Chapter Five.
The “Silver Star.”
A busy fortnight followed, during which Jack Meadows accompanied his father and the doctor up to town pretty well every day, to visit tailors, hatters, hosiers, gunsmiths, fishing-tackle-makers, naturalists, provision dealers, and help to spend money at a liberal rate upon the many necessaries for a long voyage. To do the lad justice, he tried hard to hide his distaste for all that was being done, and assumed an interest in the various purchases, making Sir John appear pleased, while Doctor Instow patted his shoulder, and told him that he looked brighter already. But when alone at night his depression came back, and there were moments when, tired out, he told himself that he could not bear it all, and that he must tell his father the next morning that it was impossible—he could not go.
But when the morning; came he said nothing, for on rising the matter did not look so black and gloomy by daylight, after a night’s rest; and he felt that it would be too cowardly to make such a declaration, when his father was doing everything and going to so great an expense entirely for his sake.
“Because he thinks me weak and ill,” he said to himself; “and nothing will persuade him that I am not.”
That very morning, after a good sound night’s rest, the boy woke with the sun shining brightly into his bedroom, and he got up thinking he had over-slept himself, but on looking round he found that his hot-water can had not been brought in, nor his freshly-brushed boots and clothes, so he rang impatiently.
“Disgraceful!” he said peevishly. “Ned thinks of nothing now but the voyage, and everything is neglected.”
But all the same his bell was not neglected, for in a very short time there was a sharp tap at the door, and as the lad stood by his bedside in his dressing-gown, the white top of a pith helmet appeared slowly, followed by the lower part of a grinning face, a dark-brownish coarse canvas jacket, or rather a number of pockets stuck one above another, and attached to a pair of canvas sleeves; and next, a pair of leather breeches, ditto leggings, and to support all a very stout pair of lace-up boots.
As soon as all were inside the door, a familiar voice said—
“Morning sir. You are early.”
“Early!” cried Jack angrily; “what do you mean by early?”
“Ten past six, sir.”
“Nonsense! it must be nearly eight.”
“Then all the clocks are wrong, sir, including my larum-scarum, for I set it for half-past five, so as to be up early and try ’em on.”
“And what do you mean by coming here dressed up in that Guy Fawkes fashion?”
“Guy Fawkes! Oh, I say, Master Jack, don’t be hard on a fellow.”
“You look ridiculous.”
“I say, sir! Why, they fit lovely, all but this pith helmet, as is two sizes too large, and reg’larly puts one out. These came home late last night. Just the thing, ain’t they?”
“Go down and take them off, and bring me my hot water, and clothes and boots.”
“Why, they ain’t cleaned yet, sir, and the kitchen fire ain’t alight. There’s no hot water neither. You don’t mean to get up now?”
Jack looked undecided, and ended by getting back into bed.
“I thought it was late,” he said, in a somewhat apologetic tone.
“Not it, sir—extra early, sir. I say, Master Jack, this is a topper, isn’t it?” said the man, taking off the helmet. “A’most do for an umbrella in a big shower.”
“Preposterous!”
“Think so, sir. Oh, I don’t know what sort o’ thing people wear in hot climates. But I have got a rig-out, sir, and a waterproof bag, a bullock trunk, and I dunno what all—most as many things as you have.”
“Don’t bother me about your things: go down, if it’s so early, and come back and call me at the proper time.”
“Yes, sir; cert’nly, sir,” said the man, stealing a glance at himself in the looking-glass, and then standing examining his pith helmet as he held it upon his outstretched hand.
“Well, then, why don’t you go?” cried Jack. “I was a-thinking, sir. I say, as you are awake, and there’s plenty of time, why don’t you try on some of your noo things?”
“Bah! because I don’t want to make myself ridiculous,” said the lad peevishly.
“You wouldn’t look ridiculous, sir. You try ’em, and if I was you I’d go down to breakfast in ’em. Sir John would be as pleased as Punch to see you begin to take a little more interest in going.”
“Look here!” cried Jack, springing from his pillow to sit upright in bed, “when I want any of your advice, sir, I will ask for it. Such impertinence!”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, sir, but I only thought you might like to do what Sir John would wish to see. I put ’em all straight last night, and laid a suit of tweeds, with knickerbockers, brown plaid worsted stockings, and high-laced brown shooting-boots, all ready for you.”
“Then it was like your insolence, sir.”
“Yes, sir, and the boots are lovely, sir; just the thing! Stout strong water-tights as lace on right to the knee. Leather’s as soft as velvet. They’ll be grand for you when you’re going through the jungle where there’s leeches and poisonous snakes.”
“Ugh!” ejaculated the boy with a shudder.
“Oh, you needn’t mind them, sir; I’ve been reading all about ’em in the Natural History Sir John’s lent me. They always run away from you when they can.”
“And when they cannot they bite venomously,” cried Jack.
“That’s it, sir,” said Edward, “if they can.”
“And they can,” said Jack.
“If you don’t kill ’em first,” said the man, laughing, “and that’s the proper thing to do. Kill everything that wants to kill you. Don’t want me then yet, sir?”
“Only to go,” said Jack, throwing himself down again and drawing up the coverings close to his ear.
“Yes, sir; I’ll be back again at half-past seven.”
Jack made no reply, and the man went off laughing to himself.
“He’s getting stirred up,” he said. “I never saw him take so much notice before.”
Jack lay perfectly still for another hour, apparently asleep, but really thinking very deeply of his position, and of how hard it seemed to be that he should be obliged to give up his calm quiet life among his books to go upon a journey which, the more he thought of it, seemed to grow darker and more repellent.
He was still thinking and wishing that he could find some way to escape when Edward came into the room again, bearing clothes, boots, and hot-water can.
“Half-past seven, sir,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“Very fine morning, sir,” continued the man, arranging the things for his young master’s toilet, but there was no response.
“Looks as if it was going to be settled weather, sir.”
Still no response.
“Just been to Sir John, sir, and he says that he forgot to tell me Doctor Instow would be over to breakfast.”
Jack did not move, and Edward went close to the bedside.
“Beg pardon, sir,” he said loudly; “it’s more than half-past seven.”
“Will you go away, and not pester me,” cried Jack, turning upon him fiercely.
“Yes, sir; certainly, sir; beg pardon, sir, but you said I was never to leave you till you were regularly woke up.”
Jack said something inarticulate, and Edward went out once more grinning.
“My word!” he muttered; “he is coming round.”
“I don’t get a bit of peace,” cried the boy peevishly, and he sprang out of bed, washed in hot water, shivered as he dried himself, and then turned to begin dressing, and paused.
Which way should he go?
On two chairs a yard apart lay his clothes: on the left his things he had worn the previous day; on his right, a suit specially made for the life ashore that they were to live abroad; and after a little hesitation he began to dress in that, finding everything feel strange, but certainly very comfortable, and at last he stood there in garments very much like those in which the man had come in, and he looked at himself in the glass.
Nothing could have been more comfortable and suitable, as he was fain to confess; but all the same the inclination was strong to take them off. He resisted, however, and in due time went down, feeling strange and half ashamed of being seen.
Sir John was in the breakfast-room, and he looked up from his newspaper rather severely, but as soon as he caught sight of his son’s altered appearance, the paper dropped from his hands and he rose quickly.
“Thank you, Jack,” he said warmly. “You did this to please me, and I am more than pleased. It shows me that you are trying to make the brave fight I expect of you, as my son should. Hah! you will see the truth of it all before long.”
He would have said more, but the doctor was heard in the hall, and directly after he entered in his bluff fashion.
“Morning, morning,” he cried; “splendid day for our trip. Why, bravo, Jack! The very thing. Your get-up is splendid, my lad, and it makes me impatient to be off. You are going with us of course?”
“I suppose so,” said Jack with a sigh.
“I don’t mean on our trip, but to see the vessel.”
That sounded to the boy like a temporary reprieve, and he looked inquiringly at the doctor.
“I had not said anything about it to him,” said Sir John. “We have had particulars from my agent of a large ocean-going steam yacht, my boy, which sounds well. It is really a sailing vessel, but fitted with a screw for occasional use in calm or storm. She is lying at Dartmouth, and we are going down to see her to-day. Will you come?”
“Do you wish me to come, father?” said Jack.
“Of course I do, but what I do wish is to see you take an interest in all our preparations.”
“I am trying to, father.”
“Yes, and succeeding,” said the doctor, “or you would not have come out like you are this morning.”
“How soon do you start?” said Jack hurriedly, to escape the doctor’s allusions to his dress.
“In half-an-hour. We have to get up to town, and then go across to Paddington.”
“I’ll hurry through my breakfast then, and go and change my things.”
“What for?” cried the doctor. “You couldn’t be better.”
“But I should look so absurd, sir, dressed like this.”
“Absurd?”
“The absurdity is only in your imagination, my boy,” said Sir John. “Go as you are.”
Jack looked troubled, but he said nothing, for he was making a brave fight to master his antipathy to his father’s projects, and without another word he went on with his breakfast, receiving the next time he caught his father’s eye a nod of approval which meant a good deal.
But the pith helmet was a severe trial just before the carriage came to the door, and he stood in the hall with the round-topped head-piece standing on the table, for it would recall Edward’s extinguisher, and his own remark that morning concerning the Guido-Fawkes-like aspect of their man.
“Don’t seem to like your topper, Jack, lad,” said the doctor, smiling.
“Well, who could?” cried the boy sharply. “It looks so absurd.”
“Because you are not used to it, and will probably not see any one else wearing one. Now for my part, I think it the very reverse of absurd, and a thoroughly sensible head-piece, light, well ventilated, and cool, a good protection from the sun, and thoroughly comfortable.”
“What, that thing?”
“Yes, that thing. It is a hot sunny day, and we shall be out of doors a good deal when we get into Devonshire, so it is most suitable. Now between ourselves, what would you have worn if left to yourself?”
“My black frock-coat and bat,” said Jack quickly.
“Nice costume for a railway journey. Orchid in your button-hole of course, and a pair of straw-coloured kid gloves, I suppose? I have observed that those are your favourite colour.”
Jack nodded.
“Bah! Try and be a little more manly, my lad,” said the doctor kindly. “A healthy young fellow does not want to be so self-conscious, and to dress himself up so as to look pretty and be admired—or laughed at.”
“I’m more likely to be laughed at dressed like this, and with a thing like half an egg-shell on my head.”
“Fools will laugh at anything,” said the doctor dryly; “but no one whose opinion is worth notice would laugh at a sensible costume. You would have gone down in a tall glossy hat, ironed and brushed up till it shines again. Hard, hot, uncomfortable, roughened at a touch, and perfectly absurd in a shower of rain. But it is the fashion, and you think it’s right. Ladies study fashion, lad; look at them after they have been caught in a shower. Now in that rig-out you could go through anything.”
“Ready?” said Sir John, taking a soft wide-awake from the hat-stand.
“Yes, and waiting,” said the doctor; and they entered the carriage, which was driven off, Jack’s last glance on leaving being at Edward on the doorsteps, as he patted his head, evidently in allusion to his young master’s pith helmet.
“Oh, if I had only been behind him!” thought the lad indignantly; which, being analysed, meant that a most decided change was taking place, for a month earlier Jack Meadows could not by any possibility have harboured the thought of kicking any one for a mocking gesture.
In good time the terminus was reached, and soon after the fast train was whirling along, leaving the busy town behind, and off and away through the open country with gathering speed. Father and friend chatted away to the lad, but he was listless and dull, refusing to be interested in anything pointed out; and at last a meaning look passed between his companions, the doctor’s eyes saying plainly enough—“Let him be: he’ll come round by and by.”
But this did not seem likely to be the case, Jack not even being attracted by the first glimpse of the beautiful estuary of the Dart when it was reached in the evening, and they looked down from the heights as the train glided along, at the town nestling up the slopes upon the other side of the water.
He did turn sharply once when the doctor said suddenly: “There are the two training ships for the naval cadets,” and pointed at the old men-of-war with their tiers of ports, moored in midstream; and was feeling a strange sense of pity for the lads “cooped up,” as he mentally called it, in the narrow limits of a ship, when the doctor suddenly exclaimed, “Look, look! both of you. I’ll be bound to say that’s our yacht.”
Jack glanced sharply at what seemed in comparison with the huge men-of-war, and seen at a distance, a little three-masted, white-looking vessel with a dwarfed funnel, lying at anchor, but he turned pale and listless again, utterly wearied out with his journey, nor did he revive over the comfortable dinner of which he partook without appetite.
Sir John looked uneasy, but the doctor gave him a meaning nod.
“You won’t care about going to look over the yacht this evening, Jack?” he said.
“I!” said the lad, almost imploringly. “No, not to-night.”
“No; we’re all tired,” said the doctor. “I did not say anything to you, Meadows; but I thought we had done enough, so I sent off word to the captain to say that we had come down, and I shouldn’t be surprised if he comes over to the hotel by and by.”
It fell out just as the doctor had said, for about half-an-hour later the waiter came into the room to say that Captain Bradleigh would be glad to see Sir John Meadows; and Jack looked up curiously as a ruddy, tan-faced, rather fierce-looking man, with very crisp hair, beard sprinkled with grey, and keen, piercing grey eyes, shaded by rather shaggy brows, entered, glanced quickly round as he took off his gold-braided yachting cap, and at once addressed Sir John, as if quite sure that he was the principal.
“Sir John Meadows?” he said courteously, but with a ring of authority in his words.
“Yes; will you sit down. This is my friend, Doctor Instow; my son.”
The captain shook hands with the two elders, giving them a firm, manly grip, short and sharp, as if he meant business; but his pressure of Jack’s thin, white hand was gentle, and he retained it in his strong, firm palm as he said—
“Ah! father—doctor—you have been ill, young gentleman?”
“I? No,” said Jack, with a look of resentment.
“Unwell, not bad,” said the captain kindly. “Only want a sea-trip to do you good;” and he smiled pleasantly, looking like an Englishman full of firmness and decision, such a one as people would like to trust in a case of emergency.
“I got your message, gentlemen,” he said, as he took a chair, “and I came on at once.”
“Thank you,” said Sir John.
“The agent wrote me a long letter, saying you might come down; but I did not think much of it, for I have had so many from him that have come to nothing.”
“People don’t like the yacht then?” said Sir John, rather anxiously.
“Oh yes, sir, they like the yacht,” said the captain, with a little laugh. “No one could help liking her. They don’t like the price.”
“Ah, the price,” said Sir John quietly; and the captain gave him a searching look.
“Yes, sir, the price; and it is a pretty good round sum; but I give you my word it is just one-third of what it cost Mr Ensler.”
“Oh! you know what it cost?” said Sir John.
“Well, I ought to, sir,” said the captain, smiling, a peculiarly frank, pleasant smile. “When he came over from New York five years ago, I was recommended to him, and he trusted me fully. She was built under my eyes, up in the Clyde, and I watched everything, as she was fitted up of the very best material, regardless of expense. The cheques all passed through my hands, so I think I ought to know.”
“Yes, of course. The agent told me the yacht was built expressly for an American gentleman.”
“That’s right, sir. He’s one of these millionaires who don’t know how rich they are, for the money comes on rolling in. Restless, nervous sort of men who must be doing something, and then they want to do something else, and get tired of the idea before they’ve begun. He had an idea that it would be a fine thing to imitate Brassey, but do it better, and sail round the world. So the Silver Star was built, rigged and finished in style. I selected as good a crew of fifteen picked, sea-going fellows as were procurable, and just a year ago we started.”
Jack began to grow interested.
“But you see, gentlemen, he was disappointed in her from the first.”
“Hah!” said the doctor sharply; “now frankly, captain, what was her failing?”
“Failing, sir?” said the captain, turning in his chair, and fixing the doctor with his clear eyes. “I tell you as a man, I can’t find a failing in her, except perhaps there’s a little too much French polish about the saloon cabin, more in the stuffed cushion line than I quite care for. You see, for an ocean-going boat I think you want to study strength and sound workmanship more than show; but that’s a matter of fancy.”
“Of course,” said Sir John, who was watching the captain very narrowly.
“Well, sir, I did my very best, what he called level best, and when she was done I was as proud of her as—as—well, as your young son here might have been of a new plaything.”
Jack winced, and looked indignant.
“But Mr Ensler didn’t like her: said she was a miserable little cock-boat, and not fit for a long voyage.”
“And frankly, between man and man, isn’t she?” said the doctor sharply.
“Well, gentlemen,” said the captain, showing his regular white teeth in a smile, “that’s a matter of opinion. I’m not interested in the matter. I’m in command with a good crew on board, and we have our pay regular as clockwork. She may be sold, or she may not; but I can only say what I think. I did all that a man who has been at sea pretty well everywhere for thirty years could do, and I say this: if you gentlemen like to buy her and engage me—mind, with a good picked crew—I’ll sail her wherever you like. If, on the other hand, you like to pick your own man, I can tell him as a brother sailor that he can’t get a better found boat in either of the yacht squadrons or in Her Majesty’s navy.”
“But Mr Ensler was dissatisfied with her.”
“He? Yes,” said the captain contemptuously. “He has been coming and going for years in the Cunard and the American liners, and his ideas were built on one of those floating palaces. As I told him, it was absurd. He wanted an ocean-going gentleman’s yacht, and there she lies. I’d trust my life in her anywhere a deal sooner than I would in one of those coal-swallowing monsters. She’s as light as a cork, easy to manage from her fore and aft rig, with a small picked crew, and has a magnificent engine with the best kind of boilers, which get up steam quickly, ready for any emergency; for of course as a yacht she’s a boat in which you would depend most upon your sailing.”
“Exactly,” said Sir John, “that is what I meant.”
“Then she’d suit you to a tittle, sir.”
“Has she made any long voyages?” said the doctor.
“No, sir, but she has been in some rough weather. I brought her round from Glasgow in the dirtiest weather I was ever in on our coast; and from here we sailed to Gib, and right away through the Mediterranean, meaning to go through the Canal and on to Ceylon; but long before we’d got to Alexandria he was sick of it, and pitched it all. I must say that we did have rather a nasty time, but, as I told him, it only showed what a beautiful boat she was. It was wonderful how we danced over the waves with close-reefed canvas. But he’d had enough, gave me my orders to bring her here to Dartmouth, and he went back to Marseilles by one of the Messageries Maritimes, and across home. When we got back, first thing I saw was the advertisement that she was for sale.”
“You have a good crew on board then?” said Sir John thoughtfully.
“As good a crew as I could pick, sir, and they are well up to their work. For I’m rather a hard man, young gentleman,” continued the captain, turning to look sharply at Jack, “as stern about discipline as they are in the Royal Navy; but work done, I like to see my men play, and somehow I think they get on very well with me. But of course, gentlemen, if you bought the yacht, you are not bound to take the captain and crew.”
“Oh no, of course not,” said Sir John quietly.
“There, gentlemen, I’ve been doing all the talking: Perhaps now you would like to ask me a few questions.”
“I think we might defer most of them till we have seen the yacht, eh, Meadows?” said Doctor Instow.
“Yes, certainly, unless anything occurs in our conversation with Captain Bradleigh.”
“Anything you like, gentlemen, though there is very little that I could say more than I have said. She’s a splendid craft in every respect. There is only one fault in her from a buyer’s point of view.”
“What is that?” said the doctor sharply.
“Price, sir.”
“But to a man of means, who would give his cheque down, Mr Ensler would take considerably less?”
The captain shook his head.
“No, sir, I don’t believe he would. He don’t want money, and I have always lived in the hope that he would take a fresh sea-going trip; but it does not come off. He has had several offers for the boat, but sent a sharp answer back that he had fixed his price.”
Sir John sat tapping the table with his finger-tips, watching his son, who seemed to be brightening up, evidently in the hope that the transaction would fall through.
“So you are going to have a few cruises, young gentleman,” said the captain, turning to Jack, for the doctor too was looking very thoughtful, and was nibbling at his nails as he glanced at Sir John. “I suppose so,” said the lad coldly. “Do you good,” said the captain. “Fine thing the pure sea-air. Why a trip round the coast for a few weeks, and you’d be quite a new man. Like the sea?”
“I? Like the sea?” said Jack with a shiver. “My son thinks he will not like it at all,” said Sir John, smiling.
“Thinks, sir,” said the captain, laughing. “Ah, he don’t know. Not like the sea! My word, what a weary world this would be if there were no sea. Storm or calm it’s grand or beautiful. There’s nothing like the sea. Oh, he don’t know yet. You mean a short cruise or two, sir, or a trip round the island from port to port. She’s a little too big for that.”
“No,” said Sir John, rousing himself from a reverie. “I intended to go from here through to Ceylon, then on to Singapore, and along the islands, touching here and there, till we reached some place at which we would like to stay.”
“Perhaps round by the Horn, touching at Monte Video, Rio, and the West Indies?” cried the captain excitedly.
“Perhaps,” said Sir John, smiling. “It depends.”
“That means a couple of years to do it well, sir.”
“I am not tied for time,” said Sir John.
“That’s a lot of money for a yacht,” said the doctor thoughtfully.
“Yes, sir, a pretty good sum, but she’s worth it, and whether you buy the Silver Star or no, I say, as an old seaman, don’t you undertake such a trip without a good boat under you, a man who knows his business for sailing her, and a good crew. If you mind that, weather permitting, you’ll have a pleasant voyage worth a man’s doing. With a clumsy craft, a bad captain, and a scraped together mutinous crew, it will be a misery to you from the day you start to the day you come back—if you ever do.”
“That is quite right,” said Sir John, rising, for the captain had risen and picked up his cap. “What time shall we come on board to-morrow?”
“Come now if you like, sir.”
“No, no; my son is tired. Will ten o’clock suit you?”
“Any hour you like to name, sir.”
“Ten then,” said Sir John. “Of course we can easily find a boatman to take us off?”
“At ten o’clock, sir, a boat will be waiting for you at the pier end,” said the captain in a sharp businesslike tone. “Good-evening, gentlemen. Weather seems to be settling down for fine. My glass is very steady.”
“Hah!” said the doctor, “I rather like that man.”
“I don’t,” said Jack sharply. “He is insufferable. He treated me as if I were a child.”
Sir John raised his brows a little in surprise to hear his son speak so sharply.
“Don’t judge rashly, Jack,” he said. “You don’t know the man yet; neither do I; but he impressed me as being a very frank, straightforward fellow, one of Nature’s rough gentlemen.”
“Would you mind my going to bed, father?” said Jack hastily. “I am very tired.”
“Go then, and have a good long night’s rest.”
“Yes,” said the doctor; “and I say, Jack, leave your window open. Sea-air is a splendid tonic.”
“Good-night,” said Jack shortly; and, shaking hands quickly, he hurried out of the room, and went to bed, after carefully seeing that the window was closely shut.
“That’s a pile of money for a yacht, Meadows,” said the doctor, as they sat together to watch the moon rise over the hills in front of the hotel away across the estuary.
“Yes, it is a heavy sum, Instow, but if it answers the captain’s description the yacht must be worth the money.”
“Yes, if it does. Seems to be an honest sort of fellow, and he’s right about having a good ship and crew for such a voyage.”
“Of course.”
“But it’s a deal to pay down.”
“I’d pay ten times as much down to-morrow to see my poor boy hale and hearty—a frank, natural lad with an English boy’s firmness and strength.”
“Instead of a weak, irritable, sickly, overstrained, nervous fellow, who would give me the horrors if I did not know that I can put him right.”
“You do feel this, Instow?”
“Of course I do. Why look at him to-night. He is tired, and speaks sharply, and almost spitefully; but already he is showing twice as much spirit, though it is in the way of opposition.”
“Yes; the feeling that he is to exert himself is beginning to show itself,” said Sir John musingly. “He’ll come round if he is given something to call out his energy.”
They sat very silent till bed-time, and on saying good-night, Sir John turned quickly upon his old friend.
“This is a chance, Instow,” he said, “and if the vessel comes up to his description I shall close at once.”
Chapter Six.
Jack begins to wake.
The waters of the Dart were dancing merrily in the bright sunshine next morning, when, nervous and so anxious that his breakfast had been spoiled, Jack walked between his father and the doctor toward the pier, wondering what sort of a vessel the Silver Star, which had been finished too finely for the captain’s taste, would prove.
“There she is,” said the doctor suddenly. “That must be the yacht, for there is nothing else in sight at all answering her description.”
“Yes, that is she, the one we saw as we came in yesterday. Why she must be quite half-a-mile away.”
“Are we to go off to the yacht in a small boat?” asked Jack nervously.
“Yes, my boy,” said Sir John. “You heard that the captain, said one would be waiting for us at ten, and it is now nearly that time. Look, there’s a man-o’-war gig coming towards the pier. How well the men look in their white duck shirts and straw hats, and with the naval officer in the stern sheets. Those men row splendidly.”
They stopped to look at the beautiful little boat glistening and brown in its varnish, with its three little fenders hanging on either side to protect it from chafing against boat-side or pier, and its rowlocks of highly polished gun-metal, and then lost sight of it behind the pier.
“Bringing the officer to land, I suppose,” said Sir John. “I dare say she comes from the Britannia.”
“No,” said the doctor suddenly. “Why that’s our captain and our boat.”
“Oh no,” said Sir John quickly. “That was a regular man-o’-war craft.”
“I don’t care; it was ours,” said the doctor. “You’ll see.”
He proved to be right, for as they went on to the pier, they saw Captain Bradleigh climb up from a boat lying out of sight close in, and he came to meet them.
“Morning, gentlemen,” he said. “You are punctuality itself. It’s striking ten. This way. We’ll go off at once, while the tide is with us, and save the lads’ arms.”
He led them to the end of the pier, where the so-called man-o’-war boat lay just beneath them, one of the sailors holding on by a boat-hook, while the other three smart-looking fellows sat quietly waiting on the thwarts. The gig was in the trimmest of conditions, and looked perfectly new, while it was set off by a gay scarlet cushion in the stern sheets, contrasting well with the brown varnished grating ready for the sitters’ feet.
“But we are never going to the yacht in that crazy little boat?” whispered Jack nervously.
“The sailors came to shore in it,” said Sir John quietly, “so why should we mind?”
“But it seems so slight and thin,” faltered the boy to his father.
“Are you afraid, Jack?” asked Sir John gravely. “If so you had better stay on the pier while we go.”
The lad was silent. That he was afraid was plainly written in his face—plainly, that is, to those who knew him. To a stranger it would have seemed to be the pallor of his complexion.
Sir John said no more, but made way for Doctor Instow to step down into the boat, and at a sign he descended and held out his hand to Jack.
“I can manage, thank you,” said the lad, and he jumped down on to one of the thwarts, and then, without assistance, took his place in the stern sheets; his father and the captain followed, the latter gave a short, sharp order, the boat was vigorously thrust away into the stream, and the next minute the four men were sending her along with a regular stroke which seemed to make the slightly-built boat throb and quiver.
For a few minutes the utterly foreign sensation was absolutely painful to the boy; and as the land appeared to glide away from them, a sensation of giddiness attacked him as he sat hearing conversation going on, but understanding nothing, till, as he turned his eyes in the captain’s direction, he saw that this gentleman was watching him curiously.
A pang shot through him, and the blood began to rise to his white cheeks, as he made a tremendous effort to master the miserable sensation of abject fear which troubled him, and succeeded so far that in a minute or two he was able to give himself the appearance of looking about him, as if examining the boats they passed.
“There, young gentleman,” said the captain suddenly, “there’s the Silver Star. What do you say to her? Doesn’t she sit the water like a sea-bird?”
Jack looked at the graceful curve and taper spars of the vessel, and began to wonder at the way in which she seemed to grow as they drew nearer; or was it that the boat in which he was gliding onward was shrinking?
He had not much more time for examination of the delicate lines traced upon the sky by the yards and cordage, for the boat was cleverly run close up, the oars tossed on high, and as the bowman hooked on to a ring-bolt the boat was drawn beneath a side ladder.
Jack felt the tremor returning as he thought of the danger of such an ascent, when his father said in a low voice—
“You did that very bravely, my boy; now make another effort.”
Jack was on his feet in an instant. He stepped forward, seized the lines on either side of the ladder, and climbed up very clumsily, but managed to reach the deck without accepting the assistance of the mate and one of the men, who stood in the gangway and made room for him to step for the first time in his life upon the deck of a ship.
Sir John and the doctor followed, and the captain remained silent, while his visitors stood gazing about the clean white deck, where everything was in the most perfect order, ropes coiled down so that at a distance they looked like pieces of engine turning, the hand-rails of polished brass and the ship’s bell glistening in the sunshine, and the pair of small guns seeming to vie with them. The sails furled in the most perfect manner, and covered with yellowish tarpaulins, yards squared, and every rope tight and in its correct place and looking perfectly new, while the spare spars and yards were lashed on either side by the low bulwarks, smooth and polished till they were like ornaments.
“Well,” said the doctor at last, “I am not a sailor, Captain Bradleigh, but everything here appears to be in the most perfect condition.”
“I hope so, sir. My men are proud of our vessel, and we do our best.”
Sir John glanced at the men, who were all at their stations, and felt a thrill of satisfaction as he noticed that they well deserved the term of “picked,” being the smart, athletic, frank, manly-looking fellows we are accustomed to see in the Royal Naval Reserve.
The captain then led the way to the cabins, which were thoroughly in keeping with what had been seen on deck, elegantly decorated and furnished, and with every inch so contrived that the greatest of convenience was given in the smallest space. Berths, steward’s room, cook’s galley, all were inspected in turn, and then the captain opened a door with a smile.
“I don’t know whether you gentlemen care for sport, but Mr Ensler had this little magazine fitted up, and it is well furnished.”
The contents seemed nothing to Jack; but the doctor and Sir John exchanged glances of surprise, as they saw on each side the sliding glass doors in which, in the most perfect order, were ranged double and single fowling-pieces, rifles from the lightest express to the heaviest elephant guns, as well as a couple of large bore for wild-fowl shooting and one with its fittings for discharging shells or harpoons. Lances, lines, nets, dredges, sounding-lines, patent logs, everything that a scientific sportsman or naturalist could desire.
“There’s a good magazine forward, gentlemen,” said the captain, “which I will show you by and by, with, I should say, an ample supply of cartridges of all kinds—the best. Cartridge and ball for the big guns, and many chests of empty brass cases, canisters of powder, and bags of all-sized shot, and the like, so that I may say the yacht is well found in that respect.”
“But these are Mr Ensler’s,” said Sir John, who appeared thoroughly interested, while his son looked on and listened in a careless way.
“Well, yes, sir, his, of course; but they go with the boat.”
“At a valuation?” said the doctor.
“Oh no,” replied the captain, smiling. “Everything in the yacht—stores, provisions, extra tackle, spare anchors, cables and sails—and I’ll show you directly, gentlemen, the stores are well worth looking at—go with the yacht at the price named. I wouldn’t be answerable for the state of some of the tinned provisions, of course, for they’ve been on board some time, but they were of the best, and I have had them gone over, and only found a few cases to condemn.”
Sir John said nothing, and the captain led them on, showing them the store-rooms, the place devoted to provisions, and then the magazine, which he pointed out as being solidly constructed at the bottom and sides, but exceedingly light overhead.
“So you see, gentlemen,” said Captain Bradleigh, “the powder and cartridges are so divided, that if there were an explosion it would be a small one, though of course it would be followed by others; but with the light construction overhead the force would fly upwards, and there would be no fear of our going to the bottom.”
There was no farther progress to be made forward, a strong iron bulkhead lined with woodwork dividing the yacht here in two; and after the magazine had been carefully closed, the captain opened a couple of arm-chests, in which were rifles, bayonets, and cutlasses, the belts and cartouche boxes hanging in a row from pegs.
“Men are all well-drilled, sir,” continued the captain, “and have regular small-arm practice, for Mr Ensler said there was no knowing where we might find ourselves; and there’s no mistake about it, gentlemen, there’s plenty of piracy out in the East still, specially in the Malay and Chinese waters.”
Jack was interested now, and he gave the captain so sharp a look of inquiry that he smiled and nodded.
“Oh yes, young gentleman, there are plenty of cut-throat scoundrels out there, as I know well, who would be a deal better out of the world. Now we’ll go back on deck, please.”
They followed him up, and he went forward, taking them to see the engine and stoke-hole, then down into the cable-tiers and another store-room, where the extra tackle and various appliances were kept. Then into the carpenter’s and smith’s workshops, and lastly into the forecastle, and the men’s cook’s galley, the former being well-fitted, ventilated, and supplied with a case of books. Finally, after quite three hours’ inspection, Captain Bradleigh led the way back to the saloon, where quite an elegant lunch had been spread, and the steward and his mate were in attendance.
“Oh, there was no need for this,” said Sir John hastily.
“I am only obeying instructions, sir,” said the captain, smiling. “Mr Ensler said that if any gentlemen took the trouble to come all the way to Dartmouth to see the yacht, the least we could do was to give them some refreshments. I think I’ve shown you everything, gentlemen, as far as I could, but of course if you thought anything of the yacht you would have her thoroughly gone over by a trustworthy marine surveyor.”
Sir John and the doctor exchanged glances again.
“Oh, there’s one thing I did not show you, gentlemen,” cried the captain. “It may interest our young friend here. We have no figure-head.”
“Is the man mad?” said Jack to himself, giving him a look full of contempt. “What interest could I possibly have in a ship’s figure-head?”
“It was a whim, a fad of Mr Ensler’s. He went to a lot of expense over it. I don’t suppose you noticed it, but just out over the cut-water close to the bowsprit, there’s a great cut-glass silver star, fitted inside with a set of the most wonderful silver reflectors, parabolic they call them, and when the big lamp inside is lit it sends rays out in all directions, so that when you are a way off, it looks just like the evening star shining out over the water. Going back to-night, gentlemen?”
“No,” said Sir John quietly; “I shall not return to-night.”
Jack winced and looked troubled.
“Then as soon as it’s dusk, young gentleman, I’ll have the star lit up. It’s of no particular use except as a bow-light, but it looks mighty pretty, as good as the fireworks you’ve let off on fifth o’ Novembers many a time, I’ll be bound.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” roared the doctor, turning to Jack merrily.
“I!” cried the lad, impatiently, and giving the captain a scornful look; “I never let off a firework in my life.”
“I have,” said the captain dryly, “many a one, and made them too. But boys—some of ’em—are a bit different to what they were when I was young.”
“Oh, they’re the same as ever, captain,” said Sir John, smiling thoughtfully, as if in recollection of the past. “As a rule, a boy is a boy, but no rule is without an exception, you know.”
“That’s right, sir.”
“And my son has been delicate, and has always led a studious, indoor life.”
“Ah, I see, sir, and now you are going to let him rough it a bit, and make a man of him.”
“Yes, a healthy man,” said the doctor.
“Ah, doctor,” said the captain merrily, “there’s a beautifully fitted medicine-chest in that cupboard, with plenty of physic and books of instructions for that, and a bit of surgery; and I’ve had to dabble in it a little myself. We captains often have to do that out away abroad. Why, sir,” he continued, with a queer humorous look at Jack, “I’d back myself to give a pill to any man against all the doctors in Christendom.”
Jack looked disgusted.
“But,” said the captain, “I was going to say, if our young friend here goes off with his father on a voyage, he won’t want you or any other doctor, sir.”
“And a good job too, captain,” cried Doctor Instow, “for I like a bit of travel and rest as well as any man. But you are quite right. It is what I prescribed. Two or three years’ voyage and travel.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said the captain, as they rose from the lunch-table; “Mr Ensler wished everything to be straightforward and above-board; is there anything else I can show you?”
“Well, yes,” said Sir John, after exchanging glances once more with the doctor; “I have come down on purpose to inspect this yacht, and I should feel obliged if you would show me over it again.”
“Certainly, sir,” said the captain bluffly; “I have nothing else to do, I’m sorry to say. Here I am at your service.”
“And in the evening,” continued Sir John, “I hope you will give me the pleasure of your company to dinner at the hotel.”
“Well, sir,” said the captain, in rather a hesitating way, “I’m not much of a dining-out sort of man, and besides, I should like you to go about the town a bit, and make a few inquiries about me and my principal and the yacht. Seaside people are pretty knowing, and you’ll soon hear a boat’s character if you begin to ask questions.”
“Oh yes, of course,” said Sir John; “but we should like to know a little more of you personally, Captain Bradleigh.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you, sir,” said the captain bluffly. “Thank you then, I’ll come. But perhaps you gentlemen would like to go over the yacht alone? I want to write a letter or two. You go about and talk to my boys. They’re not primed, gentlemen.”
“Well, I think we will,” said the doctor quickly, “Eh, Meadows?”
“Yes, Captain Bradleigh,” said Sir John; “one does not decide upon a thing like this in a minute.”
“Certainly not, sir. You go and have a good rummage, she’ll bear it, and you jot down in your log-book anything you see that you’d like to draw attention to. Call any of the men to move or overhaul anything you wish.”
For the next three hours, to Jack’s great dismay, his father and Doctor Instow roamed and hunted over the yacht. Nothing seemed too small for the doctor to pounce upon, though he devoted most attention to the magazine-room, amongst the sporting implements; but one way and another they thoroughly overhauled the yacht from stem to stern, even to examining the cable-tier and the well, and having several long talks with the men, before, to Jack’s great satisfaction, as he sat against the aft bulwarks, his father came to him and said—
“Tired, my boy?”
“Wearied out, father,” was the reply.
“Well, we have done now. What do you think of the yacht?”
“Nothing, father;” and then hastily, as he saw the look of trouble in Sir John’s eyes, “I don’t understand anything.”
“Humph! No. Of course not. Well, come down into the saloon.”
The captain looked up from where he was writing, having carefully abstained from joining them since lunch.
“Well, gentlemen,” he said, smiling, and a quiet triumphant look beaming on his face, “done?”
“Yes,” said the doctor, wiping his forehead; “I haven’t worked so hard for months.”
“Like the look of her, sir?”
“Very much indeed,” said Sir John quietly; and a pang of misery shot through the boy.
“Ah, you don’t know her yet, sir; but I’m glad you think well of her.”
Sir John took a seat and was silent for a few moments, Doctor Instow watching him with an inquiring look, while Jack was in agony.
“Look here, Captain Bradleigh,” said Sir John at last, “I do not profess to be a judge of such matters, but everything here seems to me to speak for itself, and I can fairly say that I never saw a vessel in such perfect trim before.”
“That’s a high compliment to pay me, sir,” replied the captain, “and I thank you for it. Well, I’m glad to have met you, sir, and it is a break in rather a monotonous life. Don’t apologise, sir, I know it is a very heavy price for the craft, and of course it is on account of her having fittings that not one gentleman in ten would think of putting in a yacht. You were quite welcome to see her, and as for anything I have done—”
“I do not quite understand you,” said Sir John.
“No, sir? Well, I take it that what you say is to smooth down that the craft will not quite suit you.”
“You are entirely wrong,” said Sir John; “I think she would suit me admirably, and save me a great deal of labour in preparation.”
“Oh!” cried the captain; “then I was on the wrong tack.”
“Decidedly. Now, Captain Bradleigh, about yourself. I judge you to be a perfectly straightforward, honourable man.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the captain, smiling. “I hope for my own sake that you are a good judge.”
“I hope so too. Now, Captain Bradleigh, between man and man, will you give me your word of honour that this yacht is thoroughly sound, and one that you would advise a man you esteemed to buy?”
“That I will, sir, straight,” cried the captain, holding out his hand, and giving Sir John’s a tremendous grip. “She’s as perfect as the best builders and fitters can make her, out of the best stuff. But you, if you think of buying her, get down a couple of the best men you can to overhaul her, and if they give a straightforward report, buy her you will.”
“I don’t see any need for so doing,” said Sir John quietly. “I would rather have your opinion than any man’s.”
“But you don’t know me, sir.”
“I think that any observant man would know you, Captain Bradleigh, in half-an-hour.”
The captain reddened.
“Well, sir,” he said, “I didn’t know I had my character written on my face.”
“Perhaps not,” said Sir John quietly; “but now about yourself. I don’t wish to spend more money than I can help, and I am not an American millionaire, only a quiet country gentleman rather devoted to natural history and a love of collecting.”
“That’s better than being a millionaire, sir. Money isn’t everything, though it’s very useful.”
“Exactly. Well, if I buy the yacht, will you go with me wherever I wish to sail?”
“That I will, sir, with all my heart, and do my duty by you as a man.”
“Thank you,” said Sir John; “and now about the crew. It is rather a large one.”
“Twice too big in fair weather, sir, but not a man too many in foul.”
“You think them all necessary?”
“I do, sir, unless you like to depend on steam; then you might knock off half-a-dozen, but you’d save nothing; coals at the depôts abroad are very dear. Better trust to your sails and keep the men.”
“Yes; I think you are right,” said Sir John. “What do you say, Instow?”
“Quite,” said the doctor.
“Very well then. Now about the crew; would they be willing: to engage to sail with me wherever I please, to bind themselves not to break their engagement without my leave till we return, even if it is for three years?”
“I could say yes, sir, for they’d follow me wherever I went, but I’ll ask them.”
“Do,” said Sir John.
The captain touched a table gong, and the steward appeared promptly.
“Go and ask Mr Bartlett to pipe all hands aft,” said the captain.
The man ascended, and the next minute the clear note of a whistle rang out, to be followed by the trampling of feet, and the captain rose, evidently satisfied at the promptitude with which his order was obeyed.
“They’re waiting sir,” he said.
Upon the party going on deck, there were the crew drawn up, quite as smart as men-o’-war’s men, and all looking as eager as schoolboys to learn the meaning of their summons.
“’Tention!” said the captain; and, to use the old saying, the dropping of a pin could have been heard. “This gentleman, Sir John Meadows, Bart., is going to buy the Silver Star.”
“Hurrah!” shouted a man.
“Steady there!” cried the captain sternly. “He means to sail right away east, through the Canal, and along the islands, to stop here and there where he likes—two or three years’ cruise—and he wants to know if you will sign articles to go with him, and do your duty like men.”
There was a dead silence, and as the men began directly after to whisper together, Jack, who but a minute before had felt in his misery and despair that he would give anything to hear the men refuse, now, by a strange perversity of feeling, grew indignant with them for seeming to hesitate about doing their duty to his father.
“Well, my lads, what is it?” said the captain sternly. “What are you whispering about? Can’t you give a straightforward yes or no?”
There was another whispering, and the words “You speak,” “No, you,” came plainly to Jack’s ears, followed by one man shouting—
“We want to know, sir, who’s to be in command?”
“Why, I am, my lads, of course.”
“Hooray!” came in a roar; and then—“All of us—yes, sir, we’ll go,” and another cheer.
“There’s your answer, sir,” said the captain; and then turning to the men—“Thankye, my lads, thankye.”
“Yes, that’s my answer,” said Sir John, “and an endorsement of my feeling that I am doing right.”
“And thank you, sir,” said the captain warmly. “We’ll do our duty by you, never fear. Perhaps you’ll say a word to Mr Bartlett, sir,” he whispered. “Good man and true, and a thorough sailor.”
“You will, I hope, keep your post, Mr Bartlett,” said Sir John, turning to him.
“Oh yes, Sir John,” said the mate; “I’m obliged to. Captain Bradleigh’s kind enough to say I am his right hand.”
“And I can’t go without that, can I, young gentleman?”
Jack, who was feeling unduly thrilled and excited by the novel scene, was chilled again, and he only muttered something ungraciously.
“Mr Bartlett will join us at dinner, I hope,” said Sir John; and this being promised, the men were ordered forward, the boat was manned, and, as the whole crew was watching every movement on the part of the visitors, Jack shook hands with captain and mate, and stepped down a little more courageously into the gig, but turned dizzy as he dropped into his seat.
The next minute it was pushed off, and the thrill of excitement ran through the lad again, as the crew suddenly sprang to the shrouds of the three masts, to stand there, holding on by one hand, waving their straw hats and cheering with all their might.
“Jump up, Jack, and give them a cheer back,” cried the doctor.
There is something wonderful about a sharp order suddenly given.
In an instant Jack was on his feet, waving his white pith helmet in the air, and giving, truth to tell, a miserably feeble cheer, but the crew of the boat took it up and joined in.
Then, as it was answered from the yacht, Jack sank down in his seat again, looking flushed and abashed, and he glanced from one to the other to see if they were laughing at him; but nobody even smiled. Still the lad could not get rid of the false shame, and the feeling that there was something to be ashamed of after all.