"Where are we going, Tom?" I asked, as the boatman, an old chum of
mine, proceeded to step the boat's mast. "You surely don't need the
sail for a run half-way across the harbour?"
"No," he answered; "no, I don't. But we're bound out to Spithead. The
_Daphne_ went out this mornin' at daylight to take in her powder, and I
'spects she's got half of it stowed away by this time. Look out for
your head, Mr Dick, sir, we shall jibe in a minute."
I ducked my head just in time to save my glazed hat from being knocked
overboard by the jibing mainsail of the boat, and then drew out my
handkerchief and waved another farewell to my father, whose fast-
diminishing figure I could still make out standing motionless on the
shore, with his hand shading his eyes as he watched the rapidly moving
boat. He waved back in answer, and then the intervening hull of a ship
hid him from my view, and I saw him no more for many a long day.
"Ah, it's a sorry business that, partin' with friends and kinsfolk when
you're outward-bound on a long cruise that you can't see the end of!"
commented my old friend Tom; "but keep up a good heart, Mr Dick; it'll
all be made up to yer when you comes home again by and by loaded down to
the scuppers with glory and prize-money."
I replied somewhat drearily that I supposed it would; and then Tom--
anxious in his rough kindliness of heart to dispel my depression of
spirits and prepare me to present myself among my new shipmates in a
suitably cheerful frame of mind--adroitly changed the subject and
proceeded to put me "up to a few moves," as he expressed it, likely to
prove useful to me in the new life upon which I was about to enter.
"And be sure, Mr Dick," he concluded, as we shot alongside the sloop,
"be sure you remember _always_ to touch your hat when you steps in upon
the quarter-deck of a man-o'-war, no matter whether 'tis your own ship
or a stranger."
Paying the old fellow his fare, and parting with him with a hearty shake
of the hand, I sprang up the ship's side, and--remembering Tom's parting
caution just in the nick of time--presenting myself in due form upon the
quarter-deck, where the first lieutenant had posted himself and from
which he was directing the multitudinous operations then in progress,
reported myself to that much-dreaded official as "come on board to
join."
He was a rather tall and decidedly handsome man, with a gentlemanly
bearing and a well-knit shapely-looking figure, dark hair and eyes,
thick bushy whiskers meeting under the chin, and a clear strong
melodious voice, which, without the aid of a speaking-trumpet, he made
distinctly heard from one end of the ship to the other. As he stood
there, in an easy attitude with his hands lightly clasped behind his
back and his eye taking in, as it seemed at a glance, everything that
was going forward, he struck me as the _beau-ideal_ of a naval officer.
I took a strong liking to him on the spot, an instinctive prepossession
which was afterwards abundantly justified, for Mr Austin--that was his
name--proved to be one of the best officers it has ever been my good
fortune to serve under.
"Oh, you're come on board to join, eh?" he remarked in response to my
announcement. "I suppose you are the young gentleman about whom Captain
Vernon was speaking to me yesterday. What is your name?"