It is true that Mr. Thomas Bowling was engaged to be married to Mary Rose, youngest daughter of Admiral Sir Taffrail Stormer, G.C.B. That may be why he renamed the Valdivia the Mary Rose, but, on the other hand, it may not; for, for nearly four hundred years, Mary Rose has been a good old ship-name in the Royal Navy of England, and it is a name as historically venerable as Dragon or Lion, and more so than Royal Sovereign, Antelope, Unicorn, Falcon, Phœnix, Triumph, or Victory. A Mary Rose, of 600 tons, capsized during the action with the French at Spithead in 1545, and from fifty years before that time until the close of the last century, there was nearly always a Mary Rose in the Navy List. Moreover, when she figured there, she generally figured there to some effect.

One thing, however, is certain. Sir Taffrail, accompanied by his daughter, ran down to Newcastle while the ship was preparing for sea, and lunched with Bowling in his half-fitted cabin; and there being on the luncheon table an unopened bottle of champagne, Bowling carried it on to the forecastle, and persuaded Miss Stormer to fling it against the gilt scroll-work on the cruiser’s bows, and to say: “I re-christen you Mary Rose.” All of which she did very prettily, and with many smiles and some blushes.

That was on Wednesday, May 6th, the day preceding the night on which torpedo boat No. 18 made the unsuccessful attempt to get out of Gibraltar and attack the French Fleet. All that day and all the following night the Elswick people worked like bees on board; and next morning Bowling, who had scarcely taken off his clothes, or even slept, for four days, was able to telegraph to London, “I shall be ready to sail this evening.” Later in the day he had the satisfaction of receiving a private dispatch from Sir Humphrey Thornbeigh. In the meantime, the ship took on board her shell and her ammunition, including, for all weapons, cordite as well as ordinary powder.

Bowling had succeeded in collecting a much better ship’s company than he had dared to hope for. Germany and America, and, indeed, nearly all countries, had issued formal proclamations of neutrality, but these did not prevent a certain number of excellent German and American seamen from shipping with him; and some of each nationality had, he was delighted to find, served in their own navies, and, if not quite up to his standard of what bluejackets should be, knew what man-of-war discipline was, and had a certain acquaintance with modern guns and modern conditions. He obtained most of his engine-room staff with much less difficulty than he had anticipated. The slower merchant steamers, harassed by the numerous fast cruisers which the French Government chartered, armed, and sent to sea immediately after the outbreak of war, had already begun to lie up, and, although the Admiralty took over many of their engineers and stokers, Bowling managed, with the assistance of agents at Hull, Glasgow, and Liverpool, to engage all he wanted, and even to pick and choose a little. His chief engineer, a rugged Scot named Macpherson, had volunteered into one of the Congressional ships during the Civil War of 1891 in Chili, and had then, on more than one occasion, evinced his complete coolness and his fulness of resource. He came, surrounded by a legend, which he professed to laugh at as utterly baseless, that once, when a shell burst in his engine-room, causing a frightful outburst of steam, he ordered all his juniors away, went in alone, shut off everything, and was found so badly burnt as to have his life despaired of: but the frightful white scars with which his hands and face were nearly covered lent probability to the story, and helped to inspire a confidence, which, it may be said at once, was never misplaced.

Bowling saw no necessity for cutting loose from all the traditions in which he had been brought up. He therefore assumed for himself the title of captain, and gave his executive officers the title of lieutenant. The Mary Rose’s staff, when completed, and set down as it would have been had the cruiser been one of Her Majesty’s ships in the Navy List, was:—Captain, Thomas Bowling (late R.N.); lieutenant, John K. Maintruck, R.N. (retired); lieutenant (N), Benjamin Binnacle, R.N. (retired); lieutenant (G), Henry B. Tompion, R.N. (retired); lieutenant (T), James Water Tripper (late R.N.); lieutenant, Frederick Day; lieutenant, William Salthorse, R.N. (retired); surgeon, Arthur Rhubarb, M.D.; paymaster, Noah Nipcheese, R.N. (retired); chief engineer, Alexander Macpherson; sub-lieutenant, Henry Echo (late R.N.A.V.); gunner, George Prism Brown (late R.N.); boatswain, Benedict Tiller (late R.N.); carpenter, Michael Plane.

There were also, of course, subordinate engineer officers, and there were three young gentlemen, Messrs. Williams, Roberts, and Harris, who had been senior cadets in the Worcester or the Conway, and who, at the urgent request of their parents, who were retired naval officers without interest, were permitted to join the Mary Rose as midshipmen. Each of these had had a little experience at sea in a merchant ship.

Mr. Maintruck was an admirable all round officer, whose only service fault was that he had no influential friends. He had seen service in all parts of the world, and after having been twenty-two years a lieutenant, had been obliged, on the score of age, to retire. Like several of his fellow lieutenants, he insisted upon sinking his seniority in favour of Bowling. He was a somewhat old-fashioned man in his notions, and, in common with Mr. Salthorse, who was very little his junior, he affected greatly to regret the days of masts and sails, and to think that modern naval officers were very indifferent seamen. With these supposed opinions of the two old lieutenants Mr. Binnacle agreed. They were really his opinions, though not really theirs. He fervently believed that seamanship and navigation, save in so far as they were preserved in his own person, were nearly lost arts. They merely grumbled as a matter of principle, and in their hearts—although they would never admit it—were staunch admirers of what is called “new navy.” Mr. Tompion and Mr. Tripper were thorough-going scientific officers of the modern school. Tompion had fallen in love, and retired in order to marry; but, having retired, had almost immediately lost his inamorata, who had faithlessly married a subaltern in the Buffs. This blow, while it had soured Tompion so far as the whole fair sex was concerned, had rendered him more than ever devoted to his lost profession; and he had therefore seized with avidity the opportunity of going afloat again. Tripper had, in a moment of disgust, retired in order to become manager to a firm which promised, in its prospectus, to provide the world with a torpedo of a new and subtle dirigible type; but the company having collapsed before its torpedo had been adopted by any government, Tripper had found himself thrown without occupation upon his own resources. The Admiralty, annoyed at losing him, had insisted upon his returning his commission, and had thus surrendered all claim upon his services. Otherwise, no doubt, their Lordships would have been glad enough to get back so good a torpedo officer.

Mr. Day, barrister-at-law, has already been introduced to the reader as a determined amateur yachtsman. Salthorse declared that he would not join the Mary Rose at all unless he was allowed to join as junior lieutenant; for he urged that he had not been to sea for many years, and, in the quasi-retirement of a coast-guard billet, had grown very rusty. Thus it was that he ranked junior even to Day; although in his time he had been first lieutenant of an ironclad in the Channel, and of a guardship in one of the Scottish ports, and had commanded a gunboat on the West Coast. His modesty met its reward in the respect with which he was regarded by everyone on board.

Dr. Rhubarb was a civilian, young and enthusiastic, and a clever surgeon as well as a learned physician. He threw up a rapidly-growing London practice in order to accompany Bowling; and, as he was a bachelor, no one had a right to prevent him. Mr. Nipcheese, the oldest officer in the ship, was a gentleman who sincerely believed that the bone and marrow of the Royal Navy was represented by the accountant branch of the service, and this being his opinion, he was, of course, although retired, a very superior person in his own estimation, and invariably behaved himself as such, except, on occasions, after dinner, when, if he had been able to lay hands on any Madeira, he would sleep in the ward-room with his feet on the stove, and by turns snore and mumble incoherencies, some of which sounded suspiciously like blasphemies, aimed, however, at nobody and nothing in particular. He would sometimes, when awake, unbend sufficiently to listen to a good story, and even to smile at it in a superior kind of way; but he was never known to tell one. Mr. Echo, by profession a barrister, was a keen officer of a type which was by no means uncommon in the unfortunate Royal Naval Artillery Volunteers. He was an enthusiastic all-round yachtsman, and had, moreover, devoted full attention to gunnery work. Ever since the disbandment of his corps he had continued to keep himself au courant with naval matters, in hope that some day the R.N.A.V. would be re-established. He was fully equal to a lieutenant’s duties, he was smart and tireless, he volunteered to do any work for which a volunteer was required, and his good nature and ingenuous character rendered him a general favourite. Of Mr. Brown and Mr. Tiller it need only be said that they were pensioned warrant officers, barely over fifty, and as good as the Navy has ever produced. As for Mr. Plane, he had been carpenter in a crack Cunarder, and belonged to the Royal Naval Reserve.

Thursday, May 7th, when the Mary Rose sailed, was a great day on the Tyne. Sir Taffrail Stormer and his daughter lunched on board again, and remained by the ship until she had dropped down to the Narrows, below North Shields, where they were put on board one of the several tugs and steamers that had come out to bid the cruiser good-bye. As they went over the side, Tompion, who was on the bridge, heaved a sigh of relief.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” said Echo.

“Oh! I didn’t say anything,” answered the gunnery lieutenant; “I was only pleased to see the last of that little petticoat. I was half afraid that the skipper wouldn’t be able to cast off from it. Thank heaven! That’s gone! A ship is never a ship while there’s a petticoat on board.”

Bowling was shaking hands with the Admiral at the starboard gangway. “And look here, Bowling,” said Sir Taffrail, “if, with a ship like this under you, you don’t come back a bigger man than you sail, I shall think that the Admiralty dealt with you as you deserved. And remember, she shan’t marry a man who’s not in the service. My father was in the service and my grandfather. I’m in the service, and my son-in-law is to be in the service, and I’ll have my grandsons in the service if I live to have a word to say to their mother. God bless you, my boy.” And the Admiral, very red in the face, went over the side after his daughter, sat down in the sternsheets of the boat which was to carry him to the tug, took the tiller-lines, swore at the crew, just as if Miss Stormer had been a hundred miles away, and, when he thought he was unobserved, brushed a tear from his eye, and muttered, “God bless him!” in so loud and angry a tone that the men at the oars thought that the objurgations had begun anew, and pulled as if his Satanic Majesty himself was coxing them. Mary Rose, who had stood up to wave her handkerchief to Bowling, was capsized by the suddenly-increased impetus of the boat, and fell upon her father’s knees, whereupon the Admiral picked her up very tenderly, placed her at his side, and frowned around him as if to say: “Who dares to tell me that the daughter of Sir Taffrail Stormer, G.C.B., can’t stand up in a boat and wave a handkerchief? If there be any such person, let me get at him.”

It is therefore fortunate that he did not hear Tompion’s ungallant exclamation to Echo: “There, didn’t I tell you so? Serves her right, poor little beggar, for not having stayed on shore.”

Bowling ran up to the bridge as soon as his friends were fairly away. In the pleasure of having so fine a ship as the Mary Rose under his command, he forgot alike the disappointment of his removal from the Navy, the personal sacrifices which he had made, the terribly hard work of the past week, and the pain of parting with the girl he loved. He felt that untold possibilities were within his grasp; he believed that, while he might render his country splendid services, he might also reinstate himself. And it was in the highest spirits that he took command, ordered full speed ahead, and steamed out against the salt breeze of the North Sea—the first English privateer to leave a British port in the service of Sovereign and country for many a long year. But he was not only in the service of Sovereign and country; he was in the service also of himself and his fellow-owners of the Mary Rose, and it was his business as much to make prizes from as to do damage to the foe. He was, moreover, to some extent in the service of Sir Humphrey Thornbeigh personally; for, but for Sir Humphrey, the ship could not have been officered as she was. Bowling was beginning to congratulate himself that, though he was serving so many interests, he was still mainly his own master—when he recollected that, enclosed with Sir Humphrey’s dispatch of that day, there was a sealed envelope marked, “To be opened only after you have left port. Private and confidential. On Her Majesty’s service.”

He took the dispatch from his pocket, and, pulling out the envelope, opened it. Within were a letter and another envelope, the latter being addressed to the Admiral-Superintendent, Malta Dockyard. Bowling read the letter, which ran:—

“My dear Bowling,—I haven’t the least idea where you are going to cruise or what you propose to attempt, and it is not my business to inquire; but if you find yourself in the Mediterranean, and will deliver this, you may render the country and yourself a considerable service. Of course I am taking other measures to get the letter, a copy of which I enclose, delivered at Malta; but the enemy seems to be holding the Strait pretty closely, and my messengers may not get through, while you may. I don’t advise you one way or another. You have duties to yourself and to your owners. But the Mediterranean used to be a fine privateer’s cruising ground, and may be so still, and there’s honour to be gained there. You have all my good wishes, and I suspect you will not disappoint them. But, again I say, remember your duties to your owners and yourself, and don’t be influenced by your sincere friend,—H. T.”

Bowling whistled and gazed up speculatively at the foretop, over which peeped the covered muzzle of a gun. “He wants me to go to Malta,” thought he, “and yet he doesn’t want to formally advise me to do so. I should surely pick up more prizes in the Channel. But Uncle Humphrey has something in the wind, and, if I don’t take his suggestions, I feel that I shall be a fool. He’s not the man to throw out these hints without an object; nor is he the man to mislead me. He has helped me, so, by Jove, if I can possibly see my way to it, I’ll help him. But how we shall get into the Mediterranean, heaven only knows!”

He thrust the papers back into his pocket, and looking round and seeing that the ship had by this time steamed well clear of the river’s mouth, he ordered the course to be altered eight points to starboard.

It was nearly three bells, and the sun was setting over the land in a blinding blaze of golden splendour. The sea was perfectly smooth; such light breeze as there was came from the north-west, and the ship came round so gently and sped southward so quietly that it was difficult to believe that she was making even the 10 knots which the captain had ordered.

“Running at this speed, when shall we be off Dover, Mr. Binnacle?” asked Bowling of the second lieutenant, who stood by his side.

Mr. Binnacle went into the chart-house, set to work with his ruler and dividers, and in half a minute came out again, touching his cap, with the reply, “At about three o’clock to-morrow afternoon, sir.”

“Thank you; very good. Messenger, run down and ask the chief engineer to be so good as to speak to me.”

A boy who was in waiting sprang down the ladder, and very speedily Mr. Macpherson came upon the bridge.

“She runs very easily,” said Bowling. “We will keep her at ten knots for the present. But I should like steam, if you please, for seventeen knots at eleven o’clock to-morrow morning, and after that time you must be prepared, until further orders, to use forced draught, if necessary, while we are running down the Channel. Is everything going well below?”

“Couldn’t go better, sir,” said the chief. “I never had better engines.”

“Very good, Mr. Macpherson; I won’t try them more than I can help. Thank you.”

“We must make shift to get the men smart with the guns, Mr. Maintruck,” said Bowling. “They must be practised at general quarters as much as possible, and I shall go to night quarters to-night, though you needn’t let anyone know it. I don’t want to tire out the crew, and I hope they will understand that; but we are all rather fresh to our work, and we have no time to waste. Who knows whether we shan’t have to fight an action to-morrow? So we must lose no opportunities. Perhaps you will be so good as to speak to Mr. Tompion on the subject. For the present I don’t see how we can manage to run any torpedoes; but you may tell Mr. Tripper that I shall bear him in mind, and give him a chance when I can.”

Mr. Tompion needed no inciting to duty. Assisted by the gunner, he had long since made out his quarter bill, and had already exercised his men at the guns, though, of course, he had not yet been able to fire, except on the morning of the 5th, when the ship had been out to test her gun-mountings. In all departments the regular sea-routine of a man-of-war was observed, and it was astonishing with how little friction the men fell into their places, and how rapidly things settled down. From the first the ship was kept partially cleared for action, and the guns were always loaded; but, as all the guns were on the upper-deck, where there was but little protection from the weather, Bowling did not think it necessary to make the men sleep at their quarters. That night, at half-past eleven, he went up on to the bridge and ordered the ship to general quarters, and when less than four and a half minutes later everything was reported ready, he felt that he had with him the material for an extraordinarily smart ship’s company, and that it would be very bad policy on his part either to unnecessarily expose, or to unnecessarily weary, a very willing crew.

There were no further alarms during the night. The sun rose at about twenty minutes past four, but already Mr. Maintruck was busy on deck; and all the morning, with but rare intervals, drills of one kind or another were going on. At ten, Bowling ordered targets to be dropped, and then exercised his guns’ crews for an hour at firing at a mark. The practice, especially with the 4·7-in. guns, was much better than could fairly be expected, but naturally it was not very brilliant. In all directions, however, there were signs of improvement, and as officers and men alike were exceedingly keen, the captain was more than satisfied. Soon after three in the afternoon, the speed having already for some hours been increased to nearly 17 knots, the ship was off Dover, and exchanged signals with the shore. Bowling altered course very little, and headed diagonally across the Strait, making for the direction of Havre, so that by ten o’clock at night he was off the mouth of the Seine. Many craft of all kinds were sighted in the Channel, but very little attention was paid to them. They were chiefly British and German vessels, and the captain’s immediate idea was to leave as quickly as possible those waters, in which he could not expect to encounter something well worth the trouble of capturing. Both Mr. Echo and the carpenter knew almost every steamer that traversed the Atlantic. Bowling therefore ordered them to keep watch and watch on the bridge that night, and having altered course to the westward, reduced his speed to 10 knots, and began to look out for a homeward-bound French liner.

The French Government, with marvellous promptitude, had issued as early as April 30th a code of private signals, copies of which had been given to all outward-bound vessels leaving French ports on and after that date. Captains were directed to communicate with all French ships which they might meet at sea, apprise them of the outbreak of war, and deliver to them a copy of the signals. They were directed also to sink or destroy the signal-books in the event of their capture being probable; and, as the adoption of these measures had been reported in England several days before the sailing of the Mary Rose, Bowling felt pretty confident that, although hostilities were less than a fortnight old, he would have to depend, not upon ruse, but upon speed and force, for any prize which he might be so fortunate to make. While, therefore, reducing his speed to ten knots, he still kept steam for seventeen.

Day and Echo relieved Salthorse and the carpenter at midnight. There was a clear moon, and the sea was still smooth. The dark mass of Cape La Hogue was visible to the south-west, and behind it Alderney was just opening out, like a black cloud upon a field of silver.

Day took his station on the bridge; Echo, glass in hand, climbed into the foretop, and had not been there more than a quarter of an hour when he hailed Day with the information that he had sighted three sail in company, at a distance of about eight miles on the port bow, coming up Channel, one, at least, being evidently a big passenger vessel.

Day went into the chart-house and roused the captain, who was sleeping there as best he could, coiled up on some bunting and coats in a corner. Bowling was upon his legs and wide awake in a moment, and, in half a minute more, was in the top by Echo’s side. He had no difficulty in perceiving the strangers, though he could not make out what they were.

“One of them looks uncommonly like the Normandie of the Compagnie Générale Transatlantique, sir,” ventured Echo.

“And one is a man-of-war, if I’m not mistaken,” added the captain; “and not one of ours either. Keep your eyes open, Mr. Echo, and report all their movements.” And Bowling scrambled down again, and mounted to the top of the chart-house, where he was not too far removed from the bridge to be able to give his orders. No sooner was he there than he directed the crew to be sounded off to quarters. Almost at the same moment two rockets went up from the centre ship of the three, and glittered for a second against the dark blue of the sky. This was clearly a private night-signal, for several lights were also shown, and then suddenly extinguished.

“Full speed, if you please, Mr. Day,” shouted Bowling, keeping his glass on the strangers, “and keep her a point nearer in.” Day gave the necessary directions to the engine-room and to the quartermaster at the wheel, but, by that time, Mr. Maintruck and Mr. Binnacle, both looking very sleepy, were on the bridge, and he was free to go to his station at the quick-firing guns aft.

The strangers, who had clearly been making for Havre, altered course a little when their signal was not answered, and seemed to be about to attempt to get into Cherbourg; but, as Cherbourg was already broad on the port beam of the Mary Rose, they soon recognised this as hopeless, and, rounding Alderney, headed southward for St. Malo or Cancale Bay. The one which looked like the Normandie took station ahead, and the one which looked like a man-of-war took station astern, the three vessels thus steaming in column. In ten minutes’ time they were shut out from view by the land, but already it was plain that the Mary Rose was rapidly gaining on them.

The three ships were, in fact, the Normandie, 6217 tons, homeward-bound from New York; the Paraguay, 3450 tons, homeward-bound from South America, and owned by the Chargeurs Réunis; and the cruiser Duguay-Trouin, of the French navy. The cruiser, detached from the Division Legère de l’Atlantique, had been sent to the mouth of the Channel to look out for homeward-bound ships, and to see them safely into port, and, having fallen in with the Normandie and Paraguay almost simultaneously off Ushant on the previous afternoon, was convoying them at the speed of thirteen knots—all that the Paraguay could manage—to Havre, which was their normal destination.

In an hour the privateer rounded the cape, and enjoyed once more a view of the chase. At half-past two the Mary Rose was off Cap de Flamanville, and was well within gunshot of the cruiser, which still kept station at the rear of the column.

“She has a lot of guns, sir,” said Tompion, who, for a few minutes, had been consulting a book by the light of the binnacle lantern. “There are five 6·4-in. and five 5·4-in., besides four quick-firers, and five revolving cannon; and she has a couple of torpedo tubes stowed somewhere.”

“I’m glad that you know so much about her. Probably she can’t make head or tail of us. If she be really the Duguay-Trouin, as you make out, I ought to know something about her myself, for I lunched on board her some years ago at Brest. She’s an iron ship, with no protection whatever, and we could blow her out of the water. Now, I’m going to pass her, Mr. Tompion; and if she doesn’t fire at me, I shan’t fire at her. I want the other ships first.”

But the gallant Frenchman had determined to make an effort to save his charges. Just then the Duguay-Trouin yawed a little, and, at about two thousand yards, fired as much of her port broadside as would bear at the Mary Rose. No projectile struck, but the spray from more than one splashed across the privateer’s deck.

“Give her the bow 9·4-in. gun, Mr. Tompion,” said Bowling. “I don’t want to sink her; but perhaps you can disable her screw or steering gear. Don’t fire, however, until we are a little closer to her. Let the men lie down, Mr. Maintruck. And, by the way, Mr. Tompion, please keep the starboard midship gun trained on her as we come up on her quarter.”

Again the Duguay-Trouin yawed to port, and delivered her broadside. A storm of projectiles shrieked past the Mary Rose’s bridge; a few splinters flew from the wood-work of the chart-house; and a shell burst harmlessly against the base of the sponson of the starboard barbette. Had the officers remained on the bridge, some of them would doubtless have been hit, but, at the first sign of the enemy’s yawing, Bowling had made them take shelter behind the conning tower.

The privateer was now coming up so rapidly that the Frenchman dared not again yaw to port for fear of being rammed; but he began to circle round to starboard, so as to bring his starboard broadside to bear; whereupon Bowling ordered the two big barbette guns, of which he had already spoken, to be fired. They were discharged almost simultaneously at the cruiser’s stern; and, when the smoke had cleared away, it was evident that at least one of them had spoken with effect, for the enemy’s mizzen topmast was seen to have toppled over her starboard quarter, and to be hanging with all its hamper in such a position that, as the cruiser continued to circle, it must infallibly foul her screw. And this is indeed what happened a minute later.

But the Duguay-Trouin, though temporarily disabled, did not cease to fire as the privateer passed under her stern, and beyond her, in hot chase of the convoy.

“Leave her alone for the present,” said Bowling; “I intend to pass the next ship, and stop the leading one. Don’t use the big guns again without orders. We can tackle these gentlemen with the small quick-firers and machine guns.”

The Paraguay, the centre ship, was easily overhauled and passed; but the Normandie, having increased her speed to 15 knots, was not so easily come up with, and she was off St. Catherine’s Bay, Jersey, ere the Mary Rose ran alongside her and hailed her to strike. She of course had no alternative; and Bowling, having hastily lowered a couple of boats and put Mr. Williams, an assistant engineer, and five-and-twenty well-armed men on board of her, returned to look after the other ships. The Paraguay, immediately after having been passed, had altered her course sixteen points and fled again to the northward. The Duguay-Trouin had made sail, but the wind being light she had scarcely moved, and before daybreak the privateer was once more within shot of her. Bowling fired a gun across her bows, whereupon she replied with a broadside, which did a little damage and wounded three men; but a couple of well-aimed rounds, at 750 yards, from the privateer’s 9·4-in. guns, brought the French captain to his senses; and at a quarter-past four, being on fire and having thirty men killed or wounded by the bursting of a shell in his battery, he surrendered. Lieutenant Tripper and fifty men went on board and took possession; 150 of the cruiser’s crew were for safety’s sake removed into the Mary Rose, and the Paraguay having got into Cherbourg and given the alarm, Bowling and his two prizes made the best of their way to Plymouth, where they dropped anchor soon after noon on Saturday, May 9th.