The Log of a Privateersman | Page 6

to pass out round Portland, our noble spaces of new, white canvas were expanded one after the other, until we were under all plain sail, to our royal.
The day had been one of those quiet grey days that occasionally occur about the latter end of November; the sky a pallid, shapeless canopy of colourless cloud through which the sun at long intervals became faintly distinguishable for a few minutes at a time, then vanished again. There was little or no wind to speak of, the faint breathing that prevailed being from the northward. The air was very keen, the atmosphere so thick that our horizon was contracted to a limit of scarcely three miles, and it looked very much as though, with nightfall, we should have a fog. The moon was a long time past the full, and the small crescent to which she had been reduced would not rise until very late; there was a prospect, therefore, that the coming night would be both dark and thick; just the kind of night, in fact, when we might hope to blunder up against a ship belonging to the enemy, and take her by surprise.
Captain Winter's plan was to run across to the French coast, make Cherbourg, and then cruise to the westward, in the hope that, by so doing, we should either pick up a French homeward-bound merchantman, or succeed in recapturing one of the prizes that the French privateers occasionally captured in the Channel and generally sent into Cherbourg or Saint Malo. Should we fail in this, his next project was to cruise in the chops of the Channel for a fortnight, and then return to Weymouth to replenish our stores and water; it being hoped that by that time something definite would be known as to the prospects of war with Spain.
Our course took us close past the easternmost extremity of Portland--the highest point of the miscalled "island"; and by the time that we had drifted across the bay--for our progress could scarcely be called more than drifting--the fog had settled down so thickly that, had we not by good fortune happened to have heard two men calling to each other ashore, we should have plumped the schooner on to the rocks at the base of the cliff before seeing the land. Even as it was, it was touch and go with us; for although the helm was put hard a-starboard at the first sound of the mens' voices, we were so close in that, as the schooner swerved heavily round, we just grazed a great rock, the head of which was sticking out of the water. But we now knew pretty well where we were, and hauling well off the land, out of further danger, we shaped a course that would take us well clear of the Shambles, and so stretched away athwart the Channel.
By the time that we had hauled off the land about a mile it had fallen as dark as a wolf's mouth, with a fog so thick that, what with it and the darkness together, it was impossible to see as far as the foremast from the main rigging, while the wind had fallen so light that our canvas flapped and rustled with every heave of the schooner upon the short Channel swell; yet, by heaving the log, we found that the Dolphin was slinking through the water at the rate of close upon three knots in the hour, while she was perfectly obedient to her helm. The most profound silence prevailed fore and aft; for Captain Winter had given instructions that the bells were not to be struck, and that all orders were to be passed quietly along the deck by word of mouth. The binnacle light was also carefully masked, and the skylight obscured by a close-fitting painted canvas cover that had been made for the express purpose. There was, therefore, nothing whatever to betray our presence except the soft rustling of our canvas, and, as the same sounds would prevail on board any other craft that might happen to drift within our vicinity, we were in hopes that, by keeping our ears wide open, we might become aware of their presence before our own was betrayed. It is true that these precautions greatly increased the risk of collision with other vessels; but we trusted that the watchfulness upon which we depended for the discovery of other craft in our neighbourhood would suffice to avert any such danger.
In this way the time slowly dragged along until midnight, when I was called to take charge of the deck. Upon turning out I found that there was no improvement in the weather, except that the faint breathing from the northward had strengthened sufficiently to put our canvas to sleep, and to increase our