The Three LieutenantsKingston, William Henry Giles
General
The Three Lieutenants
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Officers -- Juvenile fiction; Sea stories
Their fat friend, the first lieutenant, received them at
the gangway, with his hat in one hand and his sword in the other. There
was no bluster in him now.
"Where is the commodore?" asked Higson, looking round the deck, which
was strewed with dead men.
"There!" answered the lieutenant, pointing to the mangled form of a man
which lay on the quarter-deck, his uniform alone showing that it was
that of the commodore. He had been almost cut in two by a shot from
Long Tom.
"How many men have you lost?" asked Higson.
"Twenty-five," answered the lieutenant. "Our crew declared that they
were fighting with devils and not men, and refused to fire another
shot."
"If they had handled their guns as our fellows did theirs, we shouldn't
have taken you so easily," answered Higson. "You deserve a better
ship's company."
"Many thanks for your compliment," answered the crestfallen lieutenant.
"It is the fortune of war."
The schooners being brought up close to the corvette, the _Supplejack_
anchored near them, with Long Tom so trained that, should the
Carthagenans attempt to recapture their vessels, they might quickly be
sent to the bottom. The brig's boarding-nettings were also triced up, a
vigilant watch was kept, and pistols, pikes, and cutlasses placed in
readiness for immediate use to resist any attack which might be made on
her.
Murray, while he thus kept watch over the captured vessels, felt himself
in a delicate and trying position. The Carthagenan government had
hostages in their hands on whom they might wreak their vengeance. Had
they, indeed, known how dear one of the prisoners was to the young
commander, they would probably have made use of the advantage they
possessed. He felt sure that a bold course was the only safe one. He
might have led his crew on shore and endeavoured to rescue the captives,
but the attempt he knew would have been sheer madness, as a piece of
artillery at the end of one of the streets might have sent him and his
men to destruction. Murray, like a wise man, had retired to his cabin
to consider what was best to be done. He speedily made up his mind, and
sent for his second in command.
"Higson," he said, "I have resolved to go on shore myself, and demand
the release of the prisoners. I leave you in charge of the brig. Keep
an eye on the corvette and schooners, and sink them rather than allow
them to escape."
"You may depend on it that we will, sir," was the answer. "I only wish
that we could get our friends on board, that we might stand in and
batter their town about the ears of the rascals."
"They have had a pretty severe lesson already," said Murray, "and I have
hopes that they will not refuse to accede to my demands. Get the gig
ready, with an ensign and a flag of truce. There's no time to be lost."
Higson went on deck, and the gig's crew were piped away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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