The Log of a Privateersman | Page 5

was at once taken up the
harbour and moored opposite Mr White's warehouse, where the work
of rigging her and getting her guns and stores on board was forthwith
commenced. Thenceforward I was kept busy every day, assisting the
skipper and Mr Lovell in the task of fitting-out; and so diligently did
we work that by mid-day of the 26th of November the Dolphin was all
ataunto and ready for sea. And a very handsome, rakish, and
formidable craft she looked, as she lay alongside the quay, her
enormously long and delicately-tapering masts towering high above the
warehouse roof; her wide-spreading yards, extending far over the quay,
accurately squared; her standing and running rigging as taut and

straight as iron bars; her ten long nine-pounders grinning beneath her
triced-up port-lids; her brightly-polished brass long eighteen-pounder
mounted upon her forecastle; her spacious deck scraped and scoured
until it was as white as snow; and her new copper and her black
topsides gleaming and shimmering in the gently-rippling tide. Day after
day, as the work of fitting-out progressed, the quay was crowded with
people who came down to watch our operations and admire the
schooner; and so favourable was the impression she created that, had
we been in want of men, we could have secured volunteers in plenty
from among the idlers who spent day after day alongside, watching us
at work, and speculating among themselves--with their hands in their
pockets--as to the measure of success that our bold venture was likely
to meet with.
When we knocked off work at noon, to go to dinner, our work was
completed; and as Mr White had taken care to secure our letters-of-
marque in good time, it was determined that the Dolphin should
proceed to sea that same evening, the crew having already signed
articles, and been warned to hold themselves in readiness for a start at a
moment's notice. As for me, my traps were already on board, and
nicely arranged in my cabin--my sister Dora having, with her usual
tenderness of affection, insisted upon attending to this matter
herself--there was therefore nothing for me to do but to go home, say
good-bye, and rejoin the ship. This ceremony I had always found to be
a most painful business; but it was especially so in the present case; for
I was not only once more about to brave the ordinary perils incidental
to a sailor's life, but was, in addition, to be exposed to the still greater
hazards involved in battle with the enemy. Poor Dora and my aunt were
but too well aware, from the experience of others in the last war, what
these hazards were; they knew how many men had gone out from their
homes, hale, strong, and full of enthusiasm, either to find death in their
first engagement, or to be brought back, sooner or later, maimed,
helpless, and physically ruined for the remainder of their lives; and, as
tender, loving women will, they anticipated one or another of these
evils for me, and were therefore distressed beyond all hope of comfort.
Nor could I shut my eyes to the possibility that their forebodings might
come true, and that I might therefore be looking upon their dear faces

for the last time. To bid them farewell, therefore, and tear myself from
their clinging arms was a most painful business; and it was not until I
had returned to the Dolphin, and was busying myself about the final
preparations for our departure, that I was able in some degree to
recover my equanimity and get rid of the troublesome lump that would
keep rising in my throat.
CHAPTER TWO.
A FOGGY NIGHT IN THE CHANNEL.
The town clock was striking four when, the muster roll having been
called and all hands being found to be on board, we cast off the shore-
fasts and, under the influence of a light, keen, frosty air from the
northward, went gliding down the harbour under mainsail and
flying-jib, fully two hundred people following us along the quay and
cheering us as we went. The Dolphin was the first privateer that
Weymouth had fitted out since the last declaration of war, and the
enthusiasm was intense; for, in addition to the foregoing circumstance,
she was the largest, most powerful, and most heavily-manned privateer
that had ever sailed out of the port; our full complement numbering no
less than ninety, all told, including a surgeon, every one of whom was
either a Weymouth or a Portland man; consequently there were plenty
of friends and relatives to see us start and bid us God-speed.
Upon clearing the harbour all sail was at once made upon the schooner,
our object being, of course, to reach the open channel as quickly as
possible--when we might hope to fall athwart