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
as Dibdin says, had an eye upon us. I knew we could not easily get out
of the Gut of Gibraltar without knowing it; and accordingly, on the
third day after leaving the frigate, we made the rock early in the
morning, and, by two o'clock, rounded Europa Point. I had ordered the
men to bend the cable, and, like many other young officers, fancied it
was done because they said it was, and because I had ordered it.
It never once occurred to me to go and see if my orders had been
executed; indeed, to say the truth, I had quite as much as I could
turn my hand to: I was at the helm from twelve o'clock at night till
six in the morning, looking out for the land; and when I ordered one
of the men to relieve me, I directed him how to steer, and fell into
a profound sleep, which lasted till ten o'clock; after which I was
forced to exert the whole of my ingenuity in order to fetch into the
Bay, and prevent being blown through the Gut; so that the bending of
the cable escaped my memory until the moment I required the use of the
anchor.
As I passed under the stern of one of the ships of war in the Bay,
with my prize colours flying, the officer on deck hailed me, and said
I "had better shorten sail." I thought so too, but how was this to be
done? My whole ship's company were too drunk to do it, and though I
begged for some assistance from his Majesty's ship, it blew so fresh,
and we passed so quick, that they could not hear me, or were not
inclined. Necessity has no law. I saw among the other ships in the bay
a great lump of a transport, and I thought she was much better able to
bear the concussion I intended for her than any other vessel; because
I had heard then, and have been made sure of it since, that her owners
(like all other owners) were cheating the government out of thousands
of pounds a year. She was lying exactly in the part of the Bay
assigned for the prizes; and as I saw no other possible mode of
"bringing the ship to anchor," I steered for "the lobster smack," and
ran slap on board of her, to the great astonishment of the master,
mate, and crew.
The usual expletives, a volley of oaths and curses on our lubberly
heads, followed the shock. This I expected, and was as fully prepared
for as I was for the fall of my foremast, which, taking the foreyard
of the transport, fell over the starboard quarter and greatly relieved
me on the subject of shortening sail. Thus, my pretty brig was first
reduced to a sloop and then to a hulk; fortunately, her bottom was
sound. I was soon cut clear of the transport, and called out in a
manly voice, "Let go the anchor."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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