Chapter XXIV: The Last of the Damsel of Lyme

WITHIN an hour or so I was up and about, though feeling faint and dizzy from the result of the struggle. My head was swathed in a bandage, while a stiffness in my leg revealed the fact that 'twas bruised from thigh to knee.

Jack Staynton had come off lightly, though an arquebus ball had ploughed a furrow through his close-cropped hair, and a pike-thrust had rent his sleeve from elbow to shoulder, where his back-plate had stopped the steel. Jack had promptly spitted his antagonist with a rapier, but, as he said, 'twas close enough to suit him.

As for Sir Thomas Slingsby, he fared the worst of all three, for in addition to the petronel ball that had lodged in his shoulder, a musket bullet had expended itself against his steel casque sufficiently hard to render him senseless.

While lying thus, one of the boarders, seemingly out of sheer lust of cruelty, had run him through the body with a sword. Yet in spite of these injuries the baronet still breathed, and the Admiral's own chirurgeon, worthy Master Green, expressed his opinion that Slingsby, being a hard and clean living man, he stood a fair chance of recovery. Of the crew of the _Damsel of Lyme_ only nine remained unscathed. Eleven had fought and died with their faces to the foe, while the rest of us, all more or less badly wounded, had been transferred to the already crowded cockpit of the _Ark Royal_.

Then I bethought me of the pinnace. "Jack, where is she?" I asked, fearful lest he should be compelled to tell me that she had sunk.

"But half a league astern," he replied. "Bear on me and let's on deck, and you will see her with your own eyes."

With this we made our way over and betwixt broken gear and dismounted guns that encumbered the deck and gained the shot-shattered bulwarks.

The running fight had ceased. To leeward, sheltering in Calais roads, lay the bulk of the Great Armada, the large galleons and galeases at anchor nearest to us, like strong castles fearing no assault, with the galleys in the middle ward and the pinnaces and flat-bottomed craft, that were to ferry Parma's army across the Straits, lying close in shore.

We could see their crews busily engaged in making good the damage aloft, for we knew that 'twas Medina Sidonia's intention to put to sea to attack us as soon as this work was done, and that while we were thus held in play, the Spanish army of well-disciplined veterans would be embarked and taken across to Dover or Sandwich.

Well to windward of our fleet I perceived a group of small vessels with their masts shot wholly away, others in a more or less damaged state, and amongst them I recognised the _Damsel of Lyme_.

The heavy mauling she had received had not marred the graceful sheer of her hull, but, withal, she was so cruelly punished that I knew she would never be fit to take her place in action for many a long day, and I communicated my fears to my trusty comrade.

"Nay, Ralph," he replied, "you'll never stand on her decks again, I trow. This night the Admiral sends her on her last voyage."

"What say you?" I asked anxiously. "Is she unseaworthy, and must be got rid of as an encumbrance to the fleet? Alack-a-day, Jack, 'tis hard."

"She'll be sunk, sure enough, Ralph, but in the midst of the enemy. Lord Howard has chosen these vessels you see yonder to carry fire into the midst of those Spaniards yonder. The wind is fair. Each of these six craft will be smothered in pitch and tar and crammed to the hatchways with oil, brimstone, sulphur, and what else will take fire with ease. Captain Young, assisted by Captain Prowse, will steer them as close to the enemy as they durst, then, setting their vessels on fire, will trust to wind and tide to bear them into the midst of the Spaniards' ships."

"Then the _Damsel of Lyme_ is well spared, Jack," I replied.

{Illustration: "WE HAD PLAYED OUR PART." [ p. 295.}

For a few moments I remained lost in thought, then, turning suddenly, I exclaimed:

"I must take my own pinnace on her last voyage, Jack."

"Nay," he replied, "'tis impossible. You can scarce stand. Besides, the Lord High Admiral has made all arrangements for the crews of these vessels."

With that I left him, and, pulling myself together so that my weakness should not be apparent, I made straight for the cabin of my Lord Howard of Effingham.

At the door I was met by an officer, who demanded my name and business, and after a short delay I was ushered into the presence of the Lord High Admiral.

I found him seated at a table which was covered with charts and plans and the remains of a hasty meal. Bending over a chart of Calais Roads were Vice-Admiral Hawkins and Captains Young and Prowse, the two latter being chosen as first and second in command of the fireships.

"Your business, sir?" asked Lord Howard, for I had only stated to the officer outside my name and rank.

Briefly I expressed my wish, but to my chagrin the Admiral stopped me with a gesture.

"Nay, young sir, the matter is already planned out."

"But, my lord!" I exclaimed, "the _Damsel of Lyme_ is my own craft----"

"Your own craft, sirrah? Know you that in time of war there is no such thing as So-and-so's ship? If, for example, I, as Lord High Admiral, chose to destroy one of the ships of the Free Companies of London for the well-being of the realm, who would dare to say me nay? Much as I admire your devotion and duty and your proper love for your command, I cannot go back upon my orders."

With that I thanked my Lord of Effingham and withdrew, sorrowfully enough in all conscience, for already another was without requesting an audience.

"'Tis of no avail!" I exclaimed dismally, as I rejoined Jack upon the quarter-deck.

"Said I not so?" he replied; then, consolingly, he added: "Well, Ralph, perhaps 'tis for the best, and in any case we can watch and see how nobly the _Damsel of Lyme_ bears herself to the end."

We remained talking for the space of about five minutes, when a messenger came up to us requesting me to instantly repair to my Lord Howard of Effingham's cabin.

"Methinks you may have your wish, Captain Roy, after all," said the Admiral. "Master Welsh, who was to take the _Damsel of Lyme_, has been gravely injured whilst engaged in preparing the pinnace for this night's work. See hither," tapping the chart that lay open before him, "do you know the approach to Calais Roads?"

"My father was a Royal pilot, my lord----"

"Nay," he exclaimed irritably. "Forbear to discuss the virtues of your family. Do you know this port?"

"And 'twas he who taught me much concerning the Channel," I continued, determined not to detract from my parent's knowledge. "I can truly claim to have a sound cognizance of this coast."

"'Tis well," replied Lord Howard; but far from taking my word alone, he straightway questioned me concerning the Banc a la Ligne, the Rouge Riden, the Dunkerque shoals and other dangers lying off the port of Calais, as well as to the set of the tides at various hours betwixt the two consecutive high tides.

"That will do, Captain Roy!" he exclaimed. "You can proceed aboard the _Damsel of Lyme_--your pinnace, mark you--and take your orders from this gentleman, Captain Prowse."

Overjoyed, I thanked the Admiral and withdrew, feeling almost my former self already. Ere Captain Prowse left the flagship I sought his permission to take three of my crew in place of the men already on board, since they knew the vessel, and would the better carry out my orders. To this he consented willingly.

"I trust that I may be one of the three," said Jack. "We have been together in times of storm and danger these five years, so it is meet that I should share this venture with you."

Without a word I gripped his hand, then, having selected two tried and trusted men from the survivors of my crew, we entered the longboat that awaited us.

On board the _Damsel of Lyme_ all preparations for the daring attack had been completed. She was a veritable floating oil-store, while, in addition, her three guns were loaded and crammed to their muzzles with pieces of iron, short lengths of chain, steel bars, and, in fact, any metal that could be rammed home.

At two hours before midnight we slipped our cables, and, having passed through the English fleet, formed into a single line, eight ships in all. Each carried but its foretopsail, except the _Damsel of Lyme_, which, having lost her topmast, set her fore course only. Having the wind dead astern and a rising tide, it mattered little whether the vessels were steered or not, since with this canvas they kept straight towards their goal.

Ahead we saw the gleam of our foes' poop-lanthorns like the lights of a vast floating city, for, deeming themselves in perfect security, the Spaniards took no precautions either to screen them or to send out row-boats to patrol outside their crowded lines.

Nearer and nearer we drew, still unperceived by our antagonists, till we were within culverin shot of the outer line of ships.

Just as I was remarking to Jack that 'twas time we were discovered, a vivid flash leapt from the side of one of the galleons, so that the rest of the ships were visible as if in the gleam of lightning. The shot fell wide, passing betwixt us and the pinnace on which was Captain Young.

Instantly the firing was taken up by the remaining ships that were lying in a favourable position to use their broadsides, and a storm of missiles flew all around us, churning up the water and knocking splinters from our already shattered sides.

To this I paid scant heed, keeping my eyes fixed upon the pinnace Daisy, from which Captain Prowse was to give the signal to fire the ships of his command.

"There it goes!" I shouted, as a red light was shown above the bulwark of the Daisy, which during the last quarter of an hour had forged somewhat ahead of us. "Into the boats, lads."

Smartly the two men dropped over the poop into a boat that was being towed astern. Jack waited till I had lighted a brand from a concealed lanthorn in the cabin. I gave one last look at the place that had been my home, then, running to the main-hatch, I dropped the flaming torch into the hold.

For a few rounds it spluttered, the oily tow caught, and a flame shot up nearly a score feet into the air.

We had played our part. It now remained to save ourselves--if we could.

Down into the waiting boat we dropped, the painter was severed, and the four of us, taking an oar apiece, pulled for our lives.

Shots fell thick around us, till the boat was well-nigh filled with the water they threw up. A roar of exultation burst from the Spanish ships, for our foes concluded that they had succeeded in setting fire to their attackers. But ere long their shouts of triumph changed to cries of terror, when they perceived that the burning was not their doing, but that eight floating pillars of fire were drifting down upon them.

We were now fairly safe from the falling shot, so, resting on our oars, we allowed ourselves to gaze upon the scene of destruction. The glare of the flames made night as clear as day. The Spaniards, huddled together so that scarce a vessel had swinging room, were trying to clap on sail, slipping or cutting their cables as they did so, at the same time shouting, yelling, and crying out in their terror like men possessed.

Even in that, to us, magnificent scene I felt impelled by some irresistible desire to follow the course of the _Damsel of Lyme_. Sheeted in flame from stem to stern, she bore on as steadily as if guided by the helm, till her shattered foremast, wreathed with tongues of fire, went by the board.

Then, filling broadside on to the wind, she dropped alongside two huge galleons which, in the act of unmooring, had fouled each other. I could see their frenzied crews trying to ward off the impending danger, till, scorched by the flames, they withdrew. I seemed to hear above the roar of the floating furnaces the dull grinding crash as the pinnace brought up against her victims. There she lay, glowing fiercely, till the flames had taken full hold upon her giant victims. Then amid a lurid flash, a smother of sparks, and a dense column of smoke, the gallant pinnace sank beneath the waves, two proud galleons of Spain serving as her funeral pyre.

The _Damsel of Lyme_ had made her last voyage.