Frank Mildmay; Or, The Naval OfficerMarryat, Frederick
History
Frank Mildmay; Or, The Naval Officer
Marryat, Frederick
Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Officers -- Fiction; Sea stories
"I understand you," said the lieutenant; "but as you have not served
your time, the vacancy would be of no use to you. I must report the
affair to the captain, though I do not think he will take any notice
of it; he is too fond of enterprise himself to check it in others.
Besides, a lady is always a justifiable object, but we hope soon to
show you some higher game."
The captain came on board shortly after, and took no notice of my
having been absent without leave; he made some remark as he glanced
his eye at me, which I afterwards learned was in my favour. In a few
days we sailed, and arrived in a few more in Basque Roads. The British
fleet was at anchor outside the French ships moored in a line off the
Isle d'Aix. The ship I belonged to had an active part in the work
going on, and most of us saw more than we chose to speak of; but
as much ill-blood was made on that occasion, and one or two very
unpleasant courts-martial took place, I shall endeavour to confine
myself to my own personal narrative, avoiding anything that may give
offence to the parties concerned. Some days were passed in preparing
the fire-ships; and on the night of the 11th April, 1809, everything
being prepared for the attempt to destroy the enemy's squadron, we
began the attack. A more daring one was never made; and if it partly
failed of success, no fault could be imputed to those who conducted
the enterprise: they did all that man could do.
The night was very dark, and it blew a strong breeze directly in upon
the Isle d'Aix, and the enemy's fleet. Two of our frigates had been
previously so placed as to serve as beacons to direct the course of
the fire-ships. They each displayed a clear and brilliant light; the
fire-ships were directed to pass between these; after which, their
course up to the boom which guarded the anchorage, was clear, and not
easily to be mistaken.
I solicited, and obtained permission to go on board one of the
explosion vessels that were to precede the fire-ships. They were
filled with layers of shells and powder, heaped one upon another: the
quantity on board of each vessel was enormous. Another officer, three
seamen, and myself, were all that were on board of her. We had a
four-oared gig, a small narrow thing (nick-named by the sailors a
"coffin"), to make our escape in.
Being quite prepared, we started. It was a fearful moment; the wind
freshened, and whistled through our rigging, and the night was so
dark, that we could not see our bowsprit. We had only our foresail
set; but with a strong flood-tide and a fair wind, with plenty of it,
we passed between the advanced frigates like an arrow. It seemed to me
like entering the gates of hell. As we flew rapidly along, and our
own ships disappeared in the intense darkness, I thought of Dante's
inscription over the portals:--"You who enter here, leave hope
behind."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account