The Prime Minister

“Well, I trust you have not found me wanting in hospitality, at all events,” continued the old officer, “though you have full right to complain of our long voyage; but let me tell you, we have had, for this time of the year, most unusual weather; first, the heavy gales we experienced; then the thick heavy fogs, which hung like funereal palls over the face of the deep; next the smooth sea and sudden favourable breeze, which seems, however, inclined to play us a jade’s trick, and leave us in the lurch; and now those threatening clouds away there to the south-east. That is not the quarter from whence gales generally spring up off this coast; but if those clouds don’t hold a very large capful of wind, I am very much mistaken. During the whole course of my life I never met such unnatural weather, and I don’t like the look of it. Depend on it there’s something strange going to happen, though I would not say so to the crew, or to the women, if we had any on board, and thank Heaven we have not.”

The officer who had charge of the navigation of the ship, who in the English service is called the master, more correctly denominated by the Portuguese the pilot, at that moment came up to the captain, taking off his hat respectfully, as he pointed out the dark clouds in the horizon. “We shall have a gale before long, Senhor Captain,” said the veteran, who was a fine specimen of the sailor of times long, alas! passed by in the annals of Portugal, during her palmy days of naval supremacy. “’Twill be a breeze which will make us look sharp after our sticks. Shall we begin to get in some of our light canvass; for I like not the look of the weather. There is a storm out there, muttering ugly threats, from which ’twere wiser to take warning.”

“You are right, Senhor Nunez,” answered the Captain. “Those are signs of a gale, or we have been to sea for a century between us to very little purpose; but there is no immediate necessity to shorten sail, so we may as well not lose the advantage of the breeze, while it lasts, to make as much way good in our voyage as we can; for we shall probably, before long, be blown far enough from our course to weary us with beating up to our port once more.”

“As you think fit, Senhor, but it will be down on us without much further warning,” observed the pilot, as he kept his glance towards the south-east.

The officers continued walking the deck, but their conversation was short and disjointed; their eyes constantly glancing round the horizon in search of further signs of the coming storm; yet, notwithstanding the prognostications of the commander and the pilot, the breeze held tolerably steady, only shifting now and then half a point or so, which required a corresponding attention in trimming sails, so as not to deviate from their course.

“Ah, Captain Pinto,” exclaimed Don Luis, with a smile on his lips, “I trust that this once, at least, my hopes rather than your forebodings may be realised; see, the breeze is still our friend, nor does it seem inclined to desert us, and perhaps, after all our fears, yonder mass may prove but a fog bank, through which we may quickly cleave our way.”

“Still sanguine, and expecting better fortune than will probably fall to our lot? But, although your hopes are bright, I am not to be deceived by any treacherous appearances. Even while you have been speaking the breeze has fallen; look over the side, and observe the ship makes much less way through the water than she did a few minutes ago; and see her wake, for how short a distance does the foamy line extend ere the waves obliterate all signs of it! Mark me, the breeze, like hollow friends, will soon desert us. Ah! said I not true? The words have scarcely passed my lips ere my predictions are fulfilled.”

As he spoke, the sails gave one loud flap against the mast, though they again bulged out as the last effort of the dying breeze once more filled them. In a moment the commander was all life and animation. “In all studding sails, Senhor Alvez,” he shouted to his first lieutenant. “They are like officious friends, and do us more harm than benefit.”

“All hands, shorten sail,” was echoed through the ship, as the sailors sprung with alacrity on deck.

“Be quick, my men, be quick! There’s no time to lose! – Man your downhauls! – Let fly your gear!” shouted the Captain, through his speaking-trumpet; and in a minute the light, airy canvass, before extended like wings on each side of the larger sails, was taken into the tops, or hauled down on deck. “Hand the royals, Senhor Alvez,” cried the commander again. “Furl topgallant-sails, and down with the royal and topgallant-yards!” he quickly added. “We may as well relieve the craft of all top-hamper: she’ll dance all the lighter for it.”

These orders were quickly accomplished by a ready and active crew, who sprung aloft with all the activity, and somewhat of the chattering, of monkeys; for, in those times, the strict discipline and regularity of the present day were not observed in any service, and silence was not considered a necessary part of duty. Scarcely had the men returned on deck, when they were again ordered aloft, although it had now fallen a complete calm, the vessel rolling on the long smooth swell which seemed to rise without any impelling power, like the breathing of some vast giant in his sleep. The sun, now sinking rapidly in the ocean, still shone with dazzling brightness, from a dark blue sky yet unclouded in that part of the heavens in which his course lay. The sails flapped lazily against the masts, with a dull sound like a distant cannonade, the timbers creaked, and the water splashed, as she slowly rolled from side to side, the bubbles of foam sparkling brightly around the black and shining wales.

“Hand the courses – brail up the mizen!” suddenly shouted the Captain; for in those days the last-mentioned sail was carried, – a large unwieldy latteen-sail, with a long heavy yard, requiring a strong force of the crew to hand, instead of that which we now call a spanker. After much hauling and labour, the order was accomplished. “Close reef and furl the topsails!” he added; “we will show naked sticks to yonder blast, and may then laugh at its efforts! There is no use running the chance of having our canvass blown out of the bolt-ropes.”

In a few minutes the towering pillar of canvass had disappeared; and the ship, under bare poles, rocked like a cradle on the ocean, without advancing an inch in her course; the helm, too, having lost all its guiding power, her head moved slowly about, as if uncertain of its way. The atmosphere, which in the morning had been so brisk and light, became loaded and oppressive to the feelings; but as yet no breath even of the adverse blast was felt. A thick haze was collecting round the disk of the sun, which had now assumed an angry, fiery hue, – its size many times increased from its ordinary appearance; and, as it sank into the ocean, the fierce glowing blaze of the western sky, tinged with its light the borders of the approaching mass of clouds.

“Seldom have I seen the sun set in so hot a passion,” observed the Captain to Don Luis. “He does it in kindness, however, to warn us that we shall be wishing for his light again before he can possibly appear to aid us.”

Onward came the frowning mass of clouds, with their light, fiery avant couriers; and, as the shades of night were fast throwing a dark mantle over the ocean, suddenly, without a moment’s warning, a fierce squall struck the ship, turning her head rapidly round, the water hissing and foaming about her bows. For a few moments again all was calm, – the angry breath, which had blown, seeming but some sudden ebullition of the spirit of the tempest, and to have passed in forgetfulness away. Yet treachery lurked beneath that tranquil air. Down came the blast with no second notice – strong and furious – driving onward before it the light and buoyant corvette. Away she flew over the milk-white ocean, like a sea-bird in search of its finny prey, now dipping her head into the trough of the fast-rising sea, then again ascending, and shaking it, to free herself from the sheets of spray which dashed around her.

“You see, my friend,” said Captain Pinto, touching Don Luis on the arm, “that my forebodings, as you called them, have turned out truer than your hopes. A few hours ago you were looking out ahead for land, and now how things have changed! There lies the land right over the taffrail, or a little on the larboard-quarter; for this gale has come from the south east, and here are we doomed to beat about, like the Flying Dutchman, before our port, without a chance of reaching it. But patience! it is a fine wind for outward-bound ships, and we must be content to be the sufferers.” He then beckoned the pilot to his side. “What say you, Senhor Nunez, shall we heave the ship to? There is no use running away from our course.”

“We may heave to the ship, if we like,” replied the old seaman; “but I much doubt if we have any canvass on board to keep her there: she would bear it if we made sail; though I suspect the wind would soon take it in for us. If I might advise, we will run on before it while it lasts; for I do not think, by the way it came on, it will hold long; and then there will be less risk of damaging the ship.”

“Let it be so, Senhor Nunez,” answered the Captain. “Such, also, is my opinion. A gale like this is not to be played with, if one would keep one’s gear in condition.”

The waves were not as yet running very high, but were short and broken, tossing up their thin foam-covered crests with sudden, quick, and angry jerks, seeming to excite each other to fury as they vied in their maddening leaps. The sky had become of one dark hue, the thick mist flying rapidly over it; and the sea, when perceived under the frothy sheet which covered it, had assumed a cold, leaden colour. It would have been a sad and dreary prospect to the seamen, with their long night-watch before them, had not custom reconciled them to their hard lot, and caused them to be insensible to the dangers they encountered. Everything was made snug on board; and, steady men being placed at the wheel, the captain, followed by Don Luis, retired unconcernedly to his cabin, desiring to be called, if any change took place. Such was the state of affairs, as the almost impenetrable shades of night fell over the face of the ocean, while onward dashed the ship into the dark unknown expanse, like a man plunging, by his own intent, into the unexplored future of another world.

Volume One – Chapter Two

It was yet some hours before dawn. The gale had rather increased than lessened in fury, the corvette, with all her canvass closely furled, was driving impetuously before it, the wind whistled and howled through the rigging; the waves, now rising in mountainous billows, dashed high in wild confusion, and, rolling towards her, seemed, with savage intent, about to overwhelm her; but, proudly holding her course, she rushed through them unharmed. At intervals, too, flashes of lightning darted from the overcharged clouds, lighting up the scene again to leave the mighty void in greater obscurity than before.

At a moment when the heavens had emitted a flash longer continued and brighter than usual, a loud cry from the look-out men ahead was heard. “A sail ahead! Starboard! hard-a-starboard! or we shall be into her!” was passed along the decks with startling rapidity, and there was scarce time for the vessel to answer the helm, before the lofty masts and spars of a ship were seen towering to the sky, so close on board them, that the corvette seemed to graze her yards, as they flew by her like lightning. The stranger seemed, by the glance they had of her, to be a large ship, hove to on the starboard tack, under a close reefed main-topsail.

The old pilot, who had just come on deck to relieve the second lieutenant from his watch, gazed earnestly towards the void in which she had disappeared, as if he would penetrate its thick curtain of darkness, and shook his head as he observed, “I like not thus to meet a bark such as that we have just passed. She is an omen of death and destruction to some who float on these seas; and if she was built in any known port, I am very much mistaken.”

“What, Senhor Nunez! do you not take her for a real ship?” asked the second lieutenant. “For my own part, by her appearance, I had no doubt of it, and I felt my heart beat all the lighter when we were clear of her; now, if she were a phantom, as you seem to say, we should have gone clean through without any damage.”

“That comes of trusting to your new-fangled philosophy, instead of putting faith in the signs Heaven sends us to warn us of danger,” answered the pilot. “Not that I mean to say there was anything holy in yonder bark; but Heaven often permits evil spirits to work out its own purposes, for which she may perhaps be allowed to wander on this stormy ocean. I have not doubled the Cape for the last fifty years without seeing such sights as would make your hair stand on end, and your heart sink within you.”

“Well, well, I will not now dispute the point with you,” responded the young officer, “you are an older man by many years than I am, and of course have seen many more wonderful things; but we will discuss the subject some day when I can manage to keep my eyes open, which I can now scarcely do; however, ought I not, before I turn in, to let the captain know what we have seen?”

“Do as you like; but it will be rousing him up to little purpose,” said the old man. “The chances are, that the next time we see her, she will be right ahead, with all her canvass set, coming down upon us.”

The lieutenant was just descending to the main-deck, when at that instant a cry of surprise from one of the young midshipmen arrested him, and the stranger was perceived dashing after them, as she emerged from the obscurity, her white canvass gleaming brightly, as it reflected the flashes of lightning. He hastened down to call the captain, who, at the first summons, rushed on deck, where he was soon joined by his young passenger.

“I did not expect to see yonder stranger where he now is,” said the pilot, as, the captain joining him on the poop, he pointed out the phantom-looking ship; “and, for the life of me, I cannot make him out; but I think no good of him. He is more likely to be a foe than a friend to any mortal cruisers.”

“Whether he be friend or foe, he seems at all events in a great hurry to speak us,” exclaimed the Captain; “but methinks his speaking-trumpets will not be of much avail in a hurricane like this; why, the spirit of the storm laughs all human efforts to naught; and I should have thought he could scarcely have distinguished our bare poles through this inky darkness.”

“Those on board her don’t require any night glasses to see their prey,” said the old Pilot, gloomily; “they scent it from afar, as the vulture does a carcass.”

“Whether he can see us or not, here he comes,” shouted the Captain. “Beat to quarters – we will be prepared for him. Topmen, ready aloft. We will make sail, if necessary,” he added, turning to Senhor Nunez; “but he is, probably, one of our fire-eating friends, an Englishman, who will never let a ship on the high seas escape their scrutiny, in the hopes of finding an enemy worth engaging.”

“I don’t think he belongs to any nation that carries a flag,” answered Senhor Nunez, piously crossing himself, “and I have been vowing two wax candles to our Lady of Belem, to be bought out of my arrears of pay, if she will shield us from all the powers of darkness.”

“Our blessed Lady protect us from such!” said the Captain; “but I think we shall have none but mortal enemies to contend with in yonder ship.”

The men, in the meantime, went steadily to their quarters; and now that there was considerable danger to be incurred, their tongues were kept in silence, their ears ready to catch any orders that might follow, though they fully shared in the old pilot’s ideas as to the supernatural character of the ship in sight.

“Let every alternate gun be run out on the starboard side, Senhor Alvez,” said the Captain; “we cannot fight our entire battery in a sea like this; and a few well-handled guns will do more work than a whole broadside ill served; but I do not surmise we shall be brought to that pass. She will scarcely wish to fight us, and I have no intention of attacking her till I know what she is.”

This disposition of the crew took some little time to make, as there was danger, as well as difficulty, in putting the guns in fighting order. “Keep her edging away to the south,” he added, to the quarter-master, who was conning the ship; “we will endeavour to keep our friend on the starboard side.”

The order was scarcely given, when the stranger, ranging up on the starboard quarter, a voice from her forecastle hailed them; but the loud roaring of the blast, and dashing of the waves, drowned all distinctions of sounds, and before Captain Pinto, seizing his speaking-trumpet, had time to answer, a shot from her bow gun whistled over their heads, followed by six or eight others, as she ranged alongside; but, flying high, they did little damage.

“Ah! our friend has taken the tone of his temper to-night from the weather, and is rather inclined for strife; but we will show him, whoever he is, that he has caught a Tartar. Fire! my men, fire!” cried the Captain, “and aim low; he deserves some punishment for not making more polite inquiries respecting our health before he began the engagement, as a gentleman should do.” The order was obeyed with alacrity, two or three of the shot seeming to take effect on the hull of their adversary: for, by the bright flashes of the guns, some white spots were perceptible on her bulwarks, which might have convinced others less determinately superstitious, of her substantial nature.

“Topmen aloft, and make sail!” shouted the Captain, through his speaking-trumpet; “we will fight this daring stranger to every advantage; for it will not do to allow him to haul across our bows, as he seems to have some intention of doing, even at great risk to himself. At all events, he is not a person to be trifled with.”

The fore and main-topsails, closely-reefed, were now let fall, and, with great exertion, extended to their yard-arms; the two ships being thus on an equality of sailing, continued to run side by side, exchanging every now and then strong and noisy proofs of their vicinity, by an irregular discharge of their guns, as they could be brought to bear in the heavy sea that was running, and as they gained a momentary glance of each other. It was fearful thus fighting amid darkness on the raging ocean, which, of itself, afforded dangers sufficient to encounter; yet ’twas a scene which made the heart of Don Luis throb with wild excitement, such as he had never before experienced – the howling of the tempest, the muttered growls of the thunder, the roar of the guns, their bright flashes, and the forked lightning, which played around the masts of the ships, as if to remind them that they were liable to destruction from a far greater Power than that of which their own mortal efforts were capable. As yet the guns of the enemy had done no more damage than cutting some of the running rigging; but it was impossible to say what mischief those of the corvette had inflicted in retaliation, though, from the pertinacity of her opponent, it was supposed to have been but slight.

“If yonder ship does not carry the devil and a whole host of his imps on board, she must be an Englishman,” said the old Pilot, coming up to the captain’s side; “for no other mortals would have dreamed of engaging in a night like this, and she must fancy that she has got alongside a Frenchman: there’s no doubt of it.”

“I know not of what nation he is, though I am pretty certain of his mortal qualities,” answered the Captain. “But if he is an Englishman, I wish we could find some way of letting him know we are friends, for he will not leave us till he has either sunk us or blown us out of the water, if we cannot manage to treat him in the same way.”

“Where is the enemy? Where is the skulking foe?” was echoed along the decks by some of the crew; for since the last discharge of her guns their opponent had disappeared in the impenetrable darkness which surrounded them, increased by a thick mist, which came driving past; while others exclaimed, “Holy Virgin, that was no mortal bark! Ah, she has vanished as suddenly as she appeared! May the saints protect us, and gain us forgiveness for our sins; for we have been fighting with the powers of darkness?”

“That fellow is no Englishman, or he would not for a moment have lost sight of us, if he thought us an enemy,” cried the Captain. “No, no, I know those haughty islanders too well. He is some Frenchman, perhaps, who, from the few guns we used, mistakes us for a smaller vessel of the foe, and will be down again upon us directly. We must fight our whole broadside, Senhor Alvez, at every risk, to undeceive him as to our size; and we will take care that he does not run away from us, whoever he may be.”

“If we were to sail on till doomsday we should never come up with him, were he to seek to avoid us,” muttered the old Pilot, as he gazed earnestly towards the spot where the ship was last seen.

The first lieutenant descended to the main-deck, to see the orders executed: the guns were then loaded and run out, a most perilous undertaking; for the sea rushed through the open ports each roll the ship made, flooding the decks, almost filling the guns, wetting the ammunition, and extinguishing the matches. The seamen, frequently up to their knees in water, were exposed to the danger of the guns breaking loose, an accident which did indeed occur more than once; but, encouraged by their officers, they perseveringly retained their stations. Once, indeed, the dangers and horrors of the terrific scene overcame the courage of some, and they showed symptoms of abandoning themselves to despair, calling on the Virgin and all the saints to aid them; but the gallant Captain Pinto, followed by Don Luis and some of the other officers, rushed among them, so earnestly encouraging them to do their duty, both by words and gestures, that they promised to fight to the last gasp, and sink with their colours flying.

Don Luis returned with the captain to the poop, offering to take charge of some of the small brass guns and swivels, should they come to closer quarters.

During this state of doubt and uncertainty, every instant seemed an hour; for no one could tell when they might again be engaged, or what might be the issue of the combat with an adversary which was equal to, if not larger than their own vessel. As the thick mist we have spoken of flew past them, the dim outline of the foe was again distinguished by some of the keenest eyes on board, still in the same relative position in which they had last seen her, and by her movements she evidently had them in sight, but seemed disinclined to renew the engagement.

“Give him a shot for the honour of Portugal,” shouted the Captain. “We will convince him that we, at all events, are perfectly ready to fight.”