Vance, Louis Joseph - "The False Faces"

Various - "Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 5, No. 32, June, 1860"

James J. Walsh - "Old Time Makers of Medicine"

Various - "The Best Short Stories of 1915"

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Under Wellington\'s Command

G >> G. A. Henty >> Under Wellington\'s Command




The steering oar was lashed in its position, the sail spread over
the whole of the stern of the boat, every drop of water was baled
out and, lying down side by side, they were soon fast asleep. When
they woke the sun was high, the wind had dropped to a gentle
breeze, and the boat was rising and falling gently on the smooth
rollers.

"Hurrah!" Ryan shouted, as he stood up and looked round. "It is all
over. I vote, Terence, that we both strip and take a swim, then
spread out our clothes to dry, after which we will breakfast
comfortably and then get up sail."

"That is a very good programme, Dicky; we will carry it out, at
once."

While they were eating their meal, Ryan asked:

"Where do you suppose we are, Terence?"

"Beyond the fact that we are right out in the Bay of Biscay, I have
not the most remote idea. By the way the water went past us, I
should say that we had been going at pretty nearly the same rate as
we did when we were sailing; say, four miles an hour. We have been
running for forty-eight hours, so that we must have got nearly two
hundred miles from Santander. The question is: would it be best to
make for England, now, or for Portugal? We have been going nearly
northwest, so I should think that we are pretty nearly north of
Finisterre, which may lie a hundred and twenty miles from us; and I
suppose we are two or three times as much as that from England. The
wind is pretty nearly due east again now, so we can point her head
either way. We must be nearly in the ship course, and are likely to
be picked up, long before we make land. Which do you vote for?"

"I vote for the nearest. We may get another storm, and one of them
is quite enough. At any rate, Spain will be the shortest, by a
great deal and, if we are picked up, it is just as likely to be by
a French privateer as by an English vessel."

"I am quite of your opinion, and am anxious to be back again, as
soon as I can. If we got to England and reported ourselves, we
might be sent to the depot and not get out again, for months; so
here goes for the south."

The sail was hoisted, and the boat sped merrily along. In a couple
of hours their clothes were dry.

"I think we had better put ourselves on short rations," Terence
said. "We may be farther off than we calculate upon and, at any
rate, we had better hold on to the mouth of the Tagus, if we can;
there are sure to be some British officials there, and we shall be
able to get money, and rejoin our regiment without loss of time;
while we might have all sort of trouble with the Spaniards, were we
to land at Corunna or Vigo."

No sail appeared in sight during the day.

"I should think we cannot have come as far west as we calculated,"
Terence said, "or we ought to have seen vessels in the distance;
however, we will keep due south. It will be better to strike the
coast of Spain, and have to run along the shore round Cape
Finisterre, than to risk missing land altogether."

That night they kept regular watches. The wind was very light now,
and they were not going more than two knots an hour through the
water. Ryan was steering when morning broke.

"Wake up, Terence!" he exclaimed suddenly, "here is a ship within a
mile or so of us. As she is a lugger, I am afraid she is a French
privateer."

Terence sprang to his feet. The light was still faint, but he felt
sure that his companion was right, and that the vessel was a French
privateer.

"We have put our foot in it now, and no mistake," Ryan said. "It is
another French prison and, this time, without a friendly soldier to
help us to get out."

"It looks like it, Dicky. In another hour it will be broad
daylight, and they cannot help seeing us. Still, there is a hope
for us. We must give out that we are Spanish fishermen, who have
been blown off the coast. It is not likely they have anyone on
board that speaks Spanish, and our Portuguese will sound all right
in their ears; so very likely, after overhauling us, they will let
us go on our way. At any rate, it is of no use trying to escape; we
will hold on our course for another few minutes, and then head
suddenly towards her, as if we had only just seen her. I will hail
her in Portuguese, and they are sure to tell us to come on board;
and then I will try to make them understand by signs, and by using
a few French words, that we have been blown out to sea by the gale,
and want to know the course for Santander. As the French have been
there for some time, it would be natural enough for us to have
picked up a little of their language."

In a few minutes they altered their course and sailed towards the
lugger, which also soon turned towards them. When they approached
within the vessel's length, Terence stood up, and shouted in
Portuguese:

"What is the bearing of Santander?"

The reply was in French, "Come alongside!" given with a gesture of
the arm explaining the words. They let the sail run down as they
came alongside. Terence climbed up, by the channels, to the deck.

"Espagnol," he said to the captain, who was standing close to him
as he jumped down on to the deck; "Espagnoles, Capitaine; Poisson,
Santander; grand tempete," and he motioned with his arms to signify
that they had been blown offshore at Santander. Then he pointed in
several directions towards the south, and looked interrogatively.

"They are Spanish fishermen who have been blown off the coast," the
captain said to another officer. "They have been lucky in living it
out. Well, we are short of hands, having so many away in prizes;
and the boat will be useful, in place of the one we had smashed up
in the gale. Let a couple of men throw the nets and things
overboard, and then run her up to the davits."

Then he said to Terence: "Prisoners! Go forward and make yourself
useful;" and he pointed towards the forecastle.

Terence gave a yell of despair, threw his hat down on the deck and,
in a volley of Portuguese, begged the captain to let them go. The
latter, however, only waved his hand angrily; and two sailors,
coming up, seized Terence by the arms and dragged him forward. Ryan
was called upon deck, and also ordered forward. He too remonstrated,
but was cut short by a threatening gesture from the captain.

For a time they preserved an appearance of deep dejection, Terence
tugging his hair as if in utter despair, till Ryan whispered:

"For heaven's sake, Terence, don't go on like that, or I shall
break out in a shout of laughter."

"It is monstrous, it is inhuman!" Terence exclaimed, in Portuguese.
"Thus to seize harmless fishermen, who have so narrowly escaped
drowning; the sea is less cruel than these men. They have taken our
boat, too, our dear good boat. What will our mothers think, when we
do not return? That we have been swallowed up by the sea. How they
will watch for us, but in vain!"

Fortunately for the success of their story, the lugger hailed from
a northern French port and, as not one on board understood either
Spanish or Portuguese, they had no idea that the latter was the
language in which the prisoners were speaking. After an hour of
pretended despair, both rose from the deck on which they had been
sitting and, on an order being given to trim the sails, went to the
ropes and aided the privateersmen to haul at them and, before the
end of the day, were doing duty as regular members of the crew.

"They are active young fellows," the captain said to his first
mate, as he watched the supposed Spaniards making themselves
useful. "It was lucky for them that they had a fair store of
provisions and water in their boat. We are very short handed, and
they will be useful. I would have let them go if it had not been
for the boat but, as we have only one left that can swim, it was
too lucky a find to give up."

The craft had been heading north when Ryan had first seen her, and
she held that course all day. Terence gathered from the talk of the
sailors that they were bound for Brest, to which port she belonged.
The Frenchmen were congratulating themselves that their cruise was
so nearly over, and that it had been so successful a one. From time
to time a sailor was sent up into the cross trees, and scanned the
horizon to the north and west. In the afternoon he reported that he
could make out the upper sails of a large ship going south. The
captain went up to look at her.

"I think she is an English ship of war," he said, when he descended
to the deck, "but she is a long way off. With this light wind we
could run away from her. She will not trouble herself about us. She
would know well enough that she could not get within ten miles of
us, before it got dark."

This turned out to be the case, for the lookout from time to time
reported that the distant sail was keeping on her course, and the
slight feeling of hope that had been felt by Terence and Ryan faded
away. They were placed in the same watch, and were below when, as
daylight broke, they heard sudden exclamations, tramping of feet
overhead, and a moment later the watch was summoned on deck.

"I hope that they have had the same luck that we had, and have run
into the arms of one of our cruisers," Terence whispered in
Portuguese to Ryan, as they ran up on deck together.

As he reached the deck the boom of a cannon was heard, and at the
same instant a ball passed through the mainsail. Half a mile away
was a British sloop of war. She had evidently made out the lugger
before the watch on board the latter had seen her. The captain was
foaming with rage, and shouting orders which the crew hurried to
execute. On the deck near the foremast lay the man who had been on
the lookout, and who had been felled with a handspike by the
captain when he ran out on deck, at the first alarm. Although at
first flurried and alarmed, the crew speedily recovered themselves,
and executed with promptitude the orders which were given.

There was a haze on the water, but a light wind was stirring, and
the vessel was moving through the water at some three knots an
hour. As soon as her course had been changed, so as to bring the
wind forward of the beam, which was her best point of sailing, the
men were sent to the guns; the first mate placing himself at a long
eighteen pounder, which was mounted as a pivot gun aft, a similar
weapon being in her bows. All this took but four or five minutes,
and shot after shot from the sloop hummed overhead.

The firing now ceased, as the change of course of the lugger had
placed the sloop dead astern of her; and the latter was unable,
therefore, to fire even her bow chasers without yawing. It was now
the turn of the lugger. The gun in the stern was carefully trained
and, as it was fired, a patch of white splinters appeared in the
sloop's bulwarks. A cheer broke from the French. The effect of the
shot, which must have raked her from stem to stern, was at once
evident. The sloop bore off the wind, until her whole broadside
could be seen.

"Flat on your faces!" the captain shouted.

There was a roar of ten guns, and a storm of shot screamed
overhead. Four of them passed through the sails. One ploughed up
the deck, killing two sailors and injuring three others with the
splinters. Two or three ropes of minor importance were cut, but no
serious damage inflicted.

The crew, as they leapt to their feet, gave a cheer. They knew
that, with this light wind, their lugger could run away from the
heavier craft; and that the latter could only hope for success by
crippling her.

"Steady with the helm!" the captain went on, as the pivot gun was
again ready to deliver its fire. "Wait till her three masts show
like one.

"Jacques, aim a little bit higher. See if you cannot knock away a
spar."

The sloop was coming up again to the wind and, as she was nearly
stem on, the gun cracked out again. A cheer broke from the lugger
as her opponent's foretop mast fell over her side, with all its
hamper. Round the sloop came, and delivered the other broadside.
Two shots crashed through the bulwarks, one of them dismounting a
gun which, in its fall, crushed a man who had thrown himself down
beside it. Another shot struck the yard of the foresail, cutting it
asunder; and the lugger at once ran up into the wind.

"Lower the foresail!" the captain shouted. "Quick, men! and lash a
spare spar to the yard. They are busy cutting away their topmast,
but we shall be off again before they are ready to move. They have
lost nearly half a mile; we shall soon be out of range. Be sharp
with that gun again!"

The sloop had indeed fallen greatly astern while delivering her
broadsides; but her commander had evidently seen that, unless the
wind sprang up, the lugger would get away from him unless he could
cripple her; and that she might seriously damage him, and perhaps
knock one of the masts out of him by her stern chaser. His only
chance, therefore, of capturing her was to take a spar out of her.
He did not attempt to come about again, after firing the second
broadside; but kept up his fire as fast as his guns could be
loaded.

The lugger, however, was stealing rapidly away from him and, in ten
minutes, had increased her lead by another half mile, without
having suffered any serious damage; and the sloop soon ceased fire,
as she was now almost out of range. Seven or eight of the crew had
been more or less injured by splinters but, with the exception of
the three killed, none were badly hurt. The lugger was now put on
her former course, the guns lashed into their places again, and the
three men killed sewn up in hammocks and laid between two of the
guns, in order to be handed to their friends on arrival in port.

"That is another slip between the cup and the lip," Terence
remarked to his companion, as the sloop ceased firing. "I certainly
thought, when we came on deck, that our troubles were over. I must
say for our friend, the French captain, he showed himself a good
sailor, and got out of the scrape uncommonly well."

"A good deal too well," Ryan grumbled; "it was very unpleasant
while it lasted. It is all very well to be shot at by an enemy, but
to be shot at by one's friends is more than one bargained for."

The coolness under fire displayed by the two Spaniards he had
carried off pleased the captain, who patted them on the shoulder as
he came along, his good temper being now completely restored by his
escape.

"You are brave fellows," he said, "and will make good
privateersmen. You cannot do better than stay with us. You will
make as much money, in a month, as you would in a year's fishing."

Terence smiled vaguely, as if he understood that the captain was
pleased with them, but did not otherwise catch his meaning. They
arrived at Brest without further adventure. As they neared the
port, the captain asked Terence if he and his companion would enter
upon the books of the privateer and after much difficulty made, as
he believed, Terence understand his question. The latter affected
to consult Ryan, and then answered that they would be both willing
to do so. The captain then put the names they gave him down on the
ship's roll, and handed each of them a paper, certifying that Juan
Montes and Sebastian Peral belonged to the crew of the Belle
Jeanne, naming the rate of wages that they were to receive, and
their share in the value of the prizes taken. He then gave them
eighty francs each, as an advance on their pay from the date of
their coming on board, and signified to them that they must buy
clothes similar to those worn by the crew, instead of the heavy
fishermen's garments they had on.

"They will soon learn our language," he said to the mate, "and I am
sure they will make good sailors. I have put down their wages and
share of prize money at half that of our own men, and I am sure
they will be well worth it, when they get to speak the language and
learn their duties."

As soon as they were alongside, the greater portion of the men went
ashore and, in the evening, the boatswain landed with Terence and
Ryan, and proceeded with them to a slop shop, where he bought them
clothes similar to those worn by the crew. Beyond the fact that
these were of nautical appearance, there was no distinctive dress.
They then returned to the lugger and changed their clothes at once,
the boatswain telling them to stow away their boots and other
things, as these would be useful to them in bad weather.

The next day the privateer commenced to unload, for the most
valuable portions of the cargoes of the captured ships had been
taken on board when the vessels themselves, with the greater
portion of the goods they carried, had been sent into port under
the charge of prize crews. They remained on board for ten days,
going freely into the town, sometimes with the sailors and
sometimes alone. Terence pretended to make considerable progress in
French, and was able, though with some difficulty, to make himself
understood by the crew. The first mate had gone with them to the
mairie, where the official stamp had been affixed to their ship
papers.

They found that no questions were asked of persons entering or
leaving the town, on the land side; and twice strolled out and went
some distance into the country. They had agreed that it would be
better to defer any attempt to escape until the day before the
lugger sailed, as there would then be but little time for the
captain to make inquiries after them, or to institute a search.
They bought a pocket map of the north of France, and carefully
studied the roads.

"It is plain enough what our best course is, Dick. We must go along
this projecting point of Brittany through Dinan to Avranches, and
then follow the coast up till we get to Coutances. You see it is
nearly opposite Jersey, and that island does not look to be more
than fifteen miles away so that, if we can get hold of a boat
there, we should be able to run across in three hours or so, with
favourable wind."

"That looks easy enough," Ryan agreed. "It seems to be about one
hundred and twenty miles from here to Avranches, and another thirty
or forty up to Coutances, so we should do it in a week, easily.
What stories shall we make up, if we are questioned?"

"I don't suppose the peasants we may meet on the road are likely to
question us at all, for most of the Bretons speak only their own
language. We had better always sleep out in the open. If we do run
across an official, we can show our papers and give out that we
have been ill treated on board the lugger, and are going to Saint
Malo, where we mean to ship on another privateer. I know that is a
port from which lots of them sail. I don't think we shall have any
difficulty in buying provisions at small villages. My French will
pass muster very well in such places, and I can easily remark that
we are on our way to Saint Malo to join a ship there and, if any
village functionary questions us, these papers will be good enough
for him.

"Or we can say that we got left ashore by accident, when our craft
sailed from Brest, and are going to rejoin her at Saint Malo, where
she was going to put in. I think, perhaps, that that would be a
better story than that we had run away. I don't know that the
authorities interest themselves in runaway seamen from privateers
but, at any rate, it is a likely tale. Drunken seamen, no doubt,
often do get left ashore."

"Yes, that would be a very good story, Terence, and I think that
there would be no great fear, even if we were to go boldly into a
town."

"I don't think there would; still, it is better to be on the safe
side, and avoid all risks."

Accordingly, the afternoon before the Belle Jeanne was to sail they
went ashore, bought enough bread and cold meat to last them for a
couple of days; and two thick blankets, as it was now November and
the nights were bitterly cold; and then left the town and followed
the road for Dinan. On approaching the village of Landerneau they
left the road, and lay down until it was quite dark. Then they made
a detour through the fields, round the village, came down on the
road again, walked all night--passing through Huelgoat--and then,
as morning was breaking they left the road again and, after going a
quarter of a mile through the fields, lay down in a dry ditch by
the side of a thick hedge, ate a meal, and went to sleep.

They did not start again until it was getting dusk, when they
returned to the road, which they followed all night. In the morning
they went boldly into a little village, and Terence went into a
shop and bought a couple of loaves. His French was quite good
enough for so simple an operation.

"I suppose you are going to Saint Malo," the woman said.

"Yes. We have had a holiday to see some friends at Brest, and are
going to rejoin."

This was the only question asked and, after walking another two
miles, they lay up for the day as before. They had met several
peasants on the road, and had exchanged salutations with them. They
found by their map that they were now within twenty miles of Dinan,
having made over thirty miles each night and, as both were somewhat
footsore from their unaccustomed exercise, they travelled only some
sixteen or seventeen miles the following night.

The next evening, at about ten o'clock, they walked boldly through
Dinan. Most of the inhabitants were already asleep, and the few who
were still in the streets paid no heed to two sailors; going, they
had no doubt, to Saint Malo. Crossing the river Rance by the
bridge, they took the road in the direction of the port but, after
following it for a mile or two, struck off to the east and, before
morning, arrived on the river running up from the bay of Mount
Saint Michaels. They lay down until late in the afternoon, and then
crossed the river at a ferry, and kept along by the coast until
they reached the Sebine river.

"We are getting on first rate," Ryan said, as they lay down for a
few hours' sleep. "We have only got Avranches to pass, now."

"I hope we sha'n't be questioned at all, Dick, for we have now no
good story to tell them; for we are going away from Saint Malo,
instead of to it. Of course, as long as they don't question us we
are all right. We are simply two sailors on our way home for a
time; but if we have to show our papers, with those Spanish names
on them, we should be in a fix. Of course, we might have run away
from our ship at Saint Malo, but that would not explain our coming
up this way. However, I hope my French is good enough to answer any
casual questions without exciting attention. We will cross by the
ferry boat, as soon as it begins to ply and, as Avranches stands
some little distance up the river, we can avoid it altogether by
keeping along the coastline."

A score of peasants had assembled by the time the ferry boat man
made his appearance from his cottage, and Terence and his
companion, who had been lying down 200 yards away, joined them just
as they were going down to the boat.

"You are from Saint Malo, I suppose?" an old peasant said to
Terence.

The latter nodded.

"We have got a month's leave from our ship," he said. "She has been
knocked about by an English cruiser, and will be in the
shipwright's hands for five or six weeks, before she is ready for
sea again."

"You are not from this part of the country," the peasant, who was
speaking in the patois of Normandy, remarked.

"No, we come from the south; but one of our comrades comes from
Cherbourg and, as he cannot get away, we are going to see his
friends and tell them that he is well. It is a holiday for us, and
we may as well go there as anywhere else."

The explanation was simple enough for the peasant, and Terence
continued chatting with him until they landed.

"You do not need to go through Avranches," the latter said. "Take
the road by the coast through Granville to Coutances."

"How far is it to Coutances?"

"About twenty miles. At least, so I have heard, for I have never
been there."

After walking a few miles, they went down on to the seashore and
lay down among some rocks until evening. At eight o'clock they
started again and walked boldly through Granville, where their
sailor's dress would, they felt sure, attract no attention. It was
about nine o'clock when they entered the place. Their reason for
doing so at this hour was that they wished to lay in a stock of
provisions, as they did not intend to enter Coutances until late at
night; when they hoped to be able to get hold of a boat, at once.
They had just made their purchases when they met a fat little man,
with a red sash--which showed him to be the Maire of the place, or
some other public functionary.

"Where are you going, and what ship do you belong to?" he asked
pompously.

"We are sailors on our way from Saint Malo to Cherbourg," Terence
replied.

"You have papers, of course?"

"Of course, Monsieur le Maire."

"I must see them," the Maire said. "Come with me to my house, close
by."

There were several persons near, and a man in civil uniform was
with the Maire. Therefore Terence gave an apparently willing assent
and, followed by the functionary, they went into a house close by.
A lamp was burning on the table in the hall.

"Light these candles in my office," the Maire said. "The women have
gone up to bed."

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