HAS REFERENCE TO MANY THINGS CONNECTED WITH MIND, MATTER, AND
AFFECTIONS.
The wave which had burst with such disastrous effect on the deck of the
troop-ship was but the herald of one of those short, wild storms which
occasionally sweep with desolating violence over the Atlantic Ocean, and
too frequently strew with wreck the western shores of Europe.
In the Bay of Biscay, as usual, the power of the gale was felt more
severely than elsewhere.
"There's some sort o' mystery about the matter," said Jack Molloy to
William Armstrong, as they cowered together under the shelter of the
bridge. "Why the Atlantic should tumble into this 'ere bay with greater
wiolence than elsewhere is beyond my comprehension. But any man wi'
half an eye can see that it _do_ do it! Jist look at that!"
There was something indeed to look at, for, even while he spoke, a
mighty wave tumbled on board of the vessel, rushed over the fore deck
like Niagara rapids in miniature, and slushed wildly about for a
considerable time before it found its way through the scuppers, into the
grey wilderness of heaving billows from which it sprang.
The great ship quivered, and seemed for a moment to stagger under the
blow, while the wind shrieked through the rigging as if laughing at the
success of its efforts, but the whitey-grey hull rose heavily, yet
steadily, out of the churning foam, rode triumphant over the
broad-backed billow that had struck her, and dived ponderously into the
valley of waters beyond.
"Don't you think," said the young soldier, whose general knowledge was a
little more extensive than that of the seaman, "that the Gulf Stream may
have something to do with it?"
Molloy looked at the deck with philosophically solemn countenance.
Deriving no apparent inspiration from that quarter, he gazed on the
tumultuous chaos of salt-water with a perplexed expression. Finally and
gravely he shook his weather-beaten head--
"Can't see that nohow," he said. "In course I knows that the Gulf
Stream comes out the Gulf o' Mexico, cuts across the Atlantic in a
nor'-easterly direction, goes slap agin the west of England, Ireland,
and Scotland, and then scurries away up the coast o' Norway--though
_why_ it should do so is best known to itself; p'r'aps it's arter the
fashion of an angry woman, accordin' to its own sweet will; but what has
that got for to do wi' the Bay of Biscay O? That's wot I wants to
know."
"More to do with it than you think, Jack," answered the soldier. "In
the first place, you're not quite, though partly, correct about the Gulf
Stream--"
"Well, I ain't zactly a scienkrific stoodent, you know. Don't purfess
to be."
"Just so, Jack. Neither am I, but I have inquired into this matter in a
general way, an' here's _my_ notions about it."
"Draw it fine, Willum; don't be flowery," said the sailor, renewing his
quid. "Moreover, if you'll take the advice of an old salt you'll keep a
tighter grip o' that belayin'-pin you've got hold of, unless you wants
to be washed overboard. Now then, fire away! I'm all attention, as the
cat said at the mouth o' the mouse-hole."
"Well, then," began Armstrong, with the slightly conscious air of
superior knowledge, "the Gulf Stream does _not_ rise in the Gulf of
Mexico--"
"Did I say that it did, Willum?"
"Well, you said that it _came out of_ the Gulf of Mexico--and, no doubt,
so far you are right, but what I mean is that it does not originate
there."
"W'y don't you say what you mean, then, Willum, instead o' pitchin' into
a poor chap as makes no pretence to be a purfessor? Heave ahead!"
"Well, Jack," continued the soldier, with more care as to his
statements, "I believe, on the best authority, that the Gulf Stream is
only part of a great ocean current which originates at the equator, and
a small bit of which flows north into the Atlantic, where it drives into
the Gulf of Mexico. Finding no outlet there it rushes violently round
the gulf--"
"Gits angry, no doubt, an' that's what makes it hot?" suggested the
sailor.
"Perhaps! Anyhow, it then flows, as you say, in a nor'-easterly
direction to the coasts of Great Britain and Ireland. But it does more
than that. It spreads as it goes, and also rushes straight at the
coasts of France and Spain. Here, however, it meets a strong counter
current running south along these same coasts of France an' Spain. That
is difficulty number one. It has to do battle wi' that current, and you
know, Jack, wherever there's a battle there's apt to be convulsions of
some sort. Well, then, a nor'-westerly gale comes on and rolls the
whole o' the North Atlantic Ocean against these coasts. So here you
have this part of the Gulf Stream caught in another direction--on the
port quarter, as you sailors might call it--"
"Never mind wot us sailors might call it, Willum. Wotever you say on
that pint you're sure to be wrong. Heave ahead!"
"Well, then," continued Armstrong, with a laugh, "that's trouble number
two; and these troubles, you'll observe, apply to the whole west coast
of both countries; but in the Bay of Biscay there is still another
difficulty, for when these rushing and tormented waters try to escape,
they are met fair in the face by the whole north coast of Spain, and
thus--"
"_I_ sees it!" exclaimed Molloy, with a sudden beam of intelligence,
"you've hit the nail on the head, Willum. Gulf Stream flies at France
in a hot rage, finds a cool current, or customer, flowin' down south
that shouts `Belay there!' At it they go, tooth an' nail, when down
comes a nor'-wester like a wolf on the fold, takes the Stream on the
port quarter, as you say, an' drives both it an' the cool customer into
the bay, where the north o' Spain cries `Avast heavin', both o' you!'
an' drives 'em back to where the nor'-wester's drivin' 'em on! No
wonder there's a mortal hullaballoo in the Bay o' Biscay! Why, mate,
where got ye all that larnin'?"
Before his friend could reply, a terrific plunge of the vessel, a
vicious shriek of the wind, and the entrance of another tremendous sea,
suggested that the elements were roused to unusual fury at having the
secrets of their operations thus ruthlessly revealed, and also suggested
the propriety of the two friends seeking better shelter down below.
While this storm was raging, Miles lay in his hammock, subjected to
storms of the bosom with occasional calms between. He was enjoying one
of the calms when Armstrong passed his hammock and asked how he was
getting on.
"Very well, Willie. Soon be all right, I think," he replied, with a
contented smile.
For at that moment he had been dwelling on the agreeable fact that he
had really rescued Marion Drew from probable death, and that her parents
gratefully recognised the service--as he learned from the clergyman
himself, who expressed his gratitude in the form of frequent visits to
and pleasant chats with the invalid.
The interest and sympathy which Miles had felt on first seeing this man
naturally increased, and at last he ventured to confide to him the story
of his departure from home, but said nothing about the changed name. It
is needless to relate all that was said on the occasion. One can easily
imagine the bearing of a good deal of it. The result on Miles was not
very obvious at the time, but it bore fruit after many days.
The calm in our hero's breast was not, however, of long duration. The
thought that, as a private in a marching regiment, he had not the means
to maintain Marion, in the social position to which she had been
accustomed, was a very bitter thought, and ruffled the sea of his
feelings with a stiff breeze. This freshened to something like a gale
of rebellion when he reflected that his case was all but hopeless; for,
whatever might have been the truth of the statement regarding the French
army under Napoleon, that "every soldier carried a marshal's baton in
his knapsack," it did not follow that soldiers in the British army of
the present day carried commissions in _their_ knapsacks. Indeed, he
knew it was by no means a common thing for men to rise from the ranks,
and he was well aware that those who did so were elevated in virtue of
qualities which he did not possess.
He was in the midst of one of his bosom storms when Sergeant Hardy came
to inquire how he did.
Somehow the quiet, grave, manly nature of that sergeant had a powerful
effect, not only on Miles but on every one with whom he came in contact.
It was not so much his words as his manner that commended him. He was
curiously contradictory, so to speak, in character and appearance. The
stern gravity of his countenance suggested a hard nature, but lines of
good-humour lurking about the eyes and mouth put to flight the
suggestion, and acts of womanly tenderness on many occasions turned the
scale the other way. A strong, tall, stiffly upright and slow-moving
frame, led one to look only for elephantine force, but when
circumstances required prompt action our sergeant displayed powers of
cat-like activity, which were all the more tremendous that they seemed
incongruous and were unexpected. From his lips you looked for a voice
of thunder--and at drill you were not disappointed--but on ordinary
occasions his speech was soft and low; bass indeed as to its quality,
but never harsh or loud.
"A gale is brewing up from the nor'-west, so Jack Molloy says," remarked
Hardy, as he was about to pass on.
"Why, I thought it was blowing a gale _now_!" returned Miles. "At least
it seems so, if we may judge from the pitching and plunging."
"Ah, lad, you are judging from the landlubber's view-point," returned
the sergeant. "Wait a bit, and you will understand better what Molloy
means when he calls this only a `capful of wind.'"
Miles had not to wait long. The gale when fully "brewed up" proved to
be no mean descendant of the family of storms which have tormented the
celebrated bay since the present economy of nature began; and many of
those who were on board of the troop-ship at that time had their eyes
opened and their minds enlarged as to the nature of a thorough gale;
when hatches have to be battened down, and the dead-lights closed; when
steersmen have to be fastened in their places, and the maddened sea
seems to roar defiance to the howling blast, and all things movable on
deck are swept away as if they were straws, and many things not meant to
be movable are wrenched from their fastenings with a violence that
nothing formed by man can resist, and timbers creak and groan, and loose
furniture gyrates about until smashed to pieces, and well-guarded glass
and crockery leap out of bounds to irrecoverable ruin, and even the
seamen plunge about and stagger, and landsmen hold on to ring-bolts and
belaying-pins, or cling to bulkheads for dear life, while mighty
billows, thundering in-board, hiss along the decks, and everything,
above, below, and around, seems being swept into eternity by the besom
of destruction!
But the troop-ship weathered the storm nobly; and the good Lord sent
fine weather and moderate winds thereafter; and ere long the soldiers
were enjoying the sunshine, the sparkling waters, and the sight of the
lovely shores of the blue Mediterranean.
Soon after that broken bones began to mend, and bruises to disappear;
and our hero, thoroughly recovered from his accident, as well as greatly
improved in general health, returned to his duties.
But Miles was not a happy man, for day by day he felt more and more
severely that he had put himself in a false position. Besides the
ever-increasing regret for having hastily forsaken home, he had now the
bitter reflection that he had voluntarily thrown away the right to
address Marion Drew as an equal.
During the whole voyage he had scarcely an opportunity of speaking a
word to her. Of course the warm-hearted girl did not forget the
important service that had been rendered to her by the young soldier,
and she took more than one occasion to visit the fore part of the vessel
for the purpose of expressing her gratitude and asking about his health,
after he was able to come on deck; but as her father accompanied her on
these occasions, the conversation was conducted chiefly between him and
the reverend gentleman. Still, it was some comfort to hear her voice
and see her eyes beaming kindly on him.
Once the youth inadvertently expressed his feelings in his look, so that
Marion's eye-lids dropped, and a blush suffused her face, to hide which
she instantly became unreasonably interested in the steam-winch beside
which they were standing, and wanted to understand principles of
engineering which had never troubled her before!
"What _is_ the use of that curious machine?" she asked, turning towards
it quickly.
"W'y, Miss," answered Jack Molloy, who chanced to be sitting on a spare
yard close at hand working a Turk's head on a manrope, "that's the
steam-winch, that is the thing wot we uses w'en we wants to hoist things
out o' the hold, or lower 'em into it."
"Come, Marion, we must not keep our friend from his duties," said Mr
Drew, nodding pleasantly to Miles as he turned away.
The remark was called forth by the fact that Miles had been arrested
while on his way to the galley with a dish of salt pork, and with his
shirt-sleeves, as usual, tucked up!
Only once during the voyage did our hero get the chance of talking with
Marion alone. The opportunity, like most pieces of good fortune, came
unexpectedly. It was on a magnificent night, just after the troop-ship
had left Malta. The sea was perfectly calm, yet affected by that oily
motion which has the effect of breaking a reflected moon into a million
fragments. All nature appeared to be hushed, and the stars were
resplendent. It was enough, as Jack Molloy said, to make even a bad man
feel good!
"Do 'ee speak from personal experience, Jack?" asked a comrade on that
occasion.
"I might, Jim, if _you_ wasn't here," retorted Molloy; "but it's not
easy to feel bad alongside o' _you_."
"That's like a double-edged sword, Jack--cuts two ways. W'ich way d'ee
mean it?"
"`W'ichever way you please,' as the man said w'en the alligator axed 'im
w'ether he'd prefer to be chawed up or bolted whole."
Concluding that, on the whole, the conversation of his friends did not
tend to edification, Miles left them and went to one of the starboard
gangways, from which he could take a contemplative view of Nature in her
beautiful robe of night. Curiously enough, Marion chanced to saunter
towards the same gangway, and unexpectedly found him there.
"A lovely night, Mr Miles," she remarked.
Miles started, and turned with slight confusion in his face, which,
happily, the imperfect light concealed.
"Beautiful indeed!" he exclaimed, thinking of the face before him--not
of the night!
"A cool, beautiful night like this," continued the girl--who was of the
romantic age of sixteen--"will remain long, I should think, in your
memory, and perhaps mitigate, in some degree, the hardships that are
before you on the burning sand of Egypt."
"The memory of this night," returned Miles, with fervour, "will remain
with me _for ever_! It will not only mitigate what you are pleased to
call hardships, but will cause me to forget them altogether--forget
_everything_!"
"Nay, that were impossible," rejoined Marion, with a slight laugh; "for
a true soldier cannot forget Duty!"
"True, true," said Miles dubiously; "at least it ought to be true; and I
have no doubt is so in many cases, but--"
What more he might have said cannot now be told, for they were
interrupted at the moment by Captain Lacey, who, happening to walk in
that direction, stopped and directed Miss Drew's attention to a
picturesque craft, with high lateen sails, which had just entered into
the silver pathway of the moon on the water.
Miles felt that it would be inappropriate in him to remain or to join in
the conversation. With a heart full of disappointment and indignation
he retired, and sought refuge in the darkest recesses of the pantry, to
which he was welcome at all times, being a great favourite with the
steward.
Whether it was the smell of the cheese or the ketchup we know not, but
here better thoughts came over our hero. Insignificant causes often
produce tremendous effects. The touching of a trigger is but a small
matter; the effects of such a touch are sometimes deadly as well as
touching. Possibly the sugar, if not the cinnamon, may have been an
element in his change of mind. At all events it is safe to say that the
general smell of groceries was associated with it.
Under the benign influence of this change he betook himself to the berth
of the chief ship's-carpenter, with whom also he was a favourite.
Finding the berth empty, and a light burning in it, he sat down to wait
for his friend. The place was comparatively quiet and retired.
Bethinking himself of the little packet which he had received at
Portsmouth, and which still lay unopened in the breast-pocket of his
shell-jacket, he pulled it out. Besides a Testament, it contained
sundry prettily covered booklets written by Miss Robinson and others to
interest the public in our soldiers, as well as to amuse the soldiers
themselves. In glancing through "Our Soldiers and Sailors," "Institute
Memories," "Our Warfare," "The Victory," "Heaven's Light our Guide,"
"Good-bye," and similar works, two facts were suddenly impressed upon
his mind, and strongly illuminated--namely, that there is such a thing
as living for the good of others, and that up to that time he had lived
simply and solely for himself!
The last sentence that had fallen from the lips of Marion that night was
also strongly impressed upon him:--"a true soldier cannot forget Duty!"
and he resolved that "Duty" should be his life's watchword
thenceforward. Such is the influence that a noble-minded woman may
unconsciously have over even an unsteady man!
Soon after this the troop-ship reached the end of her voyage, and cast
anchor off the coast of Egypt, near the far-famed city of Alexandria.