and getting provisions in water, which we took without asking, for the people had all fled from the town, we left as night came on, and daybreak next morning found us inside Xmouth Bar, where a couple of ancient forts had been reduced to ruins by a hostile cruiser a few days before. It was a thick, heavy night coming around, and we saw nothing of the ironclads supposed to be beleaguering Plymouth beyond a stray ship that nearly ran down Number 45 and got torpedoed in return. The Solent was our objective, and Blake did not wish to risk an alarm reaching there for the sake of destroying a few ships off Plymouth that could very well wait till we came back again. At Xmouth, where we still posed as Russians, Blake and many others of us went ashore to get such newspapers as were obtainable. As an English-speaking Russian, our Commodore interviewed some of the principal residents under a flag of truce, and getting hold of one who appeared to be trustworthy, revealed his true identity to him. The latter, who was taken completely by surprise, on his part told Blake that he had sent a messenger to Limpstone, the nearest telegraph office, with instructions to wire to Exeter for troops that must already be on their way. This was an awkward contra-tomp. We did not wish to shoot down our own countrymen, but, on the other hand, if they once got to hear that we were an English force, the news might reach the enemy, and our great attack prove a failure. Finally, Blake decided to stay where we were under the flag of truce, and when the military arrived, a company of the Devonshire Regiment Militia and a half battalion of volunteers, they seemed disposed to go for our small force right away, and were with difficulty restrained. Of course, when Blake explained matters in confidence to Colonel Top Higgins, the officer in command, the latter withdrew his troops, who were given to understand that an armistice was arranged till the evening, and they spent the rest of the day in putting up entrenchments on the hill around the church. I do not know how it was that none of them recognized our uniforms, unless it was that all naval uniforms are very similar to each other, and they could hardly be expected to be familiar with the details of the Russian one. Anyway, everybody seemed satisfied as to our foreign origin, and we were congratulating ourselves on a day in harbor without further trouble when an incident occurred that nearly wrecked all our plans. The residents, on learning that no fighting was likely to take place for several hours, got over their first terror, and soon we were surrounded by quite a crowd of people curious to behold the dreaded foe. We, I should explain, were on the beach. The townsfolk promenaded on the seawall to gaze at us, and it was while idly watching the procession that my eye lighted on a figure that seemed familiar to me, a lady dressed in deep mourning. She or the people she was with had just stopped to look at the supposed Russians when she came almost face to face with Blake. For a moment they faced each other in silent astonishment, then with a cry, Edward, my darling, my love! You are not dead after all! She rushed down the steps and Blake held her in his arms. He would have been more than human to have been able to keep up the Russian disguise, and a moment later we were known to be English. Cheers rent the air, and enthusiastic crowd fell about us. We were welcomed as the saviors of a nation. The news spread like wildfire. Our carefully kept secret was ours no longer. It was the property of a thousand tongues. Then it was that Garen of the Hornet saved us. Realizing that, unless immediate measures were taken, the news would soon spread beyond the limits of Xmouth, he hastened to the soldiers and persuaded the Colonel to form a cordon round the town. Recognize the importance of this precaution, that officer at once posted his men, with instructions to shoot anyone attempting to force a passage through. Nor was he a moment too soon, for several people were captured, some of them after a lengthy chase, who had started for the nearest telegraph office to flash the good news about the country. Blake and Miss Moncton had disappeared, nor did he rejoin us until it was time to be getting back to the ships. She and her father came down to the boat to see Blake off, and I could not help overhearing their farewell words. Miss Moncton, I noticed, had already discarded her mourning, and was now dressed in something light. You are quite sure you forgive me, dear? I heard her saying, for all I have made you suffer. And now, no longer do we meet then we must part again, and God only knows if I shall ever see you more. I hear this awful war is nearly over. Oh, why need you go? Why cannot you stay here? My darling, he made answer, it is because peace is so near that I must go. My duty to my country calls me, and you would not have me go against that. What we shall do to-night, will, please God, alter the whole course of the campaign, and if it be fated that I see you no more, yet will you be happier for this meeting than had it not come about. And giving her one long farewell kiss, he leaped into the boat, and we rode back to the rattlesnake. Come back, come back! she cried to him in anguish, but fate was inexorable, and no return was possible. Veinly she stood in the crimson glow, land and sea around her died to colors of fire and blood as she stretched out white arms towards her lover till the red haze hid him from her eyes. It was a while in stormy sunset, such as one his turner used to paint at this very place, a fitting accompaniment to the scene, and a fitting portent to the bloody sequel now so close at hand. None of us, as we saw the sun sink behind the hills, could expect, or even hope, to see him rise again. Woman's Love and Man's Duty Blake hurried below as soon as we got on board, busying himself with the charts, setting our course with scrupulous care. Only too glad to be able to leave him to himself, I found work on deck, and was thus occupied when I heard the dip of oars and a cry of, BOTAHOY! from aft. I hastened towards the stern to see Miss Moncton and her father coming to us in a shoreboat. They came rapidly alongside, and the general was on board almost before the boat had lost the way on her. A minute later, and before I could think or say anything, he had helped his daughter on board. Then, at a sign from him, the boat quickly made off into the gloom. Mr. Bovary? It was Miss Moncton who spoke. Would you be kind enough to tell Captain Blake that he is wanted on deck? You need not say by whom. Her voice, always a low and sweet one, had now in it a ring of sad determination that told me for certain what I had already guessed, that regardless of consequences she had decided to be with Blake at the last, whether he would or no. I went below as desired, telling the skipper that he was wanted on deck, and moodily and listlessly he followed me there. I hurried forward so as not to overhear the meeting, and hung about in the conning-tower till it was more than time to start on our errand. I was roused from the reverie into which I had fallen by seeing General Moncton making his way towards me. Look here, Mr. Bovary! said he, bluffly enough, as became an old soldier. I want a few words with you. Honestly, what are your chances tonight? I replied that we should probably succeed in sinking a large number of French and Russian ironclads, but that we ran grave risk of destruction both in entering the Solent and in getting away. Meaning that you will in all human probability be sunk or captured? Sunk, possibly, I answered, but Blake will never strike. No, from what I know of him, I should say that it would be the last thing he would do. However, that is not the chief thing I wish to say. At present Blake is doing all he can to persuade my daughter to return on shore. I did all I could to prevent her coming on board, but here we both are. Now I know my daughter well, and you, from even the little you are seen of her, can perceive well enough that she is not one easily set aside from her purpose. She is a woman, and to a woman the fate of an empire is as nothing to the safety of the man she loves. I wish to warn you accordingly. If my daughter can disable your engines or bring about your capture in any way, she will do so without the slightest hesitation. But Captain Blakewood—I began excitedly—of what he might say or do, she will wreck nothing in this matter—he interrupted. I am an old man, with but a short time to live in any case, but it is hard to have to choose between a daughter's life and an empire's existence. And what has England done to deserve to survive as a nation? he added bitterly. Blake has wonderful luck, I said, with a hopefulness I was far from feeling. He may pull us through all right, small though the chances seem. The pitcher that goes off into the well gets broken at last, retorted the general. And though as a soldier I can't presume to give an expert opinion on a naval question, yet it seems to me that your rattlesnake has little time left to float. But, in any case, duty is duty. If Lucy will choose to court death, I cannot save her at the expense of England. Watch her, lest some misfortune befall your ship. Then he went sadly away, leaving me to worry over how best to act. I knew Blake well enough to be certain that he would never let love stand before duty, but I was nonetheless anxious to save him from such a terrible dilemma as he might well find himself in, should Miss Moncton get an opportunity to put her supposed plans into execution. Yet what to do, I could not settle. Thorn was also hanging about in the Conning Tower, so we consulted together, and finally decided to take turns at watching Miss Moncton. And the lot having fallen upon me, I started upon my mission of espionage. As anticipated, Blake had been quite unable to dissuade her from accompanying us, and when I came up he seemed to have given up the attempt, as they were standing near the stern in quiet conversation. Blake had introduced me to her on shore, so I went up and uttered some common places, then after a few minutes' disultery conversation, he persuaded her to go below while we got underway. His cabin had been placed at her service. By Jove, said Blake to me quite cheerily, I'd no idea it was so late. Aren't you peckish yet? We must get dinner as we can, when we've got over the bar. Signaling to our consorts, we began to get up anchor. Before I went to my post on the foxhole, however, I exchanged a word with the General. All right, said he, I'll go on duty now, and see that nothing happens while you're getting ready to start. But I can't trust myself very long. It's a hard fight against a father's love. Poor old man, he was nearly distracted at the turn of events. Indeed, but for the fact that he had been a soldier, I should have been unable to feel any confidence in him whatever. As it was, I didn't feel over much. We crept out of Exmouth, leaving all our colliers behind, saving the Lily. Captain Higgs was so anxious to accompany us right through, and so certain that he could be useful, that Blake had agreed to allow him to come. As events turned out, it was a good thing for us that he did. Once beyond the bar, we made a straight course for Portland Bill, and thorn going on watch, Blake and I hurried below to dinner. The meal, such as it was, was quite a merry one. We all seemed to put on gaiety, which, whether assumed or not, exercised a decidedly cheering influence. Miss Moncton, who was fortunately for her a good sailor, made merry over our crockery, which wasn't a sadly battered condition, and no stranger seeing the meal would have guessed that we expected it to be our last. By and by she led the conversation round to the ship, expressing particular curiosity about the engines. And, I suppose, she said after Blake had explained them to her, I suppose a piece of bursting shell even a little bit, if it got among the wheels and things, would stop the ship. He replied that, of course it would, but the engine hatches being shut down such an event was unlikely in the extreme. Whatever suspicions I may have previously had were now strengthened, and the unsuspecting Blake had given her the knowledge she required. A few minutes later we went on deck, Blake to the conning tower forward, and I nominally to inspect the torpedo tubes, but in reality to lie and wait for our fair enemy. Nothing happened, however. Miss Moncton came on deck and joined Blake in the conning tower. We shall have such a short time together, now, that every moment is precious to me. I heard her say to our captain, and doubtless he was of the same opinion. Stealthily the rattlesnake and her consorts slipped through the water. Fortune was with us again in the matter of weather, for the night was thick and dark, with showers at intervals, while the sea was fairly smooth. In the gloom I could just see, Miss Moncton, wrapped in Blake's overcoat, standing close to him forward, her tall figures silhouetted against the dimly white foam that shot from the rattlesnake's bow. In the faint glow thrown up by the phosphorescence I could see her light brown hair blown across her face by the wind of her onward rush, and ever and anon I could hear the soft murmur of her voice. A strange picture, truly, in the tragedy of love and war. Suddenly she disappeared. While I was yet craning my neck to see whether she had merely shifted her position, I heard a sound behind me, the sound of a hatchway being forced open by unaccustomed hands. Quickest thought, I turned and made for the engine hatches. A gleam of light shot up into the sky, lighting up Miss Moncton's face. With one hand she struggled to keep the hatch open, in the other she held a short iron bar. There was no time to speak. Rushing forward I seized her hands and pulled her from the hatch, which fell down again with a loud crash. The bar was in my hands now and I threw it overboard, but not without a struggle. Twice the now desperate girl hit me in the face with her ringed fingers, cutting down the side of my face. Blake sang out angrily to know what the noise meant, and as I turned to reply, Miss Moncton wrenched herself free of me and darted behind the searchlight. Fortunately no one had witnessed the encounter, and I explained to Blake that I had fallen down, getting a good telling off for my clumsiness at a time when silence was all important. When he had gone again, I apologized as well as I could for my roughness, but she paid me little heed. The failure of her scheme seemed to have stultified Miss Moncton completely. Since I cannot save him, I will die by his side, was all she said, and then went forward again, leaving me to continue my watch in silence. CHAPTER XVI of Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. Jane CHAPTER XVI THE FINAL CHAPTER TORPIDO TRIUMPHANCE THE SAVING OF ANGELAND The French, believing the remnants of the British navy to be safely shut up at Chatham or Plymouth, and so unsuspicious of any attack, had guarded the entrances to the Solent in very negligent fashion, and for some time no lookouts were visible. In three lines we steam slowly towards our quarry, the Collier-Lilly being some three or four cables ahead of us. Our center line consisted of torpedo boat number 87, towing a stern of her six dummy torpedo boats which we had made during our stay at Lamblash. These were each cable or so apart, the intervals being somewhat irregular, and the tow line was underwater all the way, so as to lessen the weight and save it from being cut through by shot. Our port, or inshore division, consisted of the Ratto, Dasher, and Hornet. The rest formed the starboard attack. All of us, even the dummy boats, flew the Russian ensign. It was a strange feeling to enter thus, as foes, the harbor that had never before been ought but English in the memory of man. Everything having been practiced and arranged at Lamblash, we took up this formation without a hitch, and, steaming thus in cautious fashion, at length sighted a small vessel ahead, a French scout which turned her search-light on the Lilly. Captain Higgs, who had gone on with lights out so as to attract attention, had picturesquely wrecked his vessel for the occasion, with a dummy forefunnel shorn of half its length, main mass broken off short, and imitation shot holes in her side, the Lilly looked as though she had just emerged from a hard-fought fight. The Frenchman fired a gun across her bows as a signal for her to stop, which she immediately did, and, turning a search light, we had fitted her with, full on the enemy, began making at the same time a series of heterogenous signals that must have sorely puzzled those who tried to read them. Blinded by the search-light, their attention occupied by the supposed Russian, none of the enemy saw us steal past until it was too late for them to interfere with our attack. We had passed them, and ahead of us lay two long lines of battleships, some looming up black and silent in the darkness, others lit up by the flashes of the random guns they had already begun to fire. Mostly they used no search lights, fearing thereby to bewilder their gunners, nor as yet were they certain in which direction to look. Before long, however, a chance beam from the electric light fell upon our leading torpedo boat, now going for between the lines at her utmost speed, the dummies trailing well out a stern of her. I suppose the Russian flag puzzled the French, for there was a lull in the firing, some signaling, shouting, and momentary indecision. But as Number 87 reached the farther end of the lines, a vigorous cannonade began again, and at the same instant we heard the detonation of a couple of torpedoes. The psychological moment had come. Blake blew his signal whistle. We tore down the Russian flag, hoisting the white ensign in its place. And off we went between the shore and the enemy till we had passed the last of them. Then, circling round, we charged back to complete the work of destruction we had begun. Scarcely a shot came near us. As our torpedoes went home, one after the other with a series of the most awful explosions I have ever witnessed. By the time we had been up the lines and down again, a space of but a few minutes, of all that great armada, but two ships were left firing. All the rest had sunk or run aground. Our dummy boats, which had received the greater part of the enemy's attentions, held out well. Too well, in fact, since, with the exception of the leading boat, they had proved well nigh indestructible. And unless we could either destroy or take them away with us, it would be impossible to again practice this brilliant ruse de guerre. As it was, their recovery seriously delayed us, but at length one of the torpedo boats managed to pick up a buoy that drifted astern of them. And none too soon we made back at full speed. Torpedo boats were coming out of the harbor in shoals, while ahead we could discern our old acquaintance, the scout we had passed coming in. Blake, who had anticipated some trouble of this sort, at once signaled to our consorts to clear out independently and rendezvous off the needles, and all immediately scattered in accordance with the prearranged plan. The rattle got out untouched, and once past the needles slowed down to pick up such other vessels of our flotilla as might be about. The Hornet, Dasher, and two torpedo boats, which had kept in sight, soon joined us, and eventually we made out the three queer-shaped funnels of the speedy, as she labored along in our wake, the five remaining dummies towing astern of her. But of our other vessels we saw nothing, though we looked for them long and anxiously. Miss Moncton, who during the attack had been shut up in the cunning tower, now came out on deck, prematurely congratulating herself that the fighting was over. She was soon undeceived, however, by hearing our Commodore giving orders for the attack on the other hostile fleet that we expected to find at Portland. Hitherto the girl had exercised restraint, but the prospect of this fresh danger did away with her self-control, and in front of Thorn and myself, within hearing even of some of the crew, she urged Blake to abandon the Enterprise. Have I no claim upon you, too? Have not I, your affianced bride, a right to demand that you live for me?" We heard her passionately exclaim, but Blake was inexorable. A shame that through my indecision this trouble had come upon us, anxious to mend matters as much as lay in my power. I called out to man and armship on my own responsibility, and in the bustle of the moment, Blake led her to the cunning tower again. Torn by conflicting emotions, compelled to endanger the life of the woman he loved, our skipper never wavered one moment, nor did he even exhibit any signs of annoyance at this last provocation. The certainty of ultimate destruction was now so strong that all other feelings were smothered in its fatalism, the glamour of the death-watch was upon us. So much was this so, that it never occurred to any of us what a pretty scandal Miss Moncton's presence on board would cause if by any off chance we should survive. I doubt if it ever struck her either, but she, at any rate, was past caring for anything, save her wild desire to save our captain's life. At first we did not think we were being followed, but in this we were mistaken. A few miles from Portland Bill, just as we were making our final dispositions for the attack, several rockets went up a stern of us, and after a brief interval these were answered by others ahead. All these signals were similar to those made by the enemy in the Solent, white and green stars turning to red, evidently a distinguishing signal. It had been our intention to stop about here, in order to transfer some spare torpedoes to our boats which were now unarmed, but the discovery of our presence by the enemy made this a grave risk. It seemed better to attack with our larger ships only, and this we started to do. As yet the strangers could not tell our exact whereabouts, while their signals made their own positions pretty plain. Though we were not yet able to discover whether the ships ahead were merely scouts or the Russian Portland fleet, till this should be ascertained it was our policy not to attack them, lest catching the Sprat we should lose the mackerel. Blake altered course, and we stood for the shore at sixteen knots, passing quite unobserved within a mile of the advancing warships. In a few more minutes Portland would be open to us. In the excitement I had forgotten all about Miss Moncton, though I should have known that she would seize any opportunity that might present itself to wreck our plans. When the thought of her suddenly flashed across my mind, I started to look for her, but I was too late. Hard by the conning tower was a rocket ready and positioned for firing, the string hanging within easy reach of anyone. As I came inside of it, Blake was standing up by the twelve-pounder watching the enemy through his nightglasses. Miss Moncton below him was gazing at the rocket. In an instant I divined her purpose, but I was too far away to prevent it. I called out to her not to touch it, but even as I called she pulled the string. With a hiss and a roar the rocket flew blazing into the sky, lighting up the waters all around us, and betraying our exact position to the enemy. Blake dropped his glasses as though he had been shot, and immediately jumped onto the deck beside her. I expected an explosion, but his first words were to inquire whether she was hurt. He was unsuspicious even yet. You have done for us now, Lucy. He said gently, when she had assured him that the rocket had done her no harm. How on earth did you manage to get entangled in it? For a minute there was a pause. Then, I did it on purpose. She answered slowly. On purpose! he repeated, scarce seeming to understand her. On purpose! See, the enemy are coming back. We shall be captured. Only capture will save you from your suicidal self. The rattle will never be captured, Lucy. You have only helped to sink her a little sooner, was all he said. Her motive was so plain. Her loving desperation so apparent, that he had not the heart to be angry with her, but on his face came a look that made me wonder whether, holding it to be his duty, he was going to have her thrown overboard. There was no time now for any more speech. The enemy was coming up rapidly, firing randomly at us as they came. Now to port, now to starboard, we rushed, but the enemy were not to be shaken off. We and the destroyers might have bowled through them, but this would have entailed the sacrifice of the speedy, and probably of the torpedo boats as well, and for this Blake was not prepared. The strange vessels, swift as ourselves, kept pace with us. Evidently they were uncertain of our strength and power, and were waiting till daylight should enable them to destroy us at long range. At length the dreaded dawn broke, and we could make out the black forms of hostile cruisers steaming with us as we made down Channel. The sea ahead was comparatively clear, and there was just a chance that we might yet get away. Presently the enemy began to signal rapidly. Their leading vessels slowed down. From their lofty tops they had sighted something ahead, but whether it was a death trap into which we were speeding, we could not yet ascertain. Still, whatever might be ahead, we could not stop to fall into the hands of our pursuers, and so we sped along till we made out a number of battleships coming towards us in wide single column of line abreast. Tired out and exhausted as we were, we braced ourselves for another fight, but long air we had got within range of them, we made out the center vessel. She could even at that distance be none other than the old thunderer. We approached the fleet warily enough, nevertheless, lest they should prove to be in hostile hands, while they regarded us with equal suspicion. After a while they began to signal to us, and we having made our numbers, which could just be distinguished in the dawning light, they sent on a cruiser flying a white flag. Then, satisfied as to who we were, signal to us to fall in a stern. The thunderer, it may be remembered, had been badly torpedoed on the first night of the war, and had only got out of dockyard hands in time to be shut up in Plymouth. Her captain semaphoreed to us that they had broken out of Plymouth's sound the previous night, destroyed some of the blockading fleet, which had already been severely handled by the maker forts, and were now in hot pursuit of the remainder, who had fled away up channel, and these presumably were some of the ships we had met, hence so narrowly escaped from. The fleet, with the thunderer, consisted of the old ironclads Agincourt, Dreadnought, Hercules, Sultan, Rupert, Neptune, Devastation, Bellaroffin, the cruisers Taubot, Sappho, and Phoebe, and one torpedo boat, a thorny craft boat whose number I forget, and these were all that was left to the British Navy, save ships on foreign stations, and a ragtag and bobtail fleet of badly damaged ironclads, including the half-completed illustrious that had been telegraphed to, to break out from Chatham, the forts of which had so far prevented attacks from the land, on the Russians at the Nor. Blake on his part signaled back, that in the last few days we had between Lamlash and Plymouth torpedoed the Rurik and two other vessels unknown, that we had been into the Solent the previous night, and during our visit had sunk or disabled some twenty French warships. Further communication was interrupted by a movement of the enemy ahead. It was now light enough to see them, fairly well, and we could count a good twenty large ships, besides a number of small craft. A stern of the British ironclads, a dozen or more other ships were visible. A great battle was imminent, a battle against overwhelming odds. The enemy's present movements were confined to a change of formation, however. They made no attempt to attack our entrapped fleet. Either they hoped to force us to surrender by a show of superior force, or else the daily expected peace made their admirals doubtful as to the advisability of risking the loss of any more ships while destroying the British. It was now quite light, and the rising sun showed us columns of smoke on the eastern horizon, yet another fleet coming up to join in the naval Armageddon. The British Admiral, unable to steam at much above ten knots, made no attempt to escape. It would have been utterly useless to try and do so, with the enemy's swift vessels so near. He was practically surrounded. Thorne and I stormed at the dilatoriness of our Admiral. He's just letting them collect so as to have a good number to strike to. I said. No, said Blake, coming up to us. He thinks the fleet steaming down are our ships from Chatham, though the enemy fancy they are Russians. In any case, the fight will begin in a few minutes more. He paused, then went on in a strained voice, avoiding our eyes. Before it does, Miss Moncton must leave the rattlesnake, and so I want to ask a favour of you, Bovary. We've been shipmates together all through the war, and on the strength of it, I ask you to leave the ship now. To do what, sir? I inquired in wonder. Miss Moncton must leave the ship. I cannot have her go down with the rattlesnake. Take her off in the boat now. Now at once. Get her to the shore, if possible, or if you cannot do that on board one of the battleships. I can fight this fight without you, as I've settled what to do, but I cannot send her adrift at the mercy of a couple of blue jackets. But her father, sir, lies dead in the wardroom. The strain and excitement have been too much for him. It's a hard thing to do, old man, I know. It makes you seem a runaway. So I ask, instead of order you. I am ready, sir, was all I said, and he grasped my hand in a farewell shake. God bless you, Bovary! he added brokenly. Miss Moncton was half-dead from exposure and terror. The sudden death of the old general had completely upset her, and when Blake told her to get into the boat, she obeyed him mechanically. I was already in the boat with the single blue jacket that Blake could spare me, and directly she had taken her place in the stern, we shoved off, rowing our hardest. Blake, not trusting himself to speak, hurried back to his post on top of the conning-tower, but the sad drama was not ended. We had rowed but a few strokes from the doomed vessel when Miss Moncton awoke to what was going on, and sprang to her feet with a piercing scream of terror that wrung my very heart. Edward! Edward! For God's sake, don't send me away from you! Let me stay and die with you! Die with you! I don't want to live when you are gone! With a strength born of anguish and despair, she seized my oar, and despite my efforts to prevent her, backed water with it. Not daring to meet her eyes, I put my head down to hide my face and pulled my very hardest against her. Presently her strength failed, and abandoning the attempt she made as though to jump into the sea, but holding fast onto her, I prevented that also. Gradually her struggle ceased, and she sank down into the bottom of the boat in a swoon. Over the water in sad accents came the voice of Blake. Good-bye, my darling! Good-bye! And then the rattlesnake made away to her doom. Guns were firing and signals flying, and through the smoke I could see the light squadrons of the opposing fleets charging at each other. In a moment they seemed to meet, a brief cloud of smoke and flame, then out of the melee emerged the rattle, dasher, and hornet, steering straight for the hostile battleships at thirty miles an hour. The water around them was lashed into foam by the shot and shell, but they held their way unchecked. They reached the leading ironclads, the spume of torpedo explosions rose like water-spouts, then they vanished in the mist, and strain our eyes as we would, no trace of them was visible. The firing increased in intensity, the big guns taking their turn too, for by now some of the belligent ironclads were within range of each other. Suddenly, through a rift in the smoke, I saw the rattle, torn and battered, much down by the head. Before her were two huge ironclads that had collided in the confusion caused by Blake's attack. She was evidently sinking, but the British flag still flew from her ensign's staff above the shot-splashed water. Hours seemed to pass as she crawled nearer and nearer to the battleships now towering above her, two or three pregnant minutes at the most. There came a lull in the firing, a lull of foreboding, the ships touched. As they did so, a mighty column of mingled flame in water leaped into the air and falling hit everything from my sight. Then came the roar of a terrific explosion, and I knew that Blake and the rattlesnake were no more. He had blown her up in the midst of the foe. So enwrapped was I in watching this terrible episode that I had left the boat to drift by herself. Shot was now falling around us, and, pull as we would against the tide, we could not gain the shore. In the course of our struggles we were hailed from the thunderer, and soon we were alongside her. The great ironclad slowed down, a rope was thrown to us, and Miss Moncton, still in her swoon, taken on board and sent below. The fight was growing in intensity, and now was not the moment for explanations. I was hastily told off to take the post of a sub who, poor fellow, was already down, but of what I did or how we fared in that battle of giants, I have but little, if any, coherent recollection. It suffices to say, that some hours later, when the firing ceased, a large portion of the Plymouth and Chatham squadrons still floated, bruised and battered but victorious. Guns behind armor had conquered, and seven French and Russian ironclads, now flying the White Henson, were our fruits of victory. The rest of our gallant foes had gone down with colors flying. This battle, as everybody knows, ended the war. The fleet cruised about the Channel for a few days, but there were no more fights. The enemy had had enough of it. The last week, thanks mostly to Blake, had cost them some forty warships. The rattle alone, in blowing up with all that dynamite on board, had taken two ironclads to the bottom with her, and severely damaged a third, and altogether the enemy were without any fleet suitable to continue the war. Their deadly QF guns had made little impression on the Thunderer and her completely armored consorts, which were soon fit for sea as ever. Cruisers from foreign stations were daily arriving home, having cleared distant waters of all hostile vessels, and the allies, hampered by nihilists and anarchists at home, were only too anxious to end a war that threatened to continue only to their disadvantage. And so, as everyone knows, the great peace came about. In conclusion, I must explain, what I should perhaps have made clearer before, that this little tale is in no way intended to compete with the more elaborate histories of the war that have appeared in the last few years. My claim to be read lies in my being, I fear, the only survivor of those who knew Blake, and were with him when he and his fellow torpedo men saved England and laid down their lives for her sake. Whether England was worth the sacrifice is a question that those who look around them cannot have much difficulty in answering. The self-sacrifice of her sailors has brought England a spell of peace again. It has created a large number of desirable births in the War Pension Office. It has given an open field for the exercise of parliamentary and party fudge for some years to come. But the patriotic outburst of the closing months of 1890—something—has fizzled out long ago. The starving of the navy goes on, just as it did before the war, and though improvements have been affected in many details, yet minor considerations outweigh the more important issues as of old. Now and again I hobble to St. Paul's, where some who had been shipmates with them before the war placed a monument to the memory of Blake and the Aeronites, and as I gaze on its stony grandeur, I often wish that my name too were on that marble slab. Blake was better dead with glory, for had he lived all that he had done would scarcely have atoned for his revolt. Indeed, I was court-martialed for my small share in it, and though let off without any special punishment, my naval career ended with the war, the credit and glory of which was usurped by the military. The navy was thanked for its assistance in the closing days. The mass of the honour went to an army of volunteers that defeated the French, who, Blake's attack having lost them the command of the sea, were retreating in disorderly haste towards Portsmouth. Ms. Monkton never recovered from the double shock of that memorable and fateful night. For a while she haunted Blake's tomb, a tall, black-clad figure worn with grief, but she has long since gone to join him where the weary are addressed. This is the end of Blake of the Rattlesnake by Frederick T. by Frederick T. Jane. Thank you for listening.