The voyage was long but uneventful. They sailed on, in fine weather,
down and down into hot inter-tropical sunshine, and reached the Cape,
took in fresh stores, and then sailed on south, so as to get into the
region where the winds are chill, but blow strongly in the right
direction, carrying the big ship onward in its course.
Week succeeded week in slow monotony, broken by a little rough weather,
but that was all. The soldiers were drilled on deck till Nic pretty
well knew the ordinary routine, and Lieutenant Lance laughingly asked
him if he would like to take command. The convicts came up morning by
morning and had their exercise in the old monotonous way; and Nic went
round with the doctor to see the men in their quarters and visit
patients. But there was no rising or mutiny, nothing to break the even
course of the voyage but a little tossing among the huge waves that came
rolling from the south-west, threatening to engulf the ship, but only
dived beneath it, raising it upon a rolling bill, and then gliding
onward to give room to the next. Nic saw the albatross till he was
tired of watching its gliding flight. He fished and had very bad
fortune, but better when he joined in with the sailors, who
good-humouredly made room for him to help haul after they had hooked a
shark, drawn the fierce fellow alongside, sent a loop down over its head
right to the narrow part in front of the tail, and so got a double hold.
Then came the evening when all was excitement, for the skipper announced
at supper that in all probability they would see land next morning, and
a thrill ran through every breast.
He was correct: land was in sight at daybreak, and Nic was standing on
deck to see it, hardly willing to be dragged away to breakfast, and back
again with Lady O'Hara and the officers, all eager after their long,
long voyage--for ships did not reach Australia in less than six weeks in
the days of King George the Third--to see the land that was to be their
home for many months, in some cases years, to come.
That afternoon they sailed out of the rough water between the great
headlands into the lake-like expanse of the glorious harbour; and before
long, after signalling, boats were seen approaching, their white sails
glistening in the clear air.
"Smell, Nic," said Lady O'Hara, "home at last, boy! What do you think
of the sunny land?"
"Think?" cried Nic huskily--"it is glorious! I never saw the sky so
blue, the land so green, and everything so beautiful. But pray, pray
don't talk to me. I want to try and make out whether my father is in
any of those boats."
"I should say yes: in that," said Lady O'Hara, who spoke in a deep,
subdued voice.
"Which--which?" cried Nic.
"That one, with the union jack at the stern."
"What, with the men in white?"
"Yes; it is the boat from the man-o'-war yonder. The governor is in it,
please God; and your father, as his friend, will most likely be with
him."
Just then one of the officers handed her a telescope, and went forward
to order up a guard of men to receive the governor.
Lady O'Hara did not seem herself. She was no longer the bluff;
outspoken woman, but appeared trembling and nervous, as she stood
resting with one hand upon the rail.
"I can't use it to-day, Nic, boy," she said. "You try the glass."
Nic took it, rested it on the rail, had a long look, and focussed and
re-focussed it, without avail.
"I--I can't see with it," he said huskily. "It is so dim. The glass is
not clear."
"Try again," said Lady O'Hara; and Nic looked at her sharply, her voice
was so changed.
But he raised the glass once more, and this time brought it steadily to
bear upon the boat rowed by the man-of-war's men.
"Now, Nic, tell me what you see," said Lady O'Hara. "Some soldiers with
muskets and bayonets. I can see the scarlet quite plain."
"Yes, yes: the marines. What else?"
"There's an officer just in front of the flag."
"One officer?"
"Stop a minute. Yes, there's another: he seems to me a bigger man."
"Look--look again."
"It's so far off that I can't quite make out, and the glass won't keep
steady; but I think he has a big white beard. Yes, and he has taken off
his hat. His head is white."
Lady O'Hara half closed her eyes, and the captain, who was near, saw
that a smile came upon her lip.
"But you see some one else, Nic?" she said faintly.
"Yes," said the boy in a very husky voice; "but it must be a seaman:
there is some one in a straw hat."
"And who will that be, Nic?"
"A sailor, I suppose."
"I do not say. Your father generally wore a straw hat. Can't you make
out his face?"
"No," said Nic, taking his eye from the glass quickly, and gazing at the
boat, which seemed to have suddenly gone back some distance.
"I want to look without the glass," he added, after a minute or so; and
then, forgetful of the glorious panorama spread around beyond the blue
lake-like harbour, he held on by the rail, gazing hard at the
approaching boat, seeing neither of the others, only that one with the
white jacketed men who made the water flash at each dip of the oars.
Then by degrees Nic began to make out the faces, which grew clearer and
clearer, till the figure wearing the straw hat rose up and waved it, and
the officer in uniform rose up then and took off his hat.
At that moment Nic was conscious of the fact that Lady O'Hara was close
by him, waving a white handkerchief.
Then he seemed to see nothing but a blurred picture of boats drawing
nearer, as the great _Northumbrian_, with her sails hanging almost
motionless, glided slowly onward through the calm water.
He was conscious, though, of the gangway being manned, and of a guard of
soldiers being drawn up to receive the governor, the officers and the
captain and mates being ready too.
At last the boat came close in alongside; a sharp order was shouted, the
guard presented arms, and a big burly grey officer stepped easily on
board, raised his hat to the officers, and then took Lady O'Hara's hands
in his, gazed at her for a moment, and then quietly drew her arm through
his, while she drew a deep, long breath, and stood there proud and
happy.
Nic just saw her, but only as it were out of the corner of his eye, for
he was tremblingly watching the gangway for the next comer--a tall,
spare, grey, aquiline-looking man with face of a warm sun tan, and eyes
that seemed to pierce the boy through and through, as he held out his
hand and cried "Father!"
"Yes, my boy. Then you knew me again? Why, Nic, lad, what a great
fellow you have grown! Lady O'Hara, welcome back."
"And glad to be back," cried the lady, shaking hands, and after a glance
at Nic, asking the question hovering on his lips, "And how are they at
the Bluff?"
"All well, and send loving greetings."
"Which I'll answer for myself, and very soon," cried the lady.
"And all well?" said the governor, with a look round as if addressing
every one.
Lady O'Hara answered.
"Yes, all well. An excellent voyage, and you'll thank the officers for
their kindness to me and Dominic Braydon here. Gentlemen, I am going
ashore in the boat, but I shall not say good-bye. My husband bids me
say that he will be glad to see every one who can leave the ship this
evening at dinner. What time, my dear?"
"Six, gentlemen," said the governor; and after a little official
business the party descended into the boat, and, feeling as if it were
all a dream and impossible, Nic sat there being rowed ashore toward
Government House, holding his father's hand for the first few minutes
till he fancied that he was noticed, and then listening to him as he
pointed out the various buildings ashore, and the vessels afloat, two of
them being men-of-war, whose rigging was gay with bunting in honour of
the governor's lady's return.
"Well, Nic," said his father at last, as they gazed searchingly in each
other's eyes, and with the most satisfactory result, "do you think you
will like Australia?"
"Like it?" cried Nic. "Why, of course, father: isn't it home?"
"Yes, but rather a rough, unpolished place."
"What does that matter!" said Nic proudly. "Shan't I be with you all
again?"