THE _AURORA_
Next morning after Captain Acton had read prayers, he stepped on to
the lawn to take the air for half an hour before breakfast, and was
immediately followed by Lucy, who had hardly reached his side when Miss
Acton appeared on the hall steps and carefully descended the broad
flight, leaning on her crutch cane and followed by her pug.
It was a charming spring morning, warm as June and brilliant as a
diamond. The sea was white with the light of the sun, and the radiance
of the water clarified the sky into a tender azure, along which floated
a number of little mother-of-pearl clouds brushed by a breeze which
kept sea and land in motion with a feathering of ripples and the dance
of shadows.
"I cannot think of anything but sulphur for poor Mr Eagle's feet," said
Miss Acton, as she approached father and daughter. "I will give you a
packet for him after breakfast. Is not this a morning to lift up one's
heart in rejoicing? How fair is this prospect! How tender and promising
this scene of garden! How quiet the old town looks upon the hill! The
heart swells in gratitude to God on such a morning as this."
"Very true, sister," said Captain Acton, "and I hope we are all
grateful; I am sure I am. I was very well pleased with our friend Mr
Lawrence last night. I witnessed nothing in him that I could have
wished not to see. I do not know that I ever met a more gentlemanlike
man. He holds himself very well. He has a fine figure, and I like his
type of good looks; it is manly. The face is a little weather-worn
perhaps."
"'Tis a pity he cannot command his appetites," said Miss Acton. "How
would my heart bleed if he were my son! Poor, dear Sir William! with
what Christian fortitude has he resigned himself to the wretchedness of
seeing his son out of the Navy, and squandering his precious time in
drinking with Lieutenant Tupman."
"He can control himself," said Captain Acton. "Did you observe,
Lucy, that he refused all refreshments last night? Now, a man who is
radically and incurably a sot cannot view a decanter of anything to
drink, and the stronger the worse, without thirsting for it. And
did ever such a man say no to an invitation to drink with the liquor
standing up in a bottle in front of him?"
"I am sure he is a man of resolution," said Lucy. "I never look at him
without seeming to see why it is he should be so gallant and desperate
a fighter at sea. He has a cast of face that is very uncommon, full of
power of thought, and the shape of his head is like that Greek bust in
the library. How is it that a man with his spirit is unable to deny
himself what he knows must speedily bring him to ruin?"
"It is not only drink," said Miss Acton. "They tell me he is accustomed
to bet very heavily."
"He will mend. He shall have a chance," said Captain Acton cheerily.
"I love his old father, and I am strongly disposed to like his son;
and I am an ill judge of human nature if I am wrong in predicting that
the command I have given him will lead to his reformation. I have
ever found it true that the way to make a man honest is to let him
understand that you have a cordial faith in his good intentions. He
must be a black-hearted rogue beyond hope who disappoints the high and
reassuring expectations you give him to know you have formed of him."
"Mr Lawrence has a beautiful voice," said Lucy. "How touchingly he
sang 'Tom Bowling'!"
"I could love him for his way of singing 'Sally in our Alley,'" said
Miss Acton. "But the song in his mouth has not the moving sweetness
papa gave it."
At this moment Captain Acton cried out, halting as he uttered the words
with his eyes fixed in the direction of Old Harbour: "Bless my soul!
what can have happened? Is the French Flotilla in sight?"
"The French Flotilla!" exclaimed Miss Acton. "In sight, do you say?"
"What can be the meaning of it?" said Captain Acton.
"What do you see? The French Flotilla?" cried Miss Acton in a voice
tremulous with agitation. She darted her eyes through her glasses over
the sea.
"If the French Flotilla is not in sight," said Captain Acton, "what
can be the intention of Mr Tupman rising at this very early hour and
getting his brig under weigh? For certainly the _Saucy_ is making a
start for something or somewhere. Do you see her sheeting home her
canvas, Lucy?"
"She is going out for a little cruise, no doubt," said Lucy.
"I quite agree, but it is so unusual for Tupman to be out of bed at
this hour that we cannot but think that something very important
and dangerous has called him from his moorings. No, sister, the
flat-bottomed boats are not in sight yet, and I suspect we shall
have to go on staring for many a week, and many a month, if not for
ever, before we sight them coming along in a shoal with the little
cocked-hatted usurper, his arms folded upon his breast, watching the
van from the hindmost, for he is one of those mighty conquerors who are
very careful of their own precious carcasses."
It was as Captain Acton said: the _Saucy_ brig-of-war was getting under
weigh, and it might be safely concluded for no other purpose than to
exercise the crew by an off-shore trip. Captain Acton and the two
ladies stood watching the little toy figure away down in the river's
mouth. Sail was made with man-of-war despatch; all the clews were
sheeted home together, the yards at the same time mounting, so that all
at once it seemed the little vessel broke into a broad, bright, shapely
glare of canvas, slightly leaning from the breeze as she softly crept
round and pointed her bowsprit seaward, and whitening the water under
her with the power of a floating body of radiance.
"Well done, Tupman!" cried Captain Acton, who watched the manoeuvre
with a sailor's interest. "Sluggard as you are, you have your little
ship and her people well in hand. I wonder if there's a foreigner
afloat that could have made sail with the despatch that brig exhibited?"
The little leaning vessel, diminished by the distance from which she
was surveyed into a size fit only to be manned by Liliputian sailors,
crept like a small white cloud along the placid water of Old Harbour,
and rounding the pier hauled the wind for a south-westerly course.
They watched her as she streamed onwards with a sparkle as pretty as
a rainbow at her fore-foot, and a short scope of trembling lustre
astern as though she towed a length of satin. A few minutes before
she disappeared from the sight of those who viewed her from the lawn
of Old Harbour House, past the bluff or round of cliff on which stood
the dropsical old lighthouse, she dipped her flag manifestly in
response to a hidden salutation, and scarcely had she vanished when
there stole out from the edge of the cliff round which she had gone,
the slanting figure of a large three-masted schooner with the English
ensign at her peak. She was steering directly for Old Harbour. Though
she had evidently come a long journey, she made upon those silver-white
rippling waters a far handsomer figure than the brig. She was clothed
from truck to waterway with sails which reflected the light of the
morning with something of the splendour of polished metal. Her hull
was black, but she was inclined sufficiently by the breeze to reveal a
narrow breadth of copper sheathing, which sprang pulses of wet dazzling
light upon the eye in keen flashes like gun fire.
"The _Aurora_!" cried Captain Acton. "How nobly she sits! How her sharp
bows eat into it! Does not she come along handsomely? What a slaver she
would make! Nothing flying the British flag could catch her. I did not
conceive her due before next Wednesday. She has not been nabbed this
voyage, at all events."
"She floats in like a swan," said Miss Acton.
"A most unfortunate image, sister," rejoined the Captain, laughing;
"for a swan's white bulk sits low upon the water, whilst yonder beauty
is all airy, cloudlike height."
The breakfast bell at this moment summoned them from the lawn. At table
Captain Acton said that he had asked Mr Lawrence to meet him at his
office down on the quay at half-past ten. This office was in a little
house a few minutes' walk from the warehouses. Captain Acton employed
a person who looked after his affairs, who, with the assistance of
a couple of clerks, saw to the delivery and loading of cargoes, to
the needs of the ships in respect of gear, canvas, carpenters' and
boatswains' stores, and so forth. But not the less did the gallant
Captain take an interest in his own business. He was laudably anxious
to promote the prosperity of Old Harbour and Old Harbour Town, but
though he was a rich man--a very rich man indeed in those days, having
come into a fortune of eighty thousand pounds, together with the finely
wooded and beautiful freehold estate known as Old Harbour House--he
was by no means disposed to lose money in marine speculation; so he
kept a keen eye upon the books, examined narrowly all the demands which
were made for the ship's furniture, closely watched the markets in
rum, sugar, and coffee, and having a clear perception of the risks of
war, justly appraised the value of his tonnage to those who desired
consignments through his bottoms.
Shortly after breakfast he left the house and walked by way of the lane
to the Harbour.
Lucy was not a young lady to sit idle. She could find something to do
in every hour in the day. As Miss Acton did the housekeeping, Lucy was
left to her own inventions, and being a girl of several resources,
she was very happy in pleasing herself. Miss Acton went to look after
the affairs of the home, and to attend to the needs of a little
congregation of poor who were ushered into the housekeeper's room one
after another every morning, excepting Sunday, where they stated their
wants and obtained such relief as Miss Acton's closets, stocked from
her own purse, could supply; and if they did not get always exactly
what they wished, they were sure of tender and consoling words, of
sympathetic enquiry into their troubles, of a promise of some stockings
for little James next week, of a roll of flannel for old Martha the day
after to-morrow. Pleasant and instructive it might have been to witness
this old lady in her hoop and flowered gown asking questions, handing
purges, promising little gifts of apparel to the poor people, who
ceaselessly sank in curtsies, or plucked at wisps of hair upon their
foreheads whilst they scraped the ground behind with their feet.
Lucy first of all spent three-quarters of an hour in drawing. She was a
charming picture as she sat in the library bending over her board; her
eyes dwelt in their beauty of lids and heavy lashes, sometimes with a
little fire of pleasure, sometimes with a little life of impatience,
upon the motions of her pencil and its results, and perhaps not always
did she think of what she was about, for now and again the pencil would
stand idle in her hand, the natural glow of her cheek would slightly
deepen as to some visitation of moving thought; her eyes would lift in
languor from her work to the open window, upon the bit of landscape
which it framed, beautiful with the small darts, and curves, and lights
of springtime in the trees, they appeared to brood in contemplation
from which she broke sometimes with a faint smile, sometimes with an
expression upon her sweet lips which found a deeper loveliness for her
naturally pensive look.
When she had done with her drawing, she went to the piano and passed
another half-hour at that instrument, then took up some work which she
presently neglected for a novel, and shortly after eleven o'clock she
mounted to her bedroom to prepare herself for a drive with her aunt.
At half-past eleven a carriage and pair drove through the gates and
stopped in front of the house, and there fell from the box a groom in a
livery of brass buttons and orange facings, who posted himself opposite
the hall door and with crooked knee studied the entrance with trained
intentness. He was not kept waiting long. The hall door was opened,
and Mr Bates, the butler, appeared with a shawl and rug and the pug. A
few minutes later Miss Acton and Lucy entered the carriage, one nursing
her pug, the other her terrier. And when some parcels were put in they
were driven away.
"I can think of nothing better than sulphur for poor Mr Eagle's feet.
Here is a packet of it, enough, I believe, to enable him to walk in
sulphur for quite a fortnight," said Miss Acton.
They had arranged to drive as far as the bridge, where they would quit
the carriage and walk along the wharves to view the _Aurora_ and give
the sulphur to Mr Eagle. But there were several places to be visited
first of all: Mrs Bigg was to be enquired after; a little basket of
comforts in the shape of tea, sugar, and the like was to be left at
Mrs Lavender's, whose husband had fallen into a disused pit, and after
lying in it all night, during which it rained heavily and continuously,
he was discovered by a boy, and later on hauled up with both his legs
broken. Several such errands of kindness and compassion must render the
drive to the bridge circuitous.
As the carriage went down a lane into the main road, it overtook Sir
William Lawrence, who was stoutly trudging along in the direction
of Old Harbour, striking the ground as he went with a staff with the
regularity of the pounding of a wooden leg whose owner marches steadily.
"Pray, get in! Pray, get in, Sir William!" cried Miss Acton, after
telling the coachman to stop, and in a few moments the hearty old
gentleman was seated opposite the ladies and the carriage proceeding.
"I am on a visit to Old Harbour," said the Admiral, "to inspect the
_Minorca_. Now that my son is in command of her I am doubly interested
in the ship. Were you ever on board of her, Miss?"
"Yes, sir," answered Lucy. "I paid her a visit with papa when she
returned home before this voyage, but I was never in her cabin."
"We will explore it together. I hope to have the pleasure of handing
you over the side, ma'am," said the Admiral to Miss Acton.
"If the ship is perfectly motionless I might venture to step on to
the deck," answered Aunt Caroline, "but I could not enter the cabin,
sir. I believe the smell would instantly oppress me with nausea. I am
a shocking bad sailor; even the sight of a rocking ship at a distance
provokes an indescribable and a very disagreeable sensation."
"You, madam, are not to be so easily upset," exclaimed the Admiral,
looking with undissembled admiration at the beautiful, glowing girl
seated opposite, never more fascinating than in the dress in which she
had apparelled herself this morning. Her large hat sat lightly on one
side her head, and the fringes of her rich and abundant hair were like
little pencilled shadowings upon her fair brow, save that now and again
the passage of the carriage made these fairy tresses tremble. "My son
passed a delightful evening at your father's."
"Nobody could have been more agreeable, sir," said Miss Acton. "He has
a sweet, strong voice, and sings with great feeling."
"Oh yes, he has the makings of a fine fellow in him," exclaimed the
Admiral, with his face clouding somewhat. "It is not for me to say
so, but there was a time when I was proud of my son. Such was his
zeal and gallantry in the Service that I sometimes flattered myself
the day would come when, like Lord Nelson, he would have a gazette to
himself. His opportunities in the Navy are passed. Even if he could be
reinstated I doubt if he would return, so lively, unnaturally lively,
is the resentment and aversion which the sentence of the court-martial
excited in him. It is a pity--it is a pity!"
The hearty old gentleman sighed, and his eyes reposed in thought upon
the face of Lucy.
She may have found an intelligence in his gaze which it did not
possess. Her cheeks were a little warmer. She cast her eyes down. The
expression of the whole face was peculiarly pensive.
Whatever may have been the thoughts in the Admiral's mind at that time
it is certain that among the mortifications and regrets his son's
conduct caused him, must be ranked the consideration that Mr Lawrence,
had he governed his conduct with prudence, would have stood a very good
chance of winning the hand of Lucy Acton. The Admiral knew that his
son had proposed to the lady, and his partiality as a father could not
blind him to the reasons of his rejection. He had cause to suppose that
in his quiet, unostentatious way Captain Acton had taken a favourable
view of Lawrence's suit. But the sentence of the court-martial, and
his subsequent lazy, sottish life ashore had utterly extinguished the
lieutenant's chances so far as Captain Acton was concerned.
Naturally Sir William grieved over this consideration. Here was a
beautiful girl and an heiress, belonging to one of the oldest families
in the country; her father had exhibited no marked ambition in the
direction of her marriage; he was willing to leave her to choose,
having confidence in her judgment, and convinced that her choice would
be dictated by regard to her own happiness. Like Sir William, he loved
his old calling, and a naval alliance would have been gratifying to
him. There was indeed much for the poor old Admiral to deplore, and no
doubt Lucy had some delicate sense of what might be or should have been
as she sat with her cheeks a little deepened in colour and her eyes
pensively bent downwards.
The carriage stopped opposite the steps on the bridge down which Sir
William, holding Miss Acton by the hand, conducted the old lady with
admirable solicitude for her safety, begging her not to hurry, but to
lean upon him and not trust to her cane. The two dogs were left behind.
The scene of the quay-side was gay and indeed festive. The few ships
had hoisted colours in celebration of the _Aurora's_ arrival, and the
large flags of those days streaming from mast-head and gaff-end and
ensign-staff and jack-staff combined with the brilliant blue of the
sky, the light and lovely greenery of spring that clothed the ravine's
slopes, the sober hue of the cliffs, the white shape of the squab
lighthouse past which some gulls were wheeling, the chocolate tint of
the revolving windmill, the sober grey of the houses and the diamond
sparkle of the river with its softened reflection of bridge and banks
streaming into its heart in dreamlike shadow of what was mirrored:
this combination, I say, coupled with the motions and colours of human
life on the quay-side, albeit the beer hour had struck and the picture
owed nothing of animation to the workmen, fascinated the eye with the
calm, the freshness, and the glory of a little English sea-piece,
Sabbath-like in repose, lighted by the sun of April beaming in a
perfectly fair heaven.
Naturally the arrival of the _Aurora_, as of any ship, but particularly
a vessel belonging to the port, must be an incident full of active
interest. The wives and children of the crew lived in Old Harbour
Town; the men were related to two-thirds of the people of the place.
The return from a considerable voyage of a ship in those days was not
the commonplace familiar happening of every day which it now is. Ships
sailed in convoys, and arrived in groups at long intervals. Again a
ship was attended with a passion of interest which is no longer felt.
Will she fall in with the enemy? Will she escape him? There was much to
tell after a voyage in those days no matter into what regions of the
globe a vessel sailed: new lands to discover; amazing and enriching
products of the soil to be reported. New races were to be met with.
Indeed in 1805 Sydney Cove in New Holland, which had been settled by
Phillip in 1787, was scarcely thought of as a new land in this country,
it was too recent and remote; it was to supply reports later on, news
which was to startle and excite the nation, differing only in kind from
the information ships returned with from the East Indies and China and
the great continent of South America.
Therefore, when a ship was newly come home even to a little maritime
scene such as Old Harbour, there was plenty to hold groups in animated
converse on the quay-side.
The _Aurora_ had hauled in to her berth; the crew were busy in
unbending her sails. The _Minorca_ lay close enough to establish a
contrast, and everybody would have admitted that if the barque was
a smart ship for her time, the three-masted schooner built by the
Americans was as shapely a fabric as the gracefullest then afloat. The
Admiral and the ladies paused before her on their way to the _Minorca_,
which lay further on. They would not go on board; there was too much
confusion. The captain, however, stumping the quarterdeck and shouting
orders, saw and recognised them. He was a thick-set man, brick-red in
complexion, with deep-red greasy hair, ear-rings, brown eyes, and a
mouth that through some injury was drawn a little way up into his left
cheek. He came to the bulwark-rail with his hat in his hand, and as
the Admiral and the ladies stepped to the quay-side to speak to him,
he exclaimed: "Happy to see you, ma'am. And my hearty respects to you,
Miss, and I hope that Admiral Lawrence is none the worse for remaining
ashore."
"Glad to see you safely back, Captain Weaver," cried Miss Acton.
"What a very quick voyage you have made this time, Captain Weaver!"
called out Lucy.
"Some Frenchman had the scent of ye, Captain, hey, and gave you heels?"
exclaimed Sir William. "There's sometimes the virtue of half a gale of
wind in a round shot, eh, Captain?"
"Why, sir," answered the Captain, "it is true that we was chased, but
that didn't make us the voyage the young lady's obliging enough to
praise us for. Off the Scillies a French frigate hove in sight on the
weather bow, but what could she do with us? I eased off and got her
abeam, soon afterwards on the quarter; I then luffed, sir, making a
tight jam of it, and crossed her bows at the distance of about three
mile. She threw a few shot at us, but what's a frigate a-going to do
with a vessel as can look up as the _Aurora_ does, until by thunder
the wind seems blowing fore-and-aft?"
He ran his eyes proudly over the spars of his vessel and along the
length of her.
"I am glad to know that you return and find your wife and little boy
well," said Lucy.
"Oh thank you, mum, thank you, and it's deeply beholden I am to you
and Miss Acton for calling and enquiring after them, not to mention
presents which leaves my Sarah most grateful indeed. That there little
Tommy of mine grows like a ship you're arisin'. Because I'm his father
I'm not goin' to pretend he don't improve every voyage."
"Put him into the Royal Navy," said the Admiral. "The King wants chips
of old blocks like you."
"No fear, sir," called the Captain over the bulwark-rail, with a steady
shake of the head and a smile that merely ran his mouth higher into his
cheek. "I've set my 'eart upon making him a lawyer. He shall end like
old Mr Greyquill, as rich and as comfortable; and when he's old he'll
hang out a white head of hair like a flag of truce, to let the world
understand he don't want any more quarrelling."
"Good!" cried the Admiral with a laugh and an applauding flourish of
the hand, and with this laugh, and smiles and bows from the ladies,
Sir William and his companions pursued their way to the _Minorca_.
It was apparently a morning half-holiday with Old Harbour Town.
Groups stood or walked about the wharves in talk. Most of the people
respectfully saluted the ladies and the Admiral, who, one or another,
had for every other person a kindly sentence or a pleasant smile.
Standing in the gangway of the _Minorca_ was Mr Lawrence, who had
manifestly seen the party approaching, though himself had been hidden
from them by the interposition of the main shrouds. He crossed the
planks which connected the ship with the shore, and stood with his hat
in his hand as though they were royalty.
"Is papa on board?" asked Lucy.
"No, madam. I left him at his offices about half an hour ago."
"We have come down to look over your ship, Walter," said the Admiral,
sending from the wharf-side a sailor's knowing glance up at the masts
and spars of the barque. "You'll not have had time yet, but I trust
whilst you're in harbour you will set a good example to others by
keeping your gear hauled taut and your yards square to a hair by lift
and brace."
"She shall look as smart as she can be made to look, sir," answered Mr
Lawrence. "Permit me to conduct you on board, madam."
He had the grace, sense, and tact, to offer his hand to Miss Acton, who
said: "Do not let go of me. Those are very narrow planks. If I should
be left alone in the middle, I should turn giddy and tumble."
"Trust to me, madam," said Mr Lawrence, and taking the old lady by the
hand he marched her on to the planks, and they went in safety over the
side into the ship. The Admiral and Lucy followed.
The decks were empty, the men were at dinner. She was a flush deck
ship, that is to say, her decks ran fore-and-aft without a break.
She was steered by a wheel placed aft, which was unusual. Her deck
furniture was simple: she had the necessary companion-way to the cabin,
a little caboose or kitchen abaft the foremast, and abaft that again a
long boat secured keel up to ring bolts by lashings. She also carried a
couple of boats secured under the bulwarks. Her artillery was trifling:
four eighteen-pounder carronades, two of a side, the purpose of which
it was idle to enquire, because, as she carried but twelve seamen, two
boys, a steward, and a cook, she was not likely to make much show of
resistance against a pirate with the blood-red flag of "No Quarter" at
his mast-head, or any ship of the enemy which, though but a lugger,
would certainly be far more heavily armed and manned than the _Minorca_.
"A fine sweep of deck," said the Admiral. "Lord, how the old spirit
comes into one with the feel of a ship's plank under foot!"
"Is Mr Eagle on board?" asked Miss Acton.
"No, madam. He is ashore getting his dinner."
"Will you give him this packet of sulphur, and tell him to put a little
into his stockings? I hope it may do the rheumatism in the poor man's
feet good."
Mr Lawrence pocketed the packet with a bow. Occasionally his eye went
to Lucy, but he never suffered it to dwell, nor indeed did he seem to
mark his sense of her presence by any particular behaviour. He was
perfectly sober, his eyes clear and beaming, his cheeks painted with
a little colour, and his apparel showed care. His father glanced at
him and seemed well pleased, and Lucy owned to herself that she had
never seen him look more handsome, and that somehow or other no stage
seemed to fit his peculiar type of beauty more happily, with a subtler
blending of all qualities of its furniture with the spirituality of the
man, than the deck of a ship with the rigging soaring.
"It is wonderful to think," said Miss Acton, "how far a ship like this
will go. I suppose she would go around the world."
"Again and again, madam, whilst her timbers held."
"Around the world!" exclaimed Miss Acton, looking about her with an
expression of awe in her face. "It is a long way from Old Harbour Town
to London. But around the world! I believe I should be proud had I been
around the world. How few who are not sailors can boast of it!"
"Let me conduct you into the cabin, madam," said the Admiral.
"No, sir, I must be content to stop on deck. It is about twenty years
ago since I was on the sea. I crossed from Dover to Calais. We were
two days terribly tossed about, and almost lost upon some sands. I lay
dreadfully ill all the time, and on our arrival at Calais, when I had
strength to speak, I said to papa: 'We must return by the sea, it is
true, to get home, but once I am at home, I will never more put my foot
into a ship.'"
"But the cabin is motionless, madam," said Mr Lawrence. "It is the
tumbling of the sea that makes you ill. Here we are as restful as a
painting."
"The very look of that hole," said the old lady, directing her eyes at
the companion-way, "makes me feel as though if I descended I should
suffer all that nearly killed me in my voyage from Dover to Calais."
"May I have the great honour of showing you the cabin, Miss?" said Mr
Lawrence.
"Yes; since I am here I should like to see the ship," answered Lucy.
"I will keep Miss Acton company on deck," said the Admiral.
Mr Lawrence led the way below.
A barque of five hundred tons, though she would be regarded as a
considerable ship in those days, will not supply lofty nor extensive
cabin accommodation. This little ship's interior consisted of a cabin
into which daylight passed through a skylight in the deck above. In the
middle of this cabin was a short table capable of seating one at each
end and two of a side. The cabin was painted brown and was somewhat
gloomy. The furniture merely supplied the ordinary needs of the
occupants. There were four sleeping berths, and a little compartment
which was used as a pantry.
"I never was in a place like this before," said Lucy, resting her hand
upon the table and gazing round her with the curiosity which a new and
striking scene of life must always excite in an intelligent mind.
"The bedrooms are very small," said Mr Lawrence, going to the berth
that confronted the aftermost end of the cabin table and opening the
door. "But at sea any little hole is good enough to stow oneself away
in. Amongst other things, a sailor learns how to sleep, and the habit
is so strong with me of slumbering anywhere that if there was room for
me I believe I could sleep in a hawse-pipe when the ship is pitching
bows under."
"What a very little room!" said Lucy, peering in through the door Mr
Lawrence held open. "How fearful to be locked up in such a box when the
ship is sinking."
"Oh, you must not think of such things, madam. How fearful to be locked
up in your bedroom, though it should be half as big as this ship, when
the house is on fire! Would not you enjoy a short voyage? The trip to
the West Indies is short. It is a tropical journey, and all the romance
of the sea is in it."
"In what things, sir?"
"Oh, madam, in magnificent sunsets, in storms of fire which harm
not, though they are as sublime as one might figure a vision of Hell
viewed through such tremendous doors as Milton described; in birds of
exquisite plumage, and flight which is beyond all other forms of grace;
in fish of a thousand lustrous dyes, and the dark wet blue of the long
shark; in nights magnificent with such stars as do not shine upon these
Islands. For as you strike south, madam, the glory of things which are
glorious waxes hourly, the moon expands into a nobler shield, and her
path upon the water is a torrent of silver that seems to mark the depth
of the mystic realm it sounds----"
As he spoke these words the companion ladder was darkened, and a moment
or two later Captain Acton entered the cabin.