Once more we return to the embarkation jetty at Portsmouth.
There, as of old, we find a huge, white-painted troop-ship warping
slowly in, her bulwarks and ports crowded with white helmets, and eager
faces gazing at the equally eager but anxious faces on shore.
Miss Robinson's coffee-shed shows signs of life! Our friend Brown is
stimulating the boiler. The great solitary port-hole has been opened,
and the never-failing lady-workers are there, preparing their ammunition
and getting ready for action, for every troop-ship that comes to
Portsmouth from foreign shores, laden with the bronzed warriors of
Britain, has to face the certainty of going into action with that
unconquerable little coffee-shed!
We do not, however, mean to draw the reader again through the old scene,
further than to point out that, among the many faces that loom over
these bulwarks, five are familiar, namely, those of our friends Miles
Milton, William Armstrong, Moses Pyne, Stevenson, and Simkin. Jack
Molloy is not with them, because he has preferred to remain in Egypt,
believing himself to be capable of still further service to Queen and
country.
A feeling of great disappointment oppresses Miles and his friend
Armstrong, for they fail to recognise in the eager crowd those whom they
had expected to see.
"My mother must be ill," muttered Miles.
"So must my Emmy," murmured his friend.
There was a very anxious little widow on the jetty who could _not_
manage to distinguish individuals in the sea of brown faces and white
helmets, because the tears in her eyes mixed them all up most
perplexingly. It is not surprising that Miles had totally failed to
recognise the mother of old in the unfamiliar widow's weeds--especially
when it is considered that his was a shrinking, timid mother, who kept
well in the background of the demonstrative crowd. Their eyes met at
last, however, and those of the widow opened wide with surprise at the
change in the son, while those of the son were suddenly blinded with
tears at the change in the mother.
Then they met--and such a meeting!--in the midst of men and women,
elbowing, crowding, embracing, exclaiming, rejoicing, chaffing, weeping!
It was an awkward state of things, but as every one else was in the
same predicament, and as all were more or less swallowed up in their own
affairs, Miles and his mother were fain to make the best of it. They
retired under the partial shelter of a bulkhead, where block-tackles and
nautical debris interfered with their footing, and tarry odours regaled
their noses, and there, in semi-publicity, they interchanged their first
confidences.
Suddenly Mrs Milton observed a tall young fellow standing not far off,
looking wistfully at the bewildering scene, apparently in deep
dejection.
"Who is that, Miles?" she asked.
"Why, that's my comrade, chum, and friend, whom I have so often written
about, Willie Armstrong. Come. I will introduce you."
"Oh! how selfish of me!" cried the widow, starting forward and not
waiting for the introduction; "Mr Armstrong--I'm _so_ sorry; forgive
me! I promised to let you know that your wife waits to meet you at the
Soldiers' Institute."
The difference between darkness and light seemed to pass over the
soldier's face, then a slight shade of anxiety clouded it. "She is not
ill, is she?"
"No, no, _quite_ well," said Mrs Milton, with a peculiar smile; "but
she thought it wiser not to risk a meeting on the jetty as the east wind
is sharp. I'm so sorry I did not tell you at once, but I selfishly
thought only--"
"Pray make no apology, madam," interrupted Armstrong. "I'm so thankful
that all is well. I had begun to fear that something must be wrong, for
my Emmy _never_ disappoints me. If she thinks it wiser not to meet on
the jetty, it _is_ wiser!"
A crowd of men pushed between them at this moment. Immediately after, a
female shout was heard, followed by the words, "There he is! Och, it's
himsilf--the darlint!"
Mrs Flynn had discovered the little corporal, and her trooper son,
Terence, who had come down with her, stood by to see fair-play while the
two embraced.
Drifting with a rather rapid tide of mingled human beings, Miles and his
mother soon found themselves stranded beside the coffee-shed. Retiring
behind this they continued their conference there, disturbed only by
wind and weather, while the distribution of hot coffee was going on in
front.
Meanwhile, when leave was obtained, Armstrong made his way to the
Institute, where the old scene of bustle and hilarity on the arrival of
a troop-ship was going on. Here, in a private room, he discovered Emmy
and the _cause_ of her not appearing on the jetty.
"Look at him--Willie the second!" cried the little woman, holding up a
bundle of some sort. The soldier was staggered for a moment--the only
infantry that had ever staggered him!--for his wife had said nothing
about this bundle in her letters. He recovered, however, and striding
across the room embraced the wife and the bundle in one tremendous hug!
The wife did not object, but the bundle did, and instantly set up a howl
that quite alarmed the father, and was sweetest music in the mother's
ears!
"Now tell me," said the little woman, after calming the baby and putting
it in a crib; "have you brought Miles Milton home all safe?"
"Yes, all right, Emmy."
"And is he married to that dear girl you wrote about?"
"No, not yet--of course."
"But are they engaged?"
"No. Miles told me that he would not presume to ask her while he had no
home to offer her."
"Pooh! He's a goose! He ought to make sure of _her_, and let the home
look after itself. He may lose her. Girls, you know, are changeable,
giddy things!"
"I know nothing of the sort, Emmy."
The young wife laughed, and--well, there is no need to say what else she
did.
About the same time, Mrs Milton and her son were seated in another
private room of the Institute finishing off that interchange of
confidences which had begun in such confusion. As it happened, they
were conversing on the same subject that occupied Emmy and her husband.
"You have acted rightly, Miles," said the mother, "for it would have
been unfair and selfish to have induced the poor girl to accept you
until you had some prospect of a home to give her. God will bless you
for doing _the right_, and trusting to Him. And now, dear boy, are you
prepared for bad news?"
"Prepared for anything!" answered Miles, pressing his mother's hand,
"but I hope the bad news does not affect you, mother."
"It does. Your dear father died a bankrupt. I shrank from telling you
this when you were wounded and ill. So you have to begin again the
battle of life with only one hand, my poor boy, for the annuity I have
of twenty pounds a year will not go far to keep us both."
Mrs Milton tried to speak lightly on this point, by way of breaking it
to her son, but she nearly broke down, for she had already begun to feel
the pinch of extreme poverty, and knew it to be very, very different
from what "well-off" people fancy. The grave manner in which her son
received this news filled her with anxiety.
"Mother," he said, after pondering in silence for a few moments, and
taking her hand in his while he slipped the handless arm round her
waist, "the news is indeed serious, but our Father whom you have trusted
so long will not fail us now. Happily it is my right hand that has been
spared, and wonders, you know, may be wrought with a strong right hand,
especially if assisted by a strong left stump, into which spoons, forks,
hooks, and all manner of ingenious contrivances can be fitted. Now,
cheer up, little mother, and I'll tell you what we will do. But first,
is there _nothing_ left? Do the creditors take everything?"
"All, I believe, except some of the furniture which has been kindly left
for us to start afresh with. But we must quit the old home next month.
At least, so I am told by my kind little lawyer, who looks after
everything, for _I_ understand nothing."
"Your mention of a lawyer reminds me, mother, that a poor sergeant, who
died a short time ago in Egypt, made me his executor, and as I am
painfully ignorant of the duties of an executor I'll go and see this
`kind little lawyer' if you will give me his address."
Leaving Miles to consult his lawyer, we will now turn to a meeting--a
grand tea-fight--in the great hall of the Institute, that took place a
few days after the return of the troop-ship which brought our hero and
his friends to England. Some telling incidents occurred at this fight
which render it worthy of notice.
First, Miss Robinson herself presided and gave a stirring address,
which, if not of much interest to readers who did not hear it, was a
point of immense attraction to the hundreds of soldiers, sailors, and
civilians to whom it was delivered, for it was full of sympathy, and
information, and humour, and encouragement, and, above all, of the
Gospel.
Everybody worth mentioning was there--that is, everybody connected with
our tale who was in England at the time. Miles and his mother of course
were there, and Armstrong with Emmy--ay, and with Willie the second
too--who was pronounced on all hands to be the born image of his father.
Alas for his father, if that had been true! A round piece of dough
with three holes punched in it and a little knot in the midst would have
borne as strong a resemblance to Miles as that baby did. Nevertheless,
it was a "magnificent" baby! and "_so_ good," undeniably good, for it
slept soundly in its little mother's lap the whole evening!
Stevenson was also there, you may be sure; and so were Moses and
Sutherland, and Rattling Bill Simkin and Corporal Flynn, with his mother
and Terence the Irish trooper, who fraternised with Johnson the English
trooper, who was also home on the sick-list--though he seemed to have a
marvellous colour and appetite for a sick man.
"Is that the `Soldiers Friend?'" asked Simkin, in a whisper, of a man
who stood near him, as a lady came on the platform and took the chair.
"Ay, that's her," answered the man--and the speaker was Thomas Tufnell,
the ex-trooper of the Queen's Bays, and the present manager of the
Institute--"Ay, that's the `Soldier's Friend.'"
"Well, I might have guessed it," returned Simkin, "from the kindly way
in which she shook hands with a lot of soldiers just now."
"Yes, she has shook hands with a good many red-coats in her day, has the
`Soldier's Friend,'" returned the manager. "Why, I remember on one
occasion when she was giving a lecture to soldiers, and so many men came
forward to shake hands with her that, as she told me herself, her hand
was stiff and swelled all night after it!"
"But it's not so much for what she has done for ourselves that we're
grateful to her," remarked a corporal, who sat on Simkin's right, "as
for what she has done for our wives, widows, and children, through the
_Soldiers' and Sailors' Wives' Aid Association_. Lookin' arter them
when we're away fightin' our country's battles has endeared her to us
more than anything else."
Thus favourably predisposed, Simkin was open to good impressions that
night. But, indeed, there was an atmosphere--a spirit of good-will--in
the hall that night which rendered many others besides Simkin open to
good impressions. Among the civilians there was a man named Sloper, who
had for some time past been carefully fished for by an enthusiastic
young red-coat whom he had basely misled and swindled. He had been at
last hooked by the young red-coat, played, and finally landed in the
hall, with his captor beside him to keep him there--for Sloper was a
slippery fish, with much of the eel in his nature.
Perhaps the most unexpected visitors to the hall were two ladies in
mourning, who had just arrived from Egypt by way of Brindisi. Mrs and
Miss Drew, having occasion to pass through Portsmouth on their way home,
learned that there was to be a tea-fight at the Institute, and Marion
immediately said, "I should like _so_ much to see it!"
However much "_so_ much" was, Mrs Drew said she would like to see it
_as_ much, so away they went, and were conducted to the front row.
There Miles saw them! With his heart in his mouth, and his head in
confusion, he quietly rose, bade his wondering mother get up; conducted
her to the front seat, and, setting her down beside the Drews,
introduced them. Then, sitting down beside Marion, he went in for a
pleasant evening.
And it _was_ a pleasant evening! Besides preliminary tea and buns,
there were speeches, songs, recitations, etcetera,--all being received
with immense satisfaction by a crowded house, which had not yet risen to
the unenviable heights of classical taste and _blaseism_. As for Miles
and Marion, nothing came amiss to them! If a singer had put B flat in
the place of A natural they would have accepted it as quite natural. If
a humourist had said the circle was a square, they would have believed
it--in a sense--and tried to square their reason accordingly.
But nothing is without alloy in this life. To the surprise of Miles and
his mother, their "kind little lawyer" also made his appearance in the
hall. More than that, he insisted, by signs, that Miles should go out
and speak with him. But Miles was obdurate. He was anchored, and
nothing but cutting the cable could move him from his anchorage.
At last the "kind little man" pushed his way through the crowd.
"I _must_ have a word with you, my dear sir. It is of importance," he
said.
Thus adjured, Miles unwillingly cut the cable, and drifted into a
passage.
"My dear sir," said the little man, seizing his hand, "I congratulate
you."
"You're very kind, but pray, explain why."
"I find that you are heir to a considerable fortune."