A SQUADRON IN THE DOWNS
“My dear girls, all your courage is gone,” said Admiral Darling to his
daughters at luncheon, that same Monday; “departed perhaps with Lord
Nelson and Frank. I hate the new style of such come-and-go visits, as
if there was no time for anything. Directly a man knows the ways of the
house, and you can take him easily, off he goes. Just like Hurry, he
never can stop quiet. He talks as if peace was the joy of his life, and
a quiet farm his paradise, and very likely he believes it. But my belief
is that a year of peace would kill him, now that he has made himself so
famous. When that sort of thing begins, it seems as if it must go on.”
“But, father dear,” exclaimed the elder daughter, “you could have done
every single thing that Lord Nelson has ever contrived to do, if you
had only happened to be there, and equally eager for destruction. I
have heard you say many times, though not of course before him, that you
could have managed the battle of the Nile considerably better than he
did. And instead of allowing the great vessel to blow up, you would have
brought her safe to Spithead.”
“My dear, you must have quite misunderstood me. Be sure that you never
express such opinions, which are entirely your own, in the presence
of naval officers. Though I will not say that they are quite without
foundation.”
“Why, papa,” cried Miss Dolly, who was very truthful, when her own
interests were not involved, “you have often said twice as much as that.
How well I remember having heard you say--”
“You young people always back up one another, and you don't care what
you make your poor father say. I wonder you don't vow that I declared
I could jump over the moon with my uniform on. But I'll tell you what
we'll do, to bring back your senses--we will go for a long ride this
fine afternoon. I've a great mind to go as far as Stonnington.”
“Now how many times have you told us that? I won't believe it till we
get there,” young Dolly answered, with her bright eyes full of joy. “You
must be ashamed of yourself, papa, for neglecting your old friend's son
so long.”
“Well, to tell you the truth, I am, my dear,” confessed the good-natured
Admiral; “but no one but myself has the least idea of the quantity of
things I have to do.”
“Exactly what old Swipes said this very morning, only much more
impressively. And I really did believe him, till I saw a yellow jug, and
a horn that holds a pint, in the summer-house. He threw his coat over
them, but it was too late.”
“Dolly, I shall have to put you in the blackhole. You belong too much
to the rising generation, or the upstart generation is the proper word.
What would Lord Nelson say? I must have him back again. He is the man
for strict discipline.”
“Oh, I want to ask one thing about my great godfather. You know he only
came down with one portmanteau, and his cocked-hat box, and two hampers.
But when I went into his bedroom to see, as a goddaughter should, that
his pillow was smooth, there he had got tacked up at the head of his
bed a picture of some very beautiful lady, and another at the side, and
another at the foot! And Jenny Shanks, who couldn't help peeping in, to
see how a great hero goes to sleep, wishes that she may be an old maid
forever if she did not see him say his prayers to them. Now the same
fate befall me if I don't find out who it is. You must know, papa, so
you had better tell at once.”
“That hussy shall leave the house tomorrow. I never heard of anything so
shameless. Mrs. Cloam seems to have no authority whatever. And you
too, Dolly, had no business there. If any one went to see the room
comfortable, it should have been Faith, as the lady of the house. Ever
since you persuaded me that you were too old for a governess, you seem
to be under no discipline at all.”
“Now you know that you don't mean that, papa. You say those cruel things
just to make me kiss you,” cried Dolly, with the action suited to the
word, and with her bright hair falling upon his snowy beard the father
could not help returning the salute; “but I must know who that lady is.
And what can he want with three pictures of her?”
“How should I know, Dolly? Perhaps it is his mother, or perhaps it is
the Queen of Naples, who made a Duke of him for what he did out there.
Now be quick, both of you, or no ride to-day. It is fifteen long miles
to Stonnington, I am sure, and I am not going to break my neck. As
it is, we must put dinner off till half past six, and we shall all be
starved by that time. Quick, girls, quick! I can only give you twenty
minutes.”
The Admiral, riding with all the vigor of an ancient mariner, looked
well between his two fair daughters, as they turned their horses' heads
inland, and made over the downs for Stonnington. Here was beautiful
cantering ground, without much furze or many rabbit-holes, and lovely
air flowing over green waves of land, to greet and to deepen the rose
upon young cheeks. Behind them was the broad sea, looking steadfast,
and spread with slowly travelling tints; before them and around lay the
beauty of the earth, with the goodness of the sky thrown over it. The
bright world quivered with the breath of spring, and her smile was shed
on everything.
“What a lovely country we have been through! I should like to come here
every day,” said Faith, as they struck into the London road again. “If
Stonnington is as nice as this, Mr. Scudamore must be happy there.”
“Well, we shall see,” her father answered. “My business has been upon
the coast so much, that I know very little about Stonnington. But
Scudamore has such a happy nature that nothing would come much amiss to
him. You know why he is here, of course?”
“No, I don't, papa. You are getting so mysterious that you never tell us
anything now,” replied Dolly. “I only know that he was in the navy, and
now he is in a grammar school. The last time I saw him he was about a
yard high.”
“He is a good bit short of two yards now,” said the Admiral, smiling as
he thought of him, “but quite tall enough for a sailor, Dolly, and the
most active young man I ever saw in my life, every inch of him sound and
quick and true. I shall think very little of your judgment unless you
like him heartily; not at first, perhaps, because he is so shy, but as
soon as you begin to know him. I mean to ask him to come down as soon
as he can get a holiday. His captain told me, when he served in the
Diomede, that there was not a man in the ship to come near him for
nimbleness and quiet fearlessness.”
“Then what made him take to his books again? Oh, how terribly dull he
must find them! Why, that must be Stonnington church, on the hill!”
“Yes, and the old grammar school close by. I was very near going there
once myself, but they sent me to Winchester instead. It was partly
through me that he got his berth here, though not much to thank me for,
I am afraid. Sixty pounds a year and his rations isn't much for a man
who has been at Cambridge. But even that he could not get in the navy
when the slack time came last year. He held no commission, like many
other fine young fellows, but had entered as a first-class volunteer.
And so he had no rating when this vile peace was patched up--excuse me,
my dear, what I meant to say was, when the blessings of tranquillity
were restored. And before that his father, my dear old friend, died very
suddenly, as you have heard me say, without leaving more than would bury
him. Don't talk any more of it. It makes me sad to think of it.”
“But,” persisted Dolly, “I could never understand why a famous man like
Sir Edmond Scudamore--a physician in large practice, and head doctor to
the King, as you have often told us--could possibly have died in that
sort of way, without leaving any money, or at least a quantity of
valuable furniture and jewels. And he had not a number of children,
papa, to spend all his money, as I do yours, whenever I get the chance;
though you are growing so dreadfully stingy now that I never can look
even decent.”
“My dear, it is a very long sad story. Not about my stinginess, I
mean--though that is a sad story, in another sense, but will not move my
compassion. As to Sir Edmond, I can only tell you now that, while he was
a man of great scientific knowledge, he knew very little indeed of money
matters, and was not only far too generous, but what is a thousand
times worse, too trustful. Being of an honorable race himself, and an
honorable sample of it, he supposed that a man of good family must be
a gentleman; which is not always the case. He advanced large sums of
money, and signed bonds for a gentleman, or rather a man of that rank,
whose name does not concern you; and by that man he was vilely betrayed;
and I would rather not tell you the rest of it. Poor Blyth had to leave
Cambridge first, where he was sure to have done very well indeed, and at
his wish he was sent afloat, where he would have done even better; and
then, as his father's troubles deepened, and ended in his death of heart
complaint, the poor boy was left to keep his broken-hearted mother upon
nothing but a Latin Grammar. And I fear it is like a purser's dip. But
here we are at Stonnington--a long steep pitch. Let us slacken sail, my
dears, as we have brought no cockswain. Neither of you need land, you
know, but I shall go into the schoolroom.”
“One thing I want to know,” said the active-minded Dolly, as the horses
came blowing their breath up the hill: “if his father was Sir Edmond,
and he is the only child, according to all the laws of nature, he ought
to be Sir Blyth Scudamore.”
“It shows how little you have been out--as good Mrs. Twemlow expresses
it--that you do not even understand the laws of nature as between a
baronet and a knight.”
“Oh, to be sure; I recollect! How very stupid of me! The one goes on,
and the other doesn't, after the individual stops. But whose fault is
it that I go out so little? So you see you are caught in your own trap,
papa.”