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Peter Simple

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<h3>Chapter Fifty Eight.</h3> <h4>How we passed the Sound, and what passed in the Sound—the captain overhears again a conversation between Swinburne and me.</h4> I was on the signal chest abaft, counting the convoy, when Swinburne came up to me. “Have you been here before, with a convoy, Swinburne?” “To be sure I have; and it’s sharp work that I’ve seen here, Mr Simple. Work, that I’ve an idea our captain won’t have much stomach for.” “Swinburne, I beg you will keep your thoughts relative to the captain to yourself; recollect the last time. It is my duty not to listen to them.” “And I should rather think, to report them also, Mr Simple,” said Captain Hawkins, who had crept up to us, and overheard our conversation. “In this instance there is no occasion for my reporting them, sir,” replied I, “for you have heard what has passed.” “I have, sir,” replied he; “and I shall not forget the conversation.” I turned forward. Swinburne had made his retreat the moment that he heard the voice of the captain. “How many sails are there in sight, sir?” inquired the captain. “One hundred and sixty-three, sir,” replied I. “Signal to convoy to close from the Acasta,” reported the midshipman of the watch. We repeated it, and the captain descended to his cabin. We were then running about four miles an hour, the water very smooth, and Anholt lighthouse hardly visible on deck, bearing N.N.W. about twenty miles. In fact, we were near the entrance of the Sound, which, the reader may be aware, is a narrow passage leading into the Baltic Sea. My watch was nearly out, when the midshipman who was looking round with his glass on the Copenhagen side, reported three gun-boats, sweeping out from behind a point. I examined them, and went down to report them to the captain. When I came on deck, more were reported, until we counted ten, two of them large vessels, called praams. The captain now came on deck, and I reported them. We made the signal of enemy in sight, to the Acasta, which was answered. They divided—six of them pulling along shore towards the convoy in the rear, and four coming out right for the brig. The Acasta now made the signal for “Boats manned and armed to be held in readiness.” We hoisted out our pinnace, and lowered down our cutters—the other men-of-war doing the same. In about a quarter of an hour, the gun-boats opened their fire with their long thirty-two pounders, and their first shot went right through the hull of the brig, just abaft the fore-bits; fortunately, no one was hurt. I turned round to look at the captain; he was as white as a sheet. He caught my eye, and turned aft, when he was met by Swinburne’s eye, steadily fixed upon him. He then walked to the other side of the deck. Another shot ploughed up the water close to us, rose, and came through the hammock-netting, tearing out two of the hammocks, and throwing them on the quarter-deck, when the Acasta hoisted out pennants, and made the signal to send our pinnace and cutter to the assistance of vessels astern. The signal was also made to the Isis and Reindeer. I reported the signal, and inquired who was to take the command. “You, Mr Simple, will take the pinnace, and order Mr Swinburne into the cutter.” “Mr Swinburne, sir!” replied I; “the brig will, in all probability, be in action soon, and his services as a gunner will be required.” “Well, then, Mr Hilton may go. Beat to quarters. Where is Mr Webster?” The second lieutenant was close to us, and he was ordered to take the duty during my absence. I jumped into the pinnace, and shoved off; ten other boats from the Acasta and the other men-of-war were pulling in the same direction, and I joined them. The gun-boats had now opened fire upon the convoy astern, and were sweeping out to capture them, dividing themselves into two parties, and pulling towards different portions of the convoy. In half-an-hour we were within gun-shot of the nearest, which directed its fire at us; but the lieutenant of the Acasta, who commanded the detachment, ordered us to lie on our oars for a minute, while he divided his force in three divisions, of four boats each, with instructions that we should each oppose a division of two gun-boats. This was well arranged. I had the command of one division, for the first lieutenants had not been sent away from the Isis and Reindeer, and having inquired which of the divisions of gun-boats I was to oppose, I pulled for them. In the meantime, we observed that the two praams, and two gun-boats, which had remained behind us, and had been firing at the Racehorse, had also divided—one praam attacking the Acasta, the two gun-boats playing upon the Isis, and the other praam engaging the Rattlesnake and Reindeer; the latter vessel being in a line with us, and about half a mile farther out, so that she could not return any effectual fire, or, indeed, receive much damage. One of the praams mounted ten guns, and the other eight. The last was opposed to the Rattlesnake, and the fire was kept up very smartly, particularly by the Acasta and the enemy. In about a quarter of an hour I arrived with my division close to the vessel which was the nearest to the enemy. It was a large Sunderland-built ship. The gun-boats, which were within a quarter of a mile of her, sweeping to her as fast as they could, as soon as they perceived our approach, directed their fire upon us, but without success, except the last discharge, in which, we being near enough, they had loaded with grape. The shot fell a little short, but one piece of grape struck one of the bowmen of the pinnace, taking off three fingers of his right hand as he was pulling his oar. Before they could fire again, we were sheltered by the vessel, pulling close to her side, hid from the enemy. This continued for some time, the enemy not advancing nearer, but now firing into the Sunderland-ship, which protected us. At last the master of the ship looked over the side, and said to me, “I say, my joker, do you call this giving me assistance? I think I was better off before you came. Then I had only my share of the enemy’s fire, but now that you have come, I have it all. I’m riddled like a sieve, and have lost four men already. Suppose you give me a spell now—pull behind the vessel ahead of us. I’ll take my chance.” I pulled up to the other vessel, a large brig, and the captain, as soon as we came alongside, said, “I see what you’re about, and I’ll just leave you my vessel to take care of. No use losing my men, or being knocked on the head.” “All’s right—you can’t do better, and we can’t do better either.” His boat was lowered down, and getting in with his men, he pulled to another vessel, and lay behind it, all ready to pull back if a breeze sprang up. As was to be expected, the gun-boats shifted their fire to the deserted vessel, which the boats lay behind, and thus did the action in our quarter continue until it was dark; the gun-boats not choosing to advance, and was restricted from pulling out to attack them. But I soon perceived that the gun-boats were nearing us every time that they fired, and I now discharged grape alone, waiting for the flash of the fire to ascertain their direction. At last I could perceive their long low hulls, not two cables’ lengths from us, and their sweeps lifting from the water. It was plain that they were advancing to board, and I resolved to anticipate them if possible. I had fired ahead of the brig, and I now pulled with all my boats astern, giving my orders to the officers, and laying on our oars in readiness. The gun-boats were about half a cable’s length from each other, pulling up abreast, and passing us at about the same distance, when I directed the men to give way. I had determined to throw all my force upon the nearest boat, and in half a minute our bows were forced between their sweeps, which we caught hold of to force our way alongside. The resistance of the Danes was very determined. Three times did I obtain a footing on the deck, and three times was I thrown back into the boats. At last we had fairly obtained our ground, and were driving them gradually forward, when, as I ran on the gunwale to obtain a position more in advance of my men, I received a blow with the butt end of a musket, I believe on the shoulder, which knocked me overboard, and I fell between the sweeps, and sank under the vessel’s bottom. I rose under the stern; but I was so shook with the violence of the blow, that I was for some time confused; still I had strength to keep myself above water, and paddled, as it appeared, away from the vessel, until I hit against a sweep which had fallen overboard. This supported me, and I gradually recovered myself. A light breeze rippled the water, and I knew that I had no time to lose. In about five minutes I heard the sound of oars, and perceived a boat crossing me. I hailed as loud as I could—they heard me; laid on their oars—and I hailed again—they pulled to me, and took me in. It was the master of the brig, who, aware of the capture of one gun-boat, and the retreat of the other, was looking for his vessel; or, as he told me, for what was left of her. In a short time we found her, and, although very much cut up, she had received no shot under water. Here I may as well relate the events of the action. One of the other divisions of gun-boats had retreated when attacked by the boats. The other had beaten off the boats, and killed many of the men, but had suffered so much themselves, as to retreat without making any capture. The Acasta lost four men killed, and seven wounded; the Isis, three men wounded; the Reindeer had nobody hurt; the Rattlesnake had six men killed, and two wounded, including the captain; but of that I shall speak hereafter. I found that I was by no means seriously hurt by the blow I had received: my shoulder was stiff for a week, and very much discoloured, but nothing more. When I fell overboard I had struck against a sweep, which had cut my ear half off. The captain of the brig gave me dry clothes, and in a few hours I was very comfortably asleep, hoping to join my ship the next day; but in this I was disappointed. The breeze was favourable and fresh; but we were clear of the Sound, but a long way astern of the convoy, and none of the headmost men-of-war to be seen. I dressed and went on deck, and immediately perceived that I had little chance of joining my ship until we arrived at Carlscrona, which proved to be the case. About ten o’clock, the wind died away, and we had from that time such baffling light winds, that it was six days before we dropped our anchor, every vessel of the convoy having arrived before us. <hr></div> <div class="bodytext"> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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