Bob and Nellie both stared at Sarah in surprise.
They thought, for the moment, the poor girl had lost her wits!
An inkling of the truth, however, flashed across their minds the next
instant; and, pushing past the almost incoherent Sarah, who said
something which neither of them caught the sense of, the two rushed into
the lighted hall in a flurry of excitement.
Here the sight of several corded trunks and other luggage, which had not
been there when they went out of the house earlier in the evening, at
once confirmed their joyous anticipations.
"Hurrah!" cried Bob, giving vent to his feelings first. "Dad and mother
are here at last!"
Nell, though, got ahead of him in greeting the new-comers.
"Oh, mamma!" she said, dashing towards the door of the dining-room which
opened into the hall and meeting half-way a stately lady who was
advancing with open arms. "My own dear mamma!"
The Captain and Mrs Gilmour had now come into the hall, following more
sedately the harum-scarum youngsters; and while the former hung back,
waiting to be introduced as soon as the first greetings were over, the
good lady of the house advanced eagerly to welcome a tall and bearded
gentleman, with a right good pair of broad shoulders of his own, who
came forward to meet her, with Bob clinging to one of his arms while the
other was round his neck.
"Why, me dear Dugald, it's never you!" exclaimed Mrs Gilmour as her
brother let go Bob and caught both her outstretched hands in his, giving
them a fraternal grip. "Sure, is it yoursilf, or somebody ilse?"
"Mesilf, Polly, sure enough," replied he in a deep baritone voice, that
resembled Bob's, but had a very slight suspicion of the Irish brogue in
it like her own. "Right glad am I to say ye again, too, mavourneen!
Ye're a sight good for sore eyes, sure!"
He laughed as he said this, a racy, genial laugh in keeping with his
looks; and the Captain instantly took a liking to him for his own sake,
apart from his likeness to his sister, Mrs Gilmour, who now introduced
him, having already prepossessed the old sailor in his favour.
"Me brother--Captain Dresser," she said smiling. "I'm sure you ought to
know each other by this time, if you don't already!"
"Glad to meet you, sir, glad to meet you," cried the Captain in his
bluff hearty way. "I've often heard of you, especially since Master Bob
here has been down at Southsea."
"Ah! I have to thank you for the kind way in which you've made their
stay here pleasant for him and my little girl," rejoined the other
warmly as the two shook hands. "But, there was little need, Captain
Dresser, for my sister to introduce you. She's told me so much about
you, that I seem to have known you already for years!"
"Oh, yes," said the Captain; "your sister is one of my oldest friends."
"What's that you're saying about my being an old friend?" exclaimed Mrs
Gilmour, pretending to be indignant. "You speak as if I were an aged
person; but, I'd have you to know, that, although I'm not quite a
chicken, sure, I'm not as old as old Methuselah yet!"
"No, no, I didn't mean that," chuckled the Captain; and turning to her
brother he remarked on the likeness between him and Mrs Gilmour. "It
is absolutely striking, by Jove!"
"We're almost twins," replied he innocently; "only, I'm ten years
older!"
The Captain burst into a regular roar of laughter at this; his sides
shaking and his face getting so red that it seemed as if he were going
to have a fit of apoplexy.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "you ought to be twins!"
It was only then that the other perceived the slip he had made, as did
his sister, and the two joined in the Captain's mirth; while Master Bob
also lent his help, although witless of what the general merriment was
about, the deep ho-ho-ho! of his father being even more contagious than
the catching laugh of his old friend the Captain.
"Sure, Dugald, you're the same careless fellow still," cried Mrs
Gilmour, as soon as she was able to get out a word. "As me poor dear
Ted used to say, you're an Irishman to the backbone. Sure you never
open your mouth but you put your foot in it!"
"That is what I'm always telling him, too," said her sister-in-law, whom
the laughter in the hall, renewed with such force when Mrs Gilmour, in
trying to set matters straight, made another Irish bull as big as her
brother's, had brought out of the parlour, accompanied by Nellie.
"Dugald is really incorrigible!"
"That's just what Mrs Gilmour says I am," observed the Captain, bowing
between his chuckles. "You must let me introduce myself. I don't need
anybody to introduce you, ma'am; for I'm sure from your sweet soft voice
alone that you are little missy's mother. She and I, you know, are
sworn friends!"
Mrs Strong smiled; and, if the Captain had called her voice a sweet
one, he could find no words in which to describe the light that stole
into her eyes, irradiating the face now.
"I see you can pay compliments, Captain Dresser, although you are not an
Irishman," she said pleasantly, caressing Nell, who in the joy of seeing
her mother again had never left her side. "I suppose that's the reason
this young lady has lost her heart to you?"
"You'd better be wary of him, Edith," interposed Mrs Gilmour jokingly.
"He's a terrible old flirt with all the ladies, young and old alike!
But, wouldn't you like to go upstairs and take your things off?"
"No, thanks, not till it's time for bed; and, it must be very near that
now."
"Oh, the day's yet young!" cried her hospitable hostess, leading the way
back into the parlour. "We didn't expect you before to-morrow, or next
day at the earliest; and Nell, indeed, stopped in all the morning to
finish her letter in time, so that you could get it to-night in London,
as she thought. Still, my dear, I dare say we'll be able to find you
something to eat, and your rooms shall be got ready for you as soon as
possible."
"Please, mum," said Sarah, who was still waiting in the hall, at hand
for whatever the guests might need, "they are quite ready, mum!"
"Ready!" repeated Mrs Gilmour surprised. "The spare rooms?"
"Yes, mum," replied Sarah, dropping a curtsey, with the proud
consciousness of having done well in her mistress's sight. "Me and
Molly went up to the rooms and did what you told me I'd have to do to-
morrow, as soon as ever Mr and Mrs Strong came, mum; so now they're
quite ready. Molly, too, went back afterwards to her kitchen, and is
warming up the curry, in case you should like it hot for supper."
"You've done quite right, Sarah, and just as I would have directed if
I'd been at home. Tell Molly from me, that there is nothing my brother
is fonder of than curry; and that she may send up supper as soon as
she's got it ready."
Sarah hurried off to quicken the preparations of her fellow-servant
below, her movements somewhat accelerated by Bob shouting out the cruel
refrain of the "forget-me-not poem!"
"Ah, but," put in the Captain, "the `good Sarah' did not forget her head
this time, at any rate! You'll have to alter your poem, Master Bob!"
Then, of course, ensued a lot of explanations, which led up to an
account of the picnic, the elaborate description of which Nellie had
taken such pains to write in her letter home to her mother.
All of which pains, alas! were thrown away; for here was her mother by
her side, while her graphic letter was lying uselessly in the box at the
post-office!
A series of questions and answers then followed rapidly in reference to
Bob and Miss Nell's doings since they had been down by the sea;
interspersed with sundry inquiries after Blinkie, the old dissipated
jackdaw left behind at home, and Snuffles, the black cat, who was a
martyr to chronic influenza, whence his very appropriate name!
Rover, who was wild with delight on seeing his old master and mistress
when he came in damp and dripping from his experiences of the wreck, was
not altogether forgotten, you may be sure, just because London friends
were thought of! On the contrary, he received many pats and caresses
besides getting an unexpected supper; a thing not generally in Rover's
line, but which, none the less, did not seem to come amiss to him on the
present occasion.
By this time, it was very late, the "tattoo" having sounded long since,
summoning all truant soldiers into barracks; so, the Captain, declaring
that his landlady would "haul him over the coals" for stopping out so
late, stumped away chuckling down the parade with his malacca cane.
The exhausted household at "the Moorings" then went to bed in peace,
tired out with their day's doings--tired even of talk--Bob and Nell
composing in their dreams a fresh version, as the old sailor had
humorously suggested, of Sarah's celebrated picnic poem; in which,
instead of their original quatrain, "bed" now rhymed with "head," in
lieu of the unfortunately forgotten "bread," and "curry" with "hurry!"
The next day, both Mr and Mrs Dugald Strong said that they were too
fatigued to do anything else save lie in the sun and bask on the beach;
but the following morning, the Captain, insisting on their seeing the
sights of the place, took them all down to the harbour, when they went
on board the _Victory_, Nelson's old flagship, which Mrs Gilmour said
she had been over "at laste a hundred times before," although she
accompanied them now "for company's sake, sure!"
If a hackneyed theme to her, this visit to the historic vessel was,
however, replete with interest to the others; being full of floating
memories of the past, in which the grand figure of the hero of Trafalgar
stood out in relief with that wonderfully blood-stirring last signal of
his, like a laurel wreath encircling his brows-- "England expects every
man this day to do his duty!"
To Bob and Nellie it was especially delightful to see the real ship in
which Nelson had fought so gallantly that battle of which they had read,
knowing, by heart almost, the principal incidents of the glorious day,
when the British fleet "crumpled up the combined squadrons of France and
Spain"; and, with the able assistance of the Captain, who made an
admirable cicerone, they could, standing there on board the _Victory_,
imagine themselves in the thick of the celebrated sea-fight. Aye,
boarding the _Santissima Trinidada_, with the guns banging about them
and the sulphurous gunpowder-smoke filling the air around, hiding
everything beyond the ponderous hulls of the enemy's three-deckers
between which, yard-arm to yard-arm, the old _Victory_ lay!
"Here it was," said the Captain, pointing out the spot on the quarter-
deck below the poop, close to a hatchway, and marked by a copper plate
let into the planking, bearing a short inscription commemorating the
fact, "that Nelson was standing when that villainous marksman in the
_Redoutable's_ mizzen-top hit him, catching sight of the medals on his
breast; for, he would stick 'em on, in spite of the advice of Hardy, who
was his flag-captain, you know."
"That was very foolish of him," interposed Mrs Gilmour. "I suppose he
did it to show off, like most of you men; for you're a consayted lot!
The same as you punish your malacca cane, Captain!"
"Not a bit of it!" retorted the old sailor indignantly, up in arms at
once at the slightest aspersion on his hero's fame. "He wore his medals
because, ma'am, in the first place, he wasn't a bit ashamed of them;
and, secondly, to encourage his men--there, ma'am!"
"That's a settler for you, Polly!" said her brother quizzingly; but, he
didn't laugh, the Captain appeared so very much in earnest in speaking
of Nelson, whom he regarded with the deepest veneration. "I don't
think, my dear, though, it's a subject for joking!"
"I'm very sorry I spoke, sure," pleaded she in extenuation of her
offence, "I didn't mean any harm!"
"Well, well, let it pass," replied the Captain, dismissing the painful
point in dispute with a wave of his arm and continuing his description
of the tragic end of the conqueror of Trafalgar, which Mrs Gilmour's
interruption had somewhat confused in his mind. "We were just where he
was shot, eh?"
"Yes," replied Bob, who had been hanging on his words and was all
attention and had not lost a word of the narrative. "The French
marksman saw his medals."
"Humph!" ejaculated the old sailor, "making sail again with a fair
wind," as he expressed it in his nautical way. "Well, then, the fellow
who shot him was potted immediately afterwards, you'll be glad to hear,
by one of our `jollies'--marines, you know--on the poop, who saw the
chap aiming at Nelson, but fired too late to prevent the fatal leaden
messenger doing its deadly work! The poor Admiral sank down here, just
by that hatchway, and there used to be the stain of his blood, as they
said, on the old timbers of the deck; but those have been removed, and,
indeed, they've restored the ship so often that there's hardly one of
her old planks left in her save this with the memorial plate here."
"But, what was done after Nelson was wounded?" inquired Nellie, who had
been listening as intently as Bob. "Didn't they do anything to help
him?"
"Why, they took him down to the cock-pit, as they called the
midshipmen's berth on the lower deck, where we're going now," replied
the Captain, leading the way down the companion and an interminable
series of other ladders afterwards, as if they were descending to the
kelson, the space getting all the narrower and darker as they went down.
"They took him below--to die!"
Here, in a small, confined apartment, which Bob's father said looked
"like the condemned cell at Newgate," and whose sole apparent advantage,
as the Captain explained, was in its being below the water-line, and
therefore the only safe place in a ship before the days of torpedoes and
submarine warfare, he went on to tell the children, the hero breathed
his last; his dying moments eased by the knowledge that he had done his
duty to his country and cheered by the news that the foe was vanquished,
Hardy making him smile by saying how many ships of the line had struck
their colours already or been destroyed. Nell shivered.
"Let us go upstairs," she said, in a very depressed tone, in keeping
with the melancholy associations of the place. "Let us go upstairs!"
The Captain laughed out at this.
"You'd make a sailor faint, if he heard you ever use that expression!"
he cried. "The idea of speaking about `upstairs' on board a ship, and
your uncle a sailor, too, missy!"
"What should I say?" she asked, looking into his face as well as the dim
light would permit. "What should I say instead?"
"Why, `on deck,' of course," he replied. "We've got no stairs on board
ship. They're either `companion-ways' or `ladders,' up one of which
we'll go now, if you like!"
So saying, he led the way on deck as he had down below, taking them all
into the ward-room under the poop, where they now saw various relics of
the hero, besides letters and orders in his writing, which were framed
and hung round the cabin like pictures.
Bob, whose calligraphy was none of the clearest or most legible, had the
benefit of a little moral lesson here from his father, who seemed to
take a mean advantage of the fact of Nelson writing so well with his
left hand after he lost his right; but Master Bob evaded the issue very
well by saying that "when he was similarly circumstanced," he would try
and write as well, too!
"Bravo!" cried the Captain, as they left the ship, going down the
"accommodation-ladder," which, as he was careful to tell Nellie, was not
a staircase either, although outside the ship. Then, turning to her
father he added, chuckling-- "That boy of yours, Strong, is a regular
chip of the old block, and a credit to your country!"
They had a laugh at this, of course; and, then, on Mrs Gilmour
suggesting their taking advantage of the high tide to visit Porchester
Castle, as the harbour looked its best, the watermen in charge of their
wherry were directed to row up stream towards the creek on the northern
side, where the old fortress, embowered in trees, nestled under the
shelter of the Portsdown hills, a monolith of past grandeur and present
decay!