Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Missing Merchantman
By Harry Collingwood
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Harry Collingwood is a superlatively good writer of books about the sea
because he was himself a working designer of ships, and a shipwright.
This makes his style extremely authoritative.
In this book the crew of a vessel, meaning in this case the deckhands,
got it into their heads that the captain and officers of merchant
vessels were paid far too much, and that ordinary deckhands ought to be
paid on the same scale. In other hands they had been "robbed of fair
wages" for hundreds of years. They quite forgot the education and skill
that goes into the training of an officer, as well as the taking of
responsibility. So they take the ship, making themselves essentially
into pirates. The officers and passengers, being resourceful people,
manage somehow to work their way out of this predicament, and eventually
to bring their ship back home, where she had been posted as "Missing"
for some considerable time.
As always with this author the book makes an excellent audiobook.
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THE MISSING MERCHANTMAN
BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD
CHAPTER ONE.
INTRODUCTORY.
This story opens on a glorious day about the middle of July; and
Weymouth, with its charming bay, was looking its very best. A gentle
southerly breeze was blowing; the air was clear--just warm enough to
render a dip in the sea the quintessence of luxury--and so laden with
ozone and the wholesome scent of the sea that to breathe it was like
imbibing a draught of _elixir vitae_. The east land was in itself a
picture as it stretched across the horizon in front of the town, its
lofty chalk-cliffs and swelling downs, the latter dotted here and there
with a solitary farm-house or a clump of trees, gleaming softly through
the clear transparent atmosphere in a thousand varied hues of green, and
creamy white, and ruddy neutral, which gradually merged into a series of
delicate pearly-greys as the eye followed the bold outline to where
Saint Alban's Head sloped down into the azure sea. The noble bay,
gently ruffled by the morning breeze, shimmered and sparkled brilliantly
in the strong unclouded sunlight, its rippling wavelets chasing each
other shoreward in long lines until they plashed with a soothing murmur
into mimic breakers upon the broad, smooth, firm expanse of sand,
whereon happy children were disporting themselves, bare-footed, with
boat, and spade, and bucket, to their innocent hearts' content.
The proprietors of the bathing-vans were doing an excellent business,
their lumbering vehicles jolting noisily down into the water with
scarcely a moment's intermission. The band, drawn up in front of the
hideous statue to George the Fourth, which so greatly disfigures the
town, was discoursing, fairly well, a selection of good music; a long
line of chairs on the sands was fully occupied by loungers, mostly
ladies, reading, or amusing themselves by watching the antics of the
thronging children; the broad promenade was crowded with people on
pleasure bent. Light skiffs and neat well-appointed sailing boats were
darting hither and thither along the surface of the glancing waters; and
farther out, at a distance of about a mile from the shore, some half-a-
dozen or more yachts of various rigs and tonnage were lying at anchor,
with their club burgees gaily fluttering in the breeze, and most of them
with mainsail hoisted, or with other preparations actively going forward
toward getting under weigh for a day's cruise.
The delightful little watering-place, it has been said, was looking its
best; or at least this was the opinion expressed by a young man who,
accompanied by his father and sister, walked up the esplanade on that
particular morning, on his way to the railway-station _en route_ for
London by the ten o'clock South-Western express--his luggage having
preceded him on a hand-truck.
As the young man happens to be the hero of the present story, it may not
be amiss to describe him somewhat particularly.
Edward Damerell, then--for that was his name--was, at the date of our
introduction to him, within a month of reaching his nineteenth year; and
he had hoped to spend his birthday at home with his father and sister,
the only relatives he possessed on earth, but circumstances had ordered
it otherwise. He stood just five feet seven inches in his stockings;
was as stout-built and shapely a youth as one need wish to see, though
it was evident that he had not yet attained his full growth; his frank,
handsome, albeit sunburnt face was lighted up by a pair of keen, honest
grey eyes and crowned by a close-cut crop of crisp, curly, flaxen hair--
a good-tempered, pleasant-looking fellow enough, true as steel, brave as
true, and, having been already three years at sea, as smart a seaman as
ever trod a plank.
His father was his exact counterpart, with the comparatively trifling
difference that he was not quite so tall as Ned; was broader in the
beam, and, as of course might be expected, much older-looking, though
the appearance of age was due principally to the grey with which his
hair and bushy whiskers (which latter appendages, by the by, Ned was
still without) was thickly dashed; the old gentleman's eye being as keen
and bright as his son's, and his step almost as springy.
Edward Damerell, senior, it may be as well to mention, was a naval
lieutenant, retired upon half-pay. He had seen a great deal of service
in his youth, principally on the West Coast of Africa and in the China
seas, and had been fairly fortunate in the matter of acquiring prize-
money--to which circumstance he was indebted for the exceedingly
comfortable little cottage on the hill overlooking Newton's Cove, which
he had inhabited for some twenty-five years, having purchased and
settled down in it upon his marriage and retirement from the service.
His daughter Eva was a beautiful girl, as good as she was beautiful, and
the very apple of her father's eye--which is all that need be said of
her, as she plays no part in the events which it is the purpose of this
narrative to chronicle.
Young Edward Damerell, born and brought up within sight and sound of the
sea, early manifested a natural desire to tread in his father's
footsteps by following the same profession. To this the old gentleman
made no very serious objection, but he would not hear of his son
entering the navy. The service, he insisted, had been ruined by the
introduction of steam and armour-plates. Moreover, he had discovered,
to his cost, that without money and influence, and plenty of both, a man
stood but little chance, in these piping times of peace, of making any
great amount of headway up the ratlins of promotion. "So," said he, "if
Ned chooses to go to sea, he will have to enter the merchant service,
where good seamen are still, and always will be, required."
And this Ned did under the most advantageous circumstances, as
"midshipman-apprentice" on board an Australian clipper belonging to the
"Bruce" line, in which employ he was duly serving his time--very
creditably, indeed, to himself and to the officers who had the training
of him, if the report of the skipper, Captain Blyth, was to be believed.
And he was now, on this particular morning, leaving home once more,
after a month's leave, to join a brand-new steel-built clipper called
the _Flying Cloud_, the latest addition to the "Bruce" fleet, of which
ship Captain Blyth had been given the command.
As the lad arrived opposite King Street, the point where he would have
to turn off and leave the esplanade and the "front," as the inhabitants
term it, he paused a moment, looked longingly to right and left of him
at the long terraces of neat houses facing the sea, at the "Nothe" on
the opposite side of the harbour, at the sands, the bay, and the long
stretch of bold coast to the northward and eastward, and sighed
regretfully at the thought that he was about to leave the place once
more for so long a time. He was enthusiastically attached to his
profession--as every lad must be if he would make his way in the world--
but he was also attached to the place of his birth, and infinitely more
was he attached to his father and sister; and though he was too manly to
express sorrow at his departure, the feeling was there and would not be
altogether ignored. It was, therefore, with but an indifferently
successful assumption of cheerfulness that he exclaimed:
"Well, good-bye, old town! Who knows how many weary leagues I shall
have to travel, and through what hardships and perils I may have to
pass, before I tread your streets again!"
And, linking his arms in those of his father and sister, he crossed the
road and passed down the street to the railway-station.
Poor Ned! when he spoke so lightly he little knew that the words had so
prophetic a meaning.
In due course he arrived in London, and, chartering a cab, made the best
of his way to his new ship, which was taking in cargo in the London
Docks. On arriving alongside his first act was naturally to give a
scrutinising look at the craft and to mentally compare her with the
_Bride of Abydos_, his former ship; and much as he thought of the
latter, he was almost reluctantly compelled to admit that the _Flying
Cloud_ greatly excelled her in every point most highly prized by a
seaman. She was the very latest exponent of the shipbuilder's art, and
of the success which has attended the efforts of the naval architect to
combine, in the highest degree, a large carrying capacity with perfect
sea-going powers and super-excellence in point of speed. She was just a
nice, comfortable, handy size--twelve hundred tons register--steel-
built, and of exceptional strength, classed 100 A1 at Lloyd's; a beamy
rather than a deep vessel, with very fine ends. And an innovation had
been introduced in her construction in the shape of a pair of deep
bilge-keels, which her designer asserted would not only very greatly
modify her rolling, but would also cause her to hang to windward like a
yacht. She was an exceptionally pretty model, with a full poop, and was
full-rigged, her stability being most satisfactorily demonstrated by the
fact that her skysail-yards were aloft and crossed notwithstanding the
circumstance that she had only just begun to receive her cargo. She was
painted grey, with a broad white riband and painted ports, her top-sides
being black. She carried a very handsome, well-executed carving of a
woman, with long, streaming hair and fluttering drapery, under her
bowsprit, by way of figurehead; and Ned noted with deep satisfaction,
that instead of the double topsail-yards now so common in large ships,
she was fitted with single revolving yards for patent reefing topsails.
He was interrupted in the midst of his admiring scrutiny by a hail from
Mr Bryce, the chief-mate, who, after a somewhat off-hand welcome,
informed him that he was wanted to assist in receiving and taking
account of the cargo, which was coming down too rapidly to be dealt with
by one man. Stowing away his "dunnage," therefore, in the after deck-
house, and flinging his bedding into the berth which he selected for his
own occupation, he quickly rejoined the mate, who furnished him with
book and pencil, and stationed him at the after hatchway to take account
of everything which passed down that receptacle.
As soon as the work of the day was over and the hatches had been put on
and secured, Ned made his way to Captain Blyth's lodgings, and reported
himself as having returned to duty.
He had observed, with some surprise, that the stevedores had left a
large vacant space in the centre of the main hatchway, and at the very
bottom of the ship; and he had once or twice wondered, during the course
of the afternoon, what could be the nature of the cargo for which this
space was being reserved. That it must be something heavy he knew, from
the fact that the bottom of the hold had been selected for its stowage.
The secret, however (if secret there was), came out next morning, when
several very heavy cases of peculiar shape were brought alongside; which
cases turned out to contain twelve steel 14-pounder breech-loading
rifled field-pieces, with mountings, etcetera, complete, and several
hundred rifles, sword-bayonets, etcetera, for the use of the colonial
volunteers. The nature and destination of the contents were legibly
enough set forth in stencilled lettering on the outside of the cases,
and they very naturally attracted a considerable amount of curiosity as
they were carefully hoisted out of the trucks and lowered into the
ship's hold. Among the onlookers Ned soon noticed a swarthy-
complexioned man, who wore gold rings in his ears, and was dressed in a
very natty suit of dark blue cloth--evidently a seaman in shore-going
togs--who manifested quite an unusual amount of interest in the cases
and their handling, and who finally climbed into the trucks and lent a
hand in the slinging of them, exhibiting in the performance of his self-
imposed task a very considerable amount of smartness and seamanlike
dexterity. And when the cases were all at length safely deposited in
their destined place on the dunnage in the bottom of the hold, the man
was observed narrowly scrutinising the ship herself--hull, spars, and
rigging--with just that appearance of intelligent and appreciative
interest which a smart seaman would be likely to bestow upon so handsome
and well-appointed a craft as was the _Flying Cloud_.
The cargo came alongside with very satisfactory rapidity, and on the
morning of the eighth day from that on which Ned joined, hopes were
entertained that the evening would see the loading of the ship completed
and the hatches put on for good and all. The swarthy-complexioned man
had been seen on the quay alongside two or three times since the loading
of the guns. He had evidently taken a fancy to the ship; and Ned was
therefore by no means surprised when, on the morning in question, he
again appeared, and, seeing Captain Blyth on the poop, stepped on board,
and approaching the skipper asked if the crew had all been shipped.
They had not, as it happened; so, after a short conversation, which
seemed to give complete satisfaction to both parties concerned, the man
was instructed to present himself at noon that day at the shipping
office to sign articles.
"Rather a smart fellow, that," observed the skipper to the chief-mate,
as the man swung himself lightly on to the rail and stepped thence
ashore. "I'm very glad to have fallen in with him; he is an A.B., and
has been twice round the Horn, so he ought to know his business. And he
tells me that there are five other men, former shipmates of his, and
good, smart, active, willing men, staying at the same boarding-house
with himself, who, he believes, will be willing to ship with us for the
voyage; so I hope we shall have a good crew."
Mr Bryce assented, and dutifully echoed the skipper's wish; but it was
with a tone and manner which seemed to indicate that he did not feel
very greatly interested in the matter; and Captain Blyth, when he went
ashore shortly afterwards, felt more than ever sorry that his former
mates were not to be with him on the forthcoming voyage. For, it must
be explained, the late chief-mate of the _Bride of Abydos_ had been
promoted to the post of master of that ship--or _captain_, as the
masters of merchant ships like to be called--and the second-mate had met
with an accident, and was lying disabled in an hospital. However, it
could not be helped, and Captain Blyth was obliged to content himself
with the hope that Mr Bryce--who had come to him with a very good
recommendation--would turn out to be a better chief-mate than, at the
moment, seemed likely.
The _Flying Cloud's_ crew were shipped that day, and they comprised a
second-mate, a steward, a cook, a carpenter, a sailmaker, a boatswain
and boatswain's-mate, eight A.B.'s (or able seamen), including the
swarthy man--whose name, by the way, was entered upon the articles as
Joshua Williams--and his five shipmates, and ten ordinary seamen.
These, with the captain, chief-mate, and four midshipmen-apprentices,
made up a crew of thirty-one, all told; which, exclusive of the captain,
cook, steward, carpenter, and sailmaker, neither of whom kept watch,
made up a crew of thirteen hands in a watch, none too many for a full-
rigged ship of the size of the _Flying Cloud_, with such a spread of
canvas as she could show to the breeze.
During the afternoon Ned made a little journey up into the Minories, to
the studio of a clever marine artist to whom he had given a commission
to paint the portrait of the ship; and when he reached the place he was
much gratified to find that not only was the picture finished, but also
that it was a capital representation of the _Flying Cloud_ as she would
appear at sea under all plain sail upon a taut bowline. Her ensign was
shown flying from the peak; the house-flag--a large square white flag,
with blue border, blue Saint Andrew's cross, and a large letter B in red
in the centre--floated from the main-skysail-mast-head, and her number
from the mizen, in response to a signal from another ship seen in the
distance. It was a very spirited picture, and as Ned paid down its
price, and gave instructions for its immediate despatch to his father's
address, he felt that the money had been well laid out.
The hatches were put on, and, with the exception of the after-hatch,
battened down that evening; and, whilst this was being done, Captain
Blyth made his appearance on board, accompanied by a friend, a certain
Captain Spence, who had been invited to take a farewell glass of wine in
the _Flying Cloud's_ saloon. Captain Spence was in command of a very
fine ship, named the _Southern Cross_, some two hundred tons larger than
the _Flying Cloud_. She also was in the Australian trade; and though
the two ships belonged to rival lines, and there was intense emulation
between the skippers of the "Bruce" and the "Constellation" clippers,
Captains Blyth and Spence were old and sincere friends, and the rivalry
between them was all in good part. They had long been secretly anxious
to have a fair race together; but hitherto circumstances had been
against them. Now, however, their opportunity had come, for the
_Southern Cross_ had also been loading in the London docks for
Melbourne, the port to which the _Flying Cloud_ was bound, and, like the
latter, was to haul out of dock with the morrow's tide; and the two
skippers had each made a bet of a new hat that his own ship would make
the passage from Gravesend to Port Phillip Heads in a less number of
hours than the other, which bet was now to be ratified over their
parting glass of wine. The _Southern Cross_, however, would get the
start by about one day, as the _Flying Cloud_ was to call at Tilbury
Fort to take on board a quantity of ammunition for the guns and rifles
which she was carrying out, and Captain Spence was cherishing an inward
hope that a fine easterly breeze which had been blowing for some days
would carry him well down channel and then chop round from the southward
in good time to baffle his old friend during the passage of the _Flying
Cloud_ through the Downs. A somewhat curious and amusing characteristic
of the friendly rivalry between the skippers was that, whilst each
implicitly believed in his own ship, he affected a faith in the superior
qualities of the other, and framed his remarks accordingly. So when the
little farewell chat and the parting bottle of wine had come to an end,
and Captain Spence rose to go, he held out his hand with:
"Well, good-bye, Blyth, and a pleasant passage to you. You will catch
us somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Line, I expect, if not before;
and, should the weather be fine, I hope you will come on board and dine
with me, and make the acquaintance of my passengers, who, I assure you,
seem to be very capital people."
"Thank you very much," was the response; "but you know very well that
this poor little ship has no chance whatever with such a spanking craft
as the _Southern Cross_. Look how deep we are in the water; and we
don't even know our proper trim. Then, too, the glass seems inclined to
drop a little, which probably means that the wind is going to haul round
from the southward, which, with the twenty-four hours' start you will
have, will carry you down channel nicely enough, whilst we shall be hung
up in the Downs. So that, altogether, I consider you ought to reach
Melbourne about eight days, at least, ahead of us, which will give you
ample time to tell them that we are coming."
And so, with mutual protestations of disbelief in each other's
prognostications, the rival skippers laughingly shook hands and parted.
On the following morning the two ships hauled out of dock, the _Southern
Cross_ leading, and proceeded down the river in tow, the one anchoring
off Gravesend to take her passengers on board, whilst the other went
alongside the wharf at Tilbury Fort. The ammunition was all ready for
shipment, as it happened; and, securely packed in copper-lined cases,
was that same afternoon carefully stowed on top of all in the after
hatchway, whence, if necessary, it could be easily and quickly removed
and launched overboard in case of an outbreak of fire. The _Southern
Cross_, meanwhile, with her tug hanging on to her, had only paused long
enough to allow of her captain going on shore and fetching off her
passengers, when she had proceeded. The _Flying Cloud_, on the other
hand, having now completed her cargo, and battened down everything,
shifted her berth and anchored off Gravesend pier; but, as it had not
been expected that she would receive quite such quick despatch at
Tilbury, the passengers would not be on board until the following
morning, so there was no alternative but to wait for them. In the
meantime there was plenty for the crew to do in getting the decks
cleaned up and everything made ship-shape; and this task was so
satisfactorily performed, under the supervision of the mates, that
Captain Blyth's spirits rose, and he began to hope that he had secured
not only a good crew, but good officers as well. He was also
particularly pleased to notice that the steerage passengers--twelve in
number, all men, who had joined the ship in the docks on the preceding
evening--though a rough-looking lot, were scarcely as bad as they
looked, evincing a distinct inclination to make themselves useful and to
assist the crew as much as possible.
On the following morning, directly after breakfast, Captain Blyth
proceeded on shore in his gig to look up his passengers; and about ten
o'clock they were seen approaching the ship, a shore-boat being in
attendance with the trunks, portmanteaux, etcetera, which contained
their immediate necessaries (the bulk of their luggage having been sent
on board whilst the ship was in dock). Upon this, the windlass was at
once manned, the cable hove short, and the tug signalled to come
alongside and take the tow-rope. These preparations were still actively
in progress when the two boats pulled alongside the ship; and by the
time that the passengers had reached the decks and their luggage had
been passed up, the tug had received the tow-rope and had passed ahead,
and the anchor was reported ready for tripping. The shore-boat was then
discharged, the gig hoisted up, the windlass was again manned, the
paddles of the tug began to revolve, the anchor was broken out of the
ground, and the long voyage had at length actually commenced.
The saloon passengers were seven in number (quite a pleasant little
family party, Captain Blyth averred), and they consisted of a Doctor and
Mrs Henderson, with their daughter, Lucille, aged six; Miss Sibylla
Stanhope, Mrs Henderson's sister; Mr and Mrs Gaunt, and their son,
Percy, aged seven.
Dr Henderson was a medical man who, notwithstanding his undoubted
ability, had found it difficult to establish a satisfactory practice in
England, and was therefore going to try his fortune in the southern
hemisphere, taking his family and his wife's orphan sister with him; and
Mr Gaunt was a civil engineer on his way to the colony to take up a
lucrative professional appointment. They were both clever, quiet,
unassuming men, very gentlemanly in manner, but with nothing
particularly striking in their appearance; the kind of men, in fact, of
whom it is impossible to predict whether they will, in case of
emergency, turn out to be heroes or mere useless incumbrances.
The ladies were very much more interesting. Mrs Henderson was a very
handsome, dark-eyed young matron of medium height, and a temper as
perfect as her form; in short, a very charming person altogether. Miss
Stanhope bore a very marked resemblance to her sister, except that she
was much younger, being barely eighteen years of age; but there were not
wanting indications that her charms would one day even surpass those of
the lovely Mrs Henderson Mrs Gaunt was a _petite_ blonde, very pretty
and engaging, and an excellent foil to Mrs Henderson, the two ladies
being of exactly opposite types of beauty. Of the children no more need
be said than that they were light-hearted, joyous, and just well-behaved
enough to show that their parents did not intend to spoil them if it
could possibly be helped.
The first act of the saloon passengers, on reaching the deck, was to
inquire for their respective cabins, of which they at once took
possession, and forthwith set about arranging in such manner as they
judged would prove most convenient during the long journey they had
before them. The trunks uncorded, and the heavier work done, the
gentlemen had it gently insinuated to them by their fair partners that
they were rather in the way than otherwise; and they accordingly
adjourned to the poop with the youngsters, where, over a cigar, they
soon made acquaintance with each other and with the ship's officers. By
luncheon-time they had mutually arrived at the conclusion that they were
likely to get on exceedingly well together, that the captain was a
capital fellow, the mates but so-so, the midshipmen very gentlemanly
lads, and the ship everything that could be wished; and that, on the
whole, they were justified in expecting the passage to be as pleasant as
it was likely to prove long. The ladies, meanwhile, had been busy
below, and had found time not only to convert their somewhat cramped
quarters into perfect bowers of comfort and convenience, but also to
follow the gentlemen's example, by cultivating mutually friendly
relations; so that when the little party sat down to luncheon they felt
almost as much at home with each other as though they had been
acquainted for the best part of their lives, instead of for a few hours
only.
CHAPTER TWO.
ON BOARD THE "FLYING CLOUD."
The weather was gloriously fine; much too fine, indeed, to suit Captain
Blyth, for, as he and his friend Captain Spence had foreseen, the
easterly breeze which had prevailed for so long had at length died
completely away, leaving the surface of the river as smooth as a sheet
of polished silver. The air had grown much warmer, a sure precursor of
a southerly wind; and the ladies had, in consequence, changed their
dresses immediately after luncheon, discarding the woollen fabrics in
which they had embarked and substituting for them dainty costumes of
cool, light, flimsy material, arrayed in which they established
themselves for the afternoon on the poop.
It was somewhat late that night when the _Flying Cloud_ rounded the
North Foreland; and, as Captain Blyth had feared, the little breeze
which had sprung up with the setting of the sun was all out from the
southward. There was, however, a capital moon, almost full; the tide,
too, was in their favour. So, instead of anchoring in the Downs until
next day, as had been his first intention, he determined to keep on; and
all sail was accordingly made upon the ship as soon as the tug had cast
off the tow-rope. A stretch was made across the channel towards the
French coast, in the direction of Gravelines; and great was the
satisfaction of all hands when they found that the ship, on a taut
bowline, and with only wind enough to heel her some six inches under
every stitch of plain sail they could set upon her, was slipping along
through the water at the rate of fully five knots, and that, too, so
cleanly that the ripple under the bows was inaudible to the men on the
forecastle unless they put their heads over the side and listened for
it, whilst scarcely a whirl or a bubble was to be seen in the long
smooth wake which she left behind her.
The breeze continued scant all night, notwithstanding which the _Flying
Cloud_ was, at eight o'clock next morning, as close to the French coast
as Captain Blyth cared to take her, and she was accordingly hove about,
the wind so far favouring her that it was confidently hoped she would
weather Beachy Head and so pass out clear of everything. With the
rising of the sun the wind gave promise of freshening, which promise was
so far fulfilled that by noon the ship was skimming along at a pace of
over nine knots an hour, she being at the time just abreast of Calais.
The breeze still increasing, and the tide being again in their favour,
Cape Grisnez was passed little more than an hour later; and then,
running out from under the lee of the land, the swell of the channel
almost immediately began to make itself felt. The full strength of the
wind at the same time also became apparent, and the ship, now heeling
over sufficiently to send the water spouting up through the scupper-
holes with every lee-roll, increased her pace to a fair, honest ten
knots, steering "full and by." Captain Blyth was simply enchanted with
the performance of his new command, feeling fully convinced (though he
did not yet venture to give utterance to his conviction) that in her,
that hitherto invincible clipper, the _Southern Cross_, would at length
assuredly find she had met her match. By three o'clock Dungeness was
broad on the lee-bow; by four o'clock it was fairly abaft the beam; and
when the passengers went on deck after dinner they found the ship in the
act of weathering Beachy, though without very much room to spare, the
wind evincing an inclination to veer round from the westward. At eight
o'clock next morning, when Ned came on deck to keep the forenoon watch,
he saw that he was on familiar ground, the ship being about midway
between Saint Catherine's Point and Saint Alban's Head, the high land at
the east end of the Isle of Wight looming like a white cloud on the
horizon astern, or rather on the starboard quarter, whilst Saint Alban's
gleamed brilliantly in the bright sunlight on the starboard bow. The
ship was still close-hauled on the larboard tack and going about six
knots, the wind having headed her somewhat during the night and fallen
lighter. The weather was magnificent, and everybody was in capital
spirits. Captain Blyth was pleased because, though the ship was not
just then travelling at any great speed, he had at all events got half-
way down the channel; the passengers were pleased because they were
having such a splendid view of the coast--with the prospect of getting a
still better view later on in the day, as Ned informed them--and most
pleased of all was Ned himself, because he not only looked forward to
getting one more glimpse of dear old Weymouth itself, but also hoped to
be able to make his near vicinity known to his father.
Noon found the _Flying Cloud_ abreast of Saint Alban's Head and within
half a mile of the shore; and, this bold promontory once rounded, all
hands found themselves face to face with that magnificent panorama of
rolling downs, smiling valleys, tiny strips of snow-white beach, and
lofty precipitous chalk-cliffs, which help to make the scenery of
Weymouth Bay one of the fairest prospects within the boundaries of the
British island.
The ship was reaching right down along the coast at a distance of little
more than two miles from the shore, and though it was now his watch
below, Ned undertook to point out the various objects of interest as
they crept into view, such as Warbarrow Bay, with Lulworth Castle
nestling among its surrounding trees; Lulworth Cove, with its bold,
rocky entrance; the noble natural archway of Durdle Door; the curious
Burning Cliff, and so on; and when they were off the latter he made bold
to ask Captain Blyth's permission to hoist the ship's colours,
explaining that he would like his father to see the vessel and to know
that he was so near at hand. Ned was a very great favourite with the
skipper; moreover, the latter and Ned's father were old friends. The
cheery answer given to this request, therefore, was:
"Yes, certainly, my lad; show our bunting by all means. We shall then
be reported as having passed, and the owners will be glad to learn that
we have crept so far on our way."
Armed with this permission Ned lost no time in getting out the flags and
hoisting them exactly as they were represented in the picture he had
sent to his father, and which he knew must be in the old gentleman's
possession by this time.
That afternoon old Mr Damerell and his daughter were, according to
their usual custom, on the Nothe, Eva with a piece of dainty embroidery
work wherewith to amuse herself, and her father with his somewhat
ancient but trusty telescope, without which, indeed, he was scarcely
ever seen out of doors. They had hardly reached the old gentleman's
favourite point of look-out when his quick eye detected the ship
reaching down along the east land, and even before he had adjusted the
telescope he had a presentiment that she might be the _Flying Cloud_.
He had received a hastily-scribbled line or two from Ned--forwarded by
means of the shore-boat, which had taken off the passengers' luggage at
Gravesend--which had made him acquainted with the day and hour of the
ship's sailing; and his long experience and intimate acquaintance with
the navigation of the Channel, aided by his habitual observation of the
weather, enabled him to follow the subsequent movements of the _Flying
Cloud_ almost as unerringly as though his eye had been on her the whole
time. In one particular only had his calculations been inaccurate, and
that was in the _speed_ of the ship; he had not reckoned on her being
either so fast or so weatherly as she had proved to be, and his
reckoning located her as being at that moment within sight of but to the
eastward of the Wight. When, however, he saw a large ship, loaded, and
evidently by the course she was steering, bound out of the channel, and
when he further noted the clean, white, new appearance of the stranger's
canvas, the peculiar painting of her hull, and the very marked
similarity of appearance which she bore to the picture at that moment
hanging in the place of honour on the walls of his snug little parlour,
he was quite prepared to admit a possible error in his calculations
sufficient to account for the appearance of the ship where she actually
was; and when he saw the colours hoisted, he had, of course, no further
doubt upon the matter. The ship, it is true, was heading so obliquely
towards him that he could only see the house-flag at her main-skysail-
mast-head; but that was quite sufficient. The broad snow-white field,
the blue border and cross, and the large red B in the centre, were
plainly distinguishable through his telescope; and turning to his
daughter he said, with just a faint tremor of excitement in his voice:
"Eva, do you see that ship reaching down under the east land, yonder?"
"The one you have been watching so intently, father? Yes, I see her,"
was the reply. "What a noble object she looks, with her white canvas
gleaming in the sun! It is not often that we see such large ships as
that so close in with the land, is it? I wonder where she is going!"
"She is bound to Melbourne. She is called the _Flying Cloud_, and she
has a young gentleman named Edward Damerell on board her, who, I'll be
bound, is at this moment intently looking in this direction," answered
the old gentleman decisively.
"Oh, father, you can't mean it!" exclaimed the young lady impetuously,
though she knew very well that her father _did_ mean it. "Pray let us
make haste down to the boat and go out to meet him."
Her father looked irresolute, took another glance at the ship, then
shook his head sorrowfully.
"It would be of no use, my dear," he said. "Before we could reach the
boat and get her under weigh yonder ship will have tacked, and fast as
the _Eva_ is she would never catch her in this light breeze. No; we
must be satisfied to remain here and see as much of the _Flying Cloud_
as we can. Perhaps when the ship goes about we may even succeed in
catching a glimpse of dear Ned himself through the glass."
At this moment the loud clanging of a bell, which was being rung
somewhere down in the harbour, smote noisily upon their ears.
"The very thing!" exclaimed Eva, starting eagerly to her feet. "Come,
father, we have not a moment to lose! That is the first bell. The
_Victoria_ is to make an excursion to the Bill this afternoon, and if we
go on the trip we shall surely pass not very far from Ned's ship."
"Capital!" exclaimed the old man cheerily. "Come along, my girl; we are
neither of us rigged exactly in a style suited to our mingling with
swells; but never mind, we shall both pass muster, I dare say, and,
whether or no, we have no time to shift our canvas."
And away went the pair, without more ado, making the best of their way
toward the steps which lead down the side of the hill to the quay,
whence they took a boat across the harbour, the second bell from the
steamer admonishing them that they had no time to spare. They reached
the pay-gate in good time, however, took their tickets, and ascended to
the hurricane-deck just as the captain of the boat climbed to his own
private bridge. The last bell rang, a few belated excursionists came
rushing breathlessly down, and whilst they were scrambling for their
tickets the _Flying Cloud_, now within two miles of the town, was seen
to tack. The laggards hurried on board, the gang-plank was drawn
ashore, the ropes were cast off, the engines made a revolution or two
astern to cant the steamer's head toward the centre of the harbour, and
then away the excursion party went, the band on board at the same moment
striking up a lively tune.
By the time that the _Victoria_ had reached the harbour's mouth Mr
Damerell was able to see that they had started at exactly the right
time. The _Flying Cloud_--a beautiful sight, as she now appeared
broadside-on to them, reaching across the bay, with the afternoon sun
gleaming brilliantly upon her immense spread of canvas--was slipping
along through the water at a speed of about six knots, and it was
apparent she would pass the breakwater-end at about the same moment as
the _Victoria_. But the excursion steamer's usual course was through
the opening in the breakwater, and not out round its end; and if she now
took that direction the trip would be spoiled, so far, at least, as Mr
Damerell and his daughter were concerned. The old gentleman looked
round, and saw that Captain Cosens, the veteran commodore of the little
pleasure fleet, was in command, and to him he determined to make his
wishes known. The captain was talking to some of his lady passengers
when Mr Damerell approached him, but looked up at once and spoke on
recognising an old friend.
"Good-morning, Mr Damerell," said he. "What fair wind blows you on
board the _Victoria_? It is not often that you favour us with your
company. A noble vessel that, isn't she?" indicating the _Flying
Cloud_. "I take it she is an Australian liner."
"Yes," said Mr Damerell, "that is the _Flying Cloud_, my son's ship,
you know, Captain--"
"What! your son aboard?" interrupted the commodore. "Starboard, Tom,
starboard a bit, boy! and pass as close to leeward of that ship as you
safely can. It's not often we have the opportunity to treat our
passengers to a sight of a clipper under all plain sail, so, as the
water is smooth, and we can do so with safety, we will do it to-day; it
will be something of a novelty for them. And perhaps," he added, his
kindly grey eyes beaming sympathetically, "you may be able to get
another glimpse of Ned as we pass. Come upon my bridge, Mr Damerell,
you will see better, and he will see you all the quicker too."
The ship and the steamer now rapidly approached each other; and soon
after passing the breakwater-end, the latter shot across the stern of
the former and ranged up on her lee quarter. The word to "ease her" was
passed below into the _Victoria's_ engine-room; and Mr Damerell and Eva
had the opportunity of not only seeing, but also of exchanging a few
words with Ned, who had soon espied them on the steamer's bridge, and
had placed himself in the mizen-rigging for the purpose. The pleasure
party on board the steamer were meanwhile thoroughly enjoying the
unwonted sight which the _Flying Cloud_ presented, with her ponderous
but shapely hull, lavishly adorned with gilding at the bow and stern;
her clean, well-ordered decks resplendent with glittering brass-work,
and polished teak and mahogany fittings; her handsome boats, fresh
painted, with the house-flag emblazoned on their bows, and canvas covers
neatly lashed over them from gunwale to gunwale; the lofty masts, the
orderly but intricate maze of standing and running-rigging; and the
towering spread of canvas which seemed to reach almost to the clouds.
Many of them had never in their lives before seen a ship of any size
under her canvas and fairly at sea; and now they were brought into close
proximity with one which was not only "a clipper," but, as the affable
captain of the steamer explained to his numerous questioners, one of the
finest, if not the largest, of that class of vessels afloat. The little
group of passengers on the poop, seemingly so thoroughly comfortable and
so completely at home, naturally attracted a considerable amount of
attention, the children especially; and one enthusiastic lady on board
the steamer was so completely carried away by the influences of the
moment, that she tossed to little Percy Gaunt a basket of freshly-
gathered flowers which she happened to have with her, which the little
fellow deftly caught, and with a laughing "Thank you very much!" at once
handed to his mother. Then, the brief conversation between father and
son being brought to an end, the signal for "full speed" was given, and
the steamer drew ahead, the band on board playing "A life on the ocean
wave," and the vessels separated with much waving of hats and
handkerchiefs on both sides. The steamer was of course the first to
reach the Bill, the _Flying Cloud_ being partially becalmed under the
high land of Portland; and when the pleasure party again passed her, it
was at a distance of about a mile, the ship steering a course which
would take her well clear of the Shambles shoal.
"Bill," said Captain Cosens, when the two vessels were again abreast,
"jump aft, my lad, and dip the ensign!"
The ensign was dipped three times, the salutation being promptly
responded to by the clipper; and then her colours were hauled down as,
catching a freshening breeze, she gracefully inclined to it, and swept
grandly out to seaward.
Such was Mr Damerell's last farewell to his son, on this eventful
occasion at least. Poor old gentleman! well was it for him that he so
little dreamed of what that son was destined to pass through before they
two again should meet! Little, as they lost sight of her, did the
light-hearted throng on board the _Victoria_ guess at the horrors of
which that noble ship was to be the theatre.
On clearing the Bill of Portland, and once more getting the true breeze,
it was found by those on board the _Flying Cloud_ that the wind had
veered some points further to the westward, and was now almost dead in
the teeth of their course down channel. There was a red-hot ebb tide
running, however, which was so much in their favour, and Captain Blyth
held on upon the same tack, pushing out toward mid-channel so as to get
the full benefit of it. The ship was heading well up to windward of the
Channel Islands, so that she was not doing at all badly; and the wind
having veered so far, the skipper was in hopes it would veer still
further, and so give him a favourable slant down channel after his next
reach in for the land. Nor was he disappointed; for tacking at six
o'clock to avoid the flood, which he knew would soon be making, he found
himself, at ten o'clock that night, some four miles to the westward of
Beer Head, the wind heading him more and more as he drew in with the
land. On again tacking, it was found that the ship was heading well up
for the Start, which was passed about four bells in the morning watch;
when, feeling themselves at length safe for a fair run out of the
channel, the ship's departure was taken, together with a small pull upon
the weather braces. A course was given the helmsman which would carry
the ship well clear of Cape Finisterre, and away went the _Flying Cloud_
to the southward and westward, reeling eleven knots off the log with all
three skysails set. By three o'clock in the afternoon, Captain Blyth's
reckoning placed the ship off Ushant. They now began to feel the
regular Atlantic roll, and shortly afterwards the wind, continuing to
veer, worked round so far to the northward of west, that they were not
only enabled to get another good pull upon the weather braces, but also
to set studding-sails on the starboard side, when away went the ship
plunging and rolling across the Bay of Biscay at a pace which amply
justified her name, and sent all hands into ecstasies of delight. And
the climax of their happiness was reached when, just about sunset, a
large steamer, which had been in sight ahead since noon, was
triumphantly overhauled and passed, though she, like themselves, was
under all the canvas she could show. Captain Blyth was simply in a
beatitude of bliss; he walked the poop to and fro, rubbing his hands
gleefully, chuckling, and audibly murmuring little congratulatory
ejaculations to himself, fragments of which--such as--"new hat--astonish
that fellow Spence above a trifle, I flatter myself--reach the Heads a
clear week before him," etcetera etcetera--Ned Damerell caught from time
to time as the skipper trotted past him.
In the forecastle, too, there was great jubilation that evening. Jack
dearly loves a speedy ship; and now that they had had an exemplification
of what the _Flying Cloud_ really _could_ do when she had a fair chance,
all hands were fully agreed that she was by far the fastest ship they
had ever sailed in.
Williams, the man who had assisted at the loading of the guns on board,
was especially enthusiastic upon the subject.
"My eyes! mates, what a pirate-ship this craft would make!" he
ejaculated when at length all hands' catalogue of praises seemed to be
about exhausted. "Why, if she was mine I'd make my fortune--ay, and
that of all hands belonging to her in less than six months!"
This remark produced a general laugh. "Why, Josh, bo! you don't mean to
say as how you'd go piratin' if so be as this here pretty little ship
was yourn, do you?" asked Tim Parsons, a great burly, bushy-whiskered
seaman, who was seated on a sea-chest on the opposite side of the
forecastle.
"Why--no, I don't perhaps exactly mean _that_," was the reply. "And
yet--I don't know--why shouldn't I? There's worse trades than pirating,
let me tell you, boys?"
"Ay, ay? Is there? I should like to hear you name a few of 'em,"
objected Parsons.