Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone DaysKingston, William Henry Giles
General
Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone Days
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Midshipmen -- Fiction; Sea stories
and I was left clinging to the side, with a dozen sabres flashing above
my head. As to letting go, I never thought of that. I kept Mr
Johnson's pistol in my right hand, and was about to fire, when down came
a sword, which would have clove my head in two, had not a lieutenant of
marines in the next boat interposed his own weapon, and saved me. But
the act was one of self-devotion, for the Frenchman brought his sabre
down on my preserver's arm, while another thrust a pike through his
body, and hurled him back, mortally wounded, to the bottom of the boat.
I should, after all, have shared the same fate, had not Mr Johnson at
that instant recovered himself, and with a shout, loud enough to make
our enemies quake, up he sprang, and, with one whirl of his cutlass,
drove the Frenchmen from the side. Over the bulwarks he leaped; I and
most of the men from the two boats followed. But though we had gained
the deck, there seemed but little chance of our forcing our way forward.
Our men, in the first desperate struggle alongside, had lost their
firearms, and for a few seconds the tall figure of the boatswain, as he
stood up facing the enemy, offered a mark to a score of muskets aimed at
him. The Frenchmen, expecting to see him fall, came on boldly. I
grasped his pistol, hoping to avenge him.
"The forecastle is our station, lads," he shouted, and his stentorian
voice was heard above the din of battle.
"Make a lane, there; make a lane, there," he added, dashing furiously
among the enemy. I followed by his side. His whirling cutlass flashed
round, and sent the Frenchmen flying on either side. On we went, intent
on our object, bearing down all opposition, to gain the forecastle,
while another party had got possession of the helm. The deck was by
this time covered with killed and wounded. Many of our men had fallen.
We strode over friend and foe alike, alive or dead. The break of the
topgallant forecastle was gained. It was desperately defended, but the
boatswain, clearing with a sweep of his cutlass a spot to stand on,
sprang up among the astonished Frenchmen. I felt myself lifted up after
him; our men followed; and though pikes were thrust at us, and pistols
were flashed in our faces for a few seconds, our opponents either leaped
overboard or threw themselves on the deck, and sang out for quarter.
Some of our men, appointed for the purpose, went to the head sails,
while others instantly cut the cable. I glanced my eye upwards; the
topmen, who had fought their way aloft, had cut loose the topsails with
their cutlasses, and they were now being sheeted home; but the fighting
was not over, a desperate attempt was being made by the enemy to drive
us out of the ship. The boatswain, meantime, was uttering his war
shouts, issuing orders to the men, and dealing death and wounds around.
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account