CAPTAIN CANOT -- BRANTZ MAYER (1854) (Episode 184/376)

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Déjà vu:
last ten minutes, had freshened enough to fan us along about a knot an
hour. Next, I imparted my discovery to the officers; and, passing once
more among the men to test their nerves, I said it was likely they
would have to encounter an angrier customer than the Dane. In fact, I
frankly told them our antagonist was unquestionably a British cruiser
of ten or twelve guns, from whose clutches there was no escape, unless
we repulsed the boats.
. . .

I found my crew as confident in the face of augmented risk as they had
been when we expected the less perilous Dane. Collecting their votes
for fight or surrender, I learned that all _but two_ were in favor of
resistance. I had no doubt in regard _to the mates_, in our
approaching trials.

By this time the breeze had again died away to utter calmness, while
the air was so still and fervent that our sweltering men almost sank
at the sweeps. I ordered them in, threw overboard several water-casks
that encumbered the deck, and hoisted our boat to the stern-davits to
prevent boarding in that quarter. Things were perfectly ship-shape all
over the schooner, and I congratulated myself that her power had been
increased by two twelve pound carronades, the ammunition, and part of
the crew of a Spanish slaver, abandoned on the bar of Rio Pongo a week
before my departure. We had in all seven guns, and abundance of
musketry, pistols and cutlasses, to be wielded and managed by
thirty-seven hands.

By this time the British boats, impelled by oars alone, approached
within half a mile, while the breeze sprang up in cat's-paws all round
the eastern horizon, but without fanning us with a single breath.
Taking advantage of one of these slants, the cruiser had followed her
boats, but now, about five miles off, was again as perfectly becalmed
as _we_ had been all day. Presently, I observed the boats converge
within the range of my swivel, and lay on their oars as if for
consultation. I seized this opportunity, while the enemy was huddled
together, to give him the first welcome; and, slewing the schooner
round with my sweeps, I sent him a shot from my swivel. But the ball
passed over their heads, while, with three cheers, they
separated,--the largest boat making directly for our waist, while the
others steered to cross our bow and attack our stern.

During the chase my weapons, with the exception of the pivot gun, were
altogether useless, but I kept a couple of sweeps ahead and a couple
astern to play the schooner, and employed that loud-tongued instrument
as the foe approached. The larger boat, bearing a small carronade, was
my best target, yet we contrived to miss each other completely until
my sixth discharge, when a double-headed shot raked the whole bank of
starboard oar-blades, and disabled the rowers by the severe
concussion. This paralyzed the launch's advance, and allowed me to
devote my exclusive attention to the other boats; yet, before I could
bring the schooner in a suitable position, a signal summoned the
assailants aboard the cruiser to repair damages. I did not reflect
until this moment of reprieve, that, early in the day, I had hoisted
the Portuguese ensign _to deceive the Dane_, and imprudently left it
aloft in the presence of _John Bull_! I struck the false flag at once,
unfurled the Spanish, and refreshing the men with a double allowance
of grog and grub, put them again to the sweeps. When the cruisers
reached their vessels, the men instantly re-embarked, while the boats
were allowed to swing alongside, which convinced me that the assault
would be renewed as soon as the rum and roast-beef of Old England had
strengthened the heart of the adversary. Accordingly, noon had not
long passed when our pursuers again embarked. Once more they
approached, divided as before, and again we exchanged ineffectual
shots. I kept them at bay with grape and musketry until I hear three
o'clock, when a second signal of retreat was hoisted on the cruiser,
and answered by exultant _vivas_ from my crew. It grieved me, I
confess, not to mingle my voice with these shouts, for I was sure that
the lion retreated to make a better spring, nor was I less
disheartened when the mate reported that nearly all the ammunition for
our cannons was exhausted. Seven kegs of powder were still in the
magazine, though not more than a dozen rounds of grape, cannister, or
balls, remained in the locker. There was still an abundance of
cartridges for pistols and musketry, but these were poor defences
against resolute Englishmen whose blood was up and who would
unquestionably renew the charge with reinforcements of vigorous men.
Fore and aft, high and low, we searched for missiles. Musket balls
were crammed in bags; bolts and nails were packed in cartridge paper;
slave shackles were formed with rope-yarns into chain-shot; and, in an
hour, we were once more tolerably prepared to pepper the foe.

. . .