Jack Radburn, mate of the "Lily," was as prime a seaman as ever broke
biscuit. Brave, generous, and true, so said all the crew, as did also
Captain Haiselden, with whom he had sailed since he had first been to
sea. Yet so modest and gentle was he on shore that, in spite of his
broad shoulders and sun-burnt brow, landsmen were apt to declare that
"butter wouldn't melt in his mouth."
A finer brig than the "Lily" never sailed from the port of London. Well
built and well found--many a successful voyage had she made to far
distant seas. Jack Radburn might have got command of a larger craft,
but Captain Haiselden, who had nursed him through a fever caught on the
coast of Africa, and whose life on another occasion he had saved, thus
closely cementing their friendship, begged him to remain with him for
yet another voyage, likely to be the most adventurous they had ever yet
undertaken.
Jack Radburn, who was my uncle, stayed when on shore--not often many
weeks together--with his sister, Mrs Musgrave, my mother.
Though he was my uncle, I have spoken of him as Jack Radburn, mate of
the "Lily," as did everybody else; indeed, he was, I may say, as well
known as the captain himself. My mother, who was the daughter of a
clergyman long since dead, had not many acquaintances. She had been
left by my grandfather with little or nothing to depend upon, when her
brother introduced to her my father, then first mate of the ship to
which he belonged.
Her greatest friend was Grace Bingley, who lived with her mother, wife
of a ship-master, a few doors off from us.
Uncle Jack had consequently seen much of Grace Bingley, and had given
her the whole of his warm honest heart, nor was it surprising that he
had received hers in return, and pretty tightly he held it too. Even my
mother acknowledged that she was worthy of him, for a sweeter or more
right-minded girl was not, far or near, to be found.
Some four years before the time of which I am now speaking, my father
sailed in command of a fine ship, the "Amphion," for the Eastern seas.
The time we had expected him to return had long passed away. My mother
did not, however, give up all expectation of seeing him, but day after
day and week after week we looked for him in vain. The owners at last
wrote word that they feared the ship had been lost in a typhoon, but yet
it was possible that she might have been cast away on some uninhabited
island from whence the crew could not effect their escape. My mother
therefore still hoped on and endeavoured to eke out her means so as to
retain her house that my father might find a home should he return.
I was setting off with Uncle Jack for the "Lily," which was undergoing a
thorough repair, and he seldom failed to pay her one or two visits in
the day to see how things were going on, when two seamen came rolling up
the street towards us in sailor fashion, and looking, it seemed to me,
as if they had been drinking, though they may not have been exactly
drunk. As they approached one nudged the other, and, looking at Uncle
Jack, exchanged a few words.