PORTSMOUTH _EN FÊTE_
The lunch at Whale Island was over, and there was a slight
breathing-space ere the garden-party, which followed it, began.
Meanwhile, from Southsea pier, from down by the pontoon at the foot of
the old Hard, and over from Gosport, picket-boats, steam pinnaces,
and launches--all belonging to Her Majesty's ships lying out at
Spithead--were coming fast, as well as shore boats and numerous other
craft that blackened the waters. And they bore in them a gaily-dressed
crowd of men and women, the ladies being adorned in all those
beauteous garments which they know so well how to assume on such an
occasion; while, among the gentlemen, frock-coats, tall hats, and
white waistcoats, as well as full dress, or 'No. 1' uniform, were the
order of the day. For all these ship's-boats, after putting off from
the battleships and cruisers to which they belonged, had, by order of
the Vice-Admiral commanding the Channel Squadron, called at the
above-named places to fetch off the visitors to the Whale Island
festivities.
Stephen Charke, in the uniform of the R.N.R., came in the picket-boat
of the _Bacchus_, wherein he had been lunching with the wardroom
officers, and as she went alongside of Southsea pier, and afterwards
at the Old Town pier, he had eagerly scanned the ladies who were
waiting to be taken off. He was not, however, particularly
disappointed or cast down at not seeing the one girl he was looking
out for at either of them, since, in the continual departure of
similar boats, and the running backwards and forwards of these craft
between Whale Island and the landing-stages, it was, of course, hardly
to be supposed that she would happen upon the particular boat in which
he was.
He saw her, however, directly he, with his companions, had made their
way to the lawn on which the wife of the Port-Admiral was receiving
her guests, and--in so seeing her--he recognised instantly that he was
not going to enjoy his afternoon as much as he had hoped to do.
'Who's that?' he asked of the Staff-Commander of the _Bacchus_, with
whom he happened to be walking at the moment. 'I mean that
flag-lieutenant talking to the young lady in the white dress?'
'That?' replied his companion, regarding the young officer indicated.
'Oh, that's Gilbert Bampfyld, flag-lieutenant to the Rear-Admiral.
He's a good chap; I'll introduce you later. A lucky fellow, too. He's
heir to his uncle, Lord D'Abernon. He's all right,' he concluded
inconsequently.
'I know the young lady,' Stephen said. 'I've been at sea with her
uncle.'
'Good-looking,' said the Staff-Commander, who was a single man. 'Fine
girl, too. I hope she's coming to the ball.'
'She is,' Charke replied, and then stood observing her companion from
the little group of which they now formed part.
Certainly the young officer was 'all right,' if good looks and a manly
figure can entitle any one to that qualification. He was undoubtedly
handsome, with the manliness which women are stated (by authorities
on such matters) to admire: his bright eyes and good complexion, as
well as his clear-cut, regular features, leaving little else to
desire. He was also fairly tall, while, if anything were required to
set off his appearance, it was furnished by his full-dress and his
flag-lieutenant's aiguillettes. He was talking now in an animated way,
as Charke could see easily enough from where he stood by the
refreshment tent; and it was not possible for him to doubt that he was
making himself very interesting to Bella.
For a moment, Stephen stood hesitating as to whether he should go up
and present himself to the girl who had never been out of his thoughts
since he said 'goodbye' to her in West Kensington; then, while he
still debated the matter in his mind, Bella saw him and smiled and
nodded pleasantly, while she looked--as he thought--as though she
expected he should come up to her. Which of course decided him.
There was no affectation in the manner wherewith Bella greeted him; in
truth, she was glad to see him and, honestly, as she did everything
else, she said so.
'I have been looking for you for the last half-hour,' she remarked, as
he reached her side, 'and wondering if you were coming or not'; after
which she introduced Stephen Charke and Gilbert Bampfyld to each
other. Then, some other officers coming up at this moment, more
introductions took place, while Bampfyld said that he must move off.
'I have escaped from my Admiral for a few moments,' he said, while he
added with a laugh: 'I am not quite sure, however, that he is not
congratulating himself on having escaped from me. I hope, Miss
Waldron,' he added, 'that you have an invitation for the ball?'
'Yes,' Bella said; and she smiled at Lieutenant Bampfyld's request
that he might not be forgotten on that occasion, though she did not
say positively whether that calamity would occur or not. Then, when he
had moved on to join the distinguished officer to whom it was his duty
to be attached almost as tightly as a limpet to a rock, she said to
Charke, 'Come, now, and see mamma. She is in the shade behind the
tent, and she has found an old friend of father's.'
But it was so evident that Mrs. Waldron was thoroughly enjoying
herself with that old friend, who was a retired post-captain (she was,
indeed, at the moment of their arrival engaged in reminiscences of the
North American and West Indian stations), that they strolled away
together, and, finding soon another shady seat, sat down and passed an
agreeable hour or so. Wherefore, as you may thus see, Stephen Charke
did spend a happy afternoon, notwithstanding that first apparition of
the flag-lieutenant in converse with the girl who was now never out of
his thoughts. Indeed, it would have been to him a perfect afternoon,
had he not more than once seen Bampfyld (who again appeared to have
escaped from his Admiral!) roaming about the place with a somewhat
disconsolate, as well as penetrating, look upon his face; which look
Charke construed into meaning that the other was seeking for the girl
of whom he himself had now obtained temporary possession. However,
even so, he did not think it necessary to call Bella's attention to
the fact. But we must not tarry over these soft summer beguilements to
which the old naval capital and all in her had given themselves up.
There lie other matters before us--matters which, when they afterwards
occurred, caused three people now partaking of these enjoyments to,
perhaps, cast back their memories,--memories that were not untinged by
regret. Suffice it, therefore, that we hurry on, and passing over
another garden-party which took place at the Military Commandant's,
and an 'at home' given on board the foreign visitors, flagship, as
well as entertainments at which only the male sex were present, we
come to the Naval ball at the Town Hall.
That was a great night, a night on which, if one may judge by
subsequent events, many loving hearts were made happy; on which, too,
some saw the dawn of the first promise of future happiness--and one
man, at least, was made unhappy. It was a great night! A night no more
forgotten by three people in the days that followed it than was the
garden-party which preceded it by a day or so.
The First Lord of the Admiralty led off the quadrille with the wife of
the Commander-in-Chief, while the Prince who was in command of the
foreign fleet danced with the First Lord's wife; there being in that
set, round which the other guests formed a vast circle, the most
prominent individuals then present in Portsmouth. And Bella, standing
close by with her hand upon the arm of Stephen Charke, while they
waited for the first dance in which all the guests could participate,
felt that, at last, she knew what a ball was.
'It isn't quite like a State Ball,' whispered Lieutenant Bampfyld to
them as he passed by with his Admiral, he being qualified to give such
information in consequence of his duties as flag-lieutenant having
often given him the opportunity of attending those great functions,
'but it is much prettier.' Then he disappeared for a time.
'It could scarcely be prettier than it is,' Bella said to Charke. 'How
has the room been made so beautiful?'
'The men of the _Vernon_ have done it all,' her companion answered;
'they are good at that sort of thing.'
As, indeed, they seemed to be, judging by the effect they had
produced. Trophies of arms, flags, devices, life-buoys white as snow,
with the names of vessels belonging both to the visitors and ourselves
painted in gold upon them, decorated the vast room; while, from the
dockyard, had been unearthed old armour and weapons, such as, in these
present days, are forgotten. Also the colour lent by various uniforms,
naval, military, and marine, as well as by flowers and the bouquets
carried by ladies, added to the brilliant scene--while the sombre
black of civilians helped to give a contrast to the bright hues. For
civilians were not forgotten: Admiralty officials, private residents,
special correspondents--with a wary eye on their watches, so that they
might be able to rush over to the Post-office with their last messages
for the great London and provincial papers--were all there.
'Come,' said Stephen Charke, as the band of the Royal Marines struck
up the first waltz, 'come, Miss Waldron; it is our turn now.'
And for ten minutes he realised what happiness meant.
That he would have to resign her for the greater part of the evening,
he knew very well--her programme was already full!--his name appearing
three times on it, and Lieutenant Bampfyld's also three times--yet,
later, he did so none the less willingly for that knowledge. How could
he? He loved the girl with his whole heart and soul--madly! 'I shall
love her always, until I die,' he muttered to himself as he stood
by, seeking no other partner and watching her dancing now with
the flag-lieutenant. Then, next, he saw her dancing with the
flag-lieutenant of the other Admiral--though that did not seem to him
to be so disturbing a matter. 'Till I die!' he repeated again; and
then once more called himself a fool.
His second dance with her arrived, and once more he was in his seventh
heaven; for the moment he was again supremely happy.
'I hope I may have the pleasure of taking you in to supper,' he
almost whispered in her ear as they paused for a moment for breath,
and it seemed as if the light of his enjoyment--for that evening at
least--had been suddenly extinguished when she, raising those sweet,
clear eyes to his, exclaimed:
'Oh, I am so sorry! But I have promised Lieutenant Bampfyld that he
shall do so.'
For the remainder of the ball Charke did not let a single dance pass
by without taking part in it, and allowed his friends to introduce him
right and left to any lady who happened to require a partner, though
reserving, of course, the one for which he was engaged to Bella at
what would be almost the end of the evening. In fact, as his friend
the Staff-Commander said, 'he let himself go pretty considerably,' and
he so far exemplified that gentleman's remark that he took in to
supper one of the plainest of those middle-aged ladies who happened to
be gracing the ball with their presence.
Yet this lady found nothing whatever to complain of to herself (to her
friends she would have uttered no complaint of her cavalier, even
though he had been as stupid as an owl and as dumb as a stone, she
being a wary old campaigner), but, instead, thought him a charming
companion. Perhaps, too, she had good reason to do so, since, from the
moment he conducted her across the temporarily constructed bridge
which led from the Town Hall proper to the supper tent erected in a
vacant plot of ground, his conversation was full of smart sayings and
pleasant, though occasionally sub-acid, remarks on things in general.
Yet, naturally, it was impossible that she should know that the
undoubtedly bright and piquant conversation with which he entertained
her was partly produced by his bitterness at seeing Gilbert Bampfyld
and Bella enjoying themselves thoroughly at a table _à-deux_ close by
where he and his partner were seated, and partly by his stoical
determination to 'let things go.' And by, also, another determination
at which he had arrived--namely, to go to sea again at the very first
moment he could find a ship.