charge as captain,
and a happy lad was he. But long before he reached England this same
gun-brig was recaptured by the French, and this same middy, prize crew
and all, made prisoners. He was not so happy then! only this is the
fortune of war.
Jack Mackenzie used to boast that the _Tonneraire_ carried the smartest
lot of midshipmen that the service could boast of. They were indeed a
fine lot, not midship_mites_ but midship_men_; for some indeed had
been, for acts of valour, promoted from gunners or boatswains.
It needed all their strength and courage to fight the battle I shall now
briefly describe.
Everything, it is said, is fair in love and war. I do not know about the
love, but I am certain about the war. It is the aim and object of any
one nation carrying on war with another, not only to destroy the
war-ships of the enemy, but to sink and burn her vessels of commerce
wherever found. In this memorable cruise of Jack Mackenzie's, then, he
was ever on the outlook for a sail or sails. The _Tonneraire_ was as
fleet as the wind. If, then, a man-o'-war, French or Spanish, was fallen
in with, unless the odds seemed out of all proportion against him, Jack
fought her. If she was too big he performed a strategic retreat; well,
in plainer language, he ran away.
But he used to send boats in and around the numerous islands on the
coast of France to reconnoitre, and frequently they found something
lying at anchor worth attacking. When, one forenoon, Tom Fairlie
returned and reported a whole convoy of merchantmen lying at anchor
under the protection of a frigate and the forts between the island of
N---- and the mainland, Jack at once held a council of war, and
it was resolved to attack after nightfall. On this occasion all the
boats save one were needed, and the little expedition consisted of seven
officers, over one hundred Seamen, and fifty marines.
As usual, the boarding took place after dark. I need not describe the
fight; it was fierce, brief, and terrible, but finally the frigate was
captured.
At this time very little wind was blowing, and a half-moon in the sky
shed a sad but uncertain light upon the blood-slippery decks.
And now a council of war was held to consider what had best be done. The
destruction of the fleet of fifteen merchantmen, who as the tide was
running out had grounded in shallow water, was imperative. It was
determined, therefore, to leave a sufficient force of men on board the
captured vess
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