With the exception of the _Sunbeam_, probably no more handsome steam
yacht ever left Southampton Harbour than the _Wolverine_. She was all
that a sailor's fancy could paint.
Quite a crowd of people were on the quay to witness her departure on her
very long and venturesome cruise. Venturesome for this reason, that,
though rigged as a steam barque, she was but little over four hundred
tons register.
Seamen on shore, as they glanced at her from stem to stem, alow and
aloft, criticised her freely. But Jack's opinion was on the whole well
embodied in a sentence spoken by a man-o'-wars-man, as he hitched up his
nether garments and turned his quid in his mouth:
"My eyes, Bill and Elizabeth Martin, she is a natty little craft! I've
been trying to find a flaw in her, or a hole, so to speak, but there's
ne'er a one, Bill--above water, anyhow. Without the steam she reminds
me of the old Aberdeen clippers. Look at her bilge, her lines, her
bows, her jibboom, with its smart and business-like curve. Ah, Bill,
how different to sail in a yacht like that from living cooped up in a
blooming iron tank, as we are in our newest-fashioned man-o'-war
teakettles! Heigho! Blowed if I wouldn't like to go on board of her!
Why, here is the doctor--splendid young fellow!--coming along the pier
now. I'll overhaul him and hail him. Come on, Bill!"
Reginald Grahame was coming somewhat slowly towards them. It was just a
day or two before the discovery of Craig Nicol's murder and the finding
of his body in the wood.
Reginald was thinking of Bilberry Hall and Annie o' the Banks o' Dee.
Sorrow was depicted in every lineament of his handsome but mobile and
somewhat nervous countenance. Was he thinking also of the cold, stiff
body of his quondam friend Craig, hidden there under the dark spruce
trees, the tell-tale knife beside him? Who can say what the innermost
workings of his mind were? Some of the most bloodthirsty pirates of old
were the handsomest men that ever trod the deck of a ship. We can judge
no man's heart from his countenance. And no woman's either. There be
she-devils who bear the sweet and winning features of saints. Our
Scottish Queen Mary was beautiful, and as graceful as beautiful.
"If to her share some human errors fall,
Look in her face, and you'll forget them all."
"Beggin' yer pardon, sir," said Jack, touching his hat and scraping a
bit, like a horse with a loose shoe, "we're only just two blooming
bluejackets, but we've been a-admiring of your craft--outside like.
D'ye think, sir, they'd let us on board for a squint?"
"Come with me, my lads. I'll take you on board."
Next minute, in company with Reginald--who was now called _Dr._--
Grahame, they were walking the ivory-white decks. Those two honest
man-o'-war sailors were delighted beyond measure with all they saw.
"Why," said Jack--he was chief spokesman, for Bill was mute--"why,
doctor, you have _sailors_ on board!--and mind you, sir, you don't find
real sailors nowadays anywhere else except in the merchant service. We
bluejackets are just like our ships--fighting machines. We ain't hearts
of oak any longer, sir."
"No," said the doctor, "but you are hearts of iron. Ha! here comes the
postman, with a letter for me, too. Thank you, postie."
He gave him sixpence, and tore the letter open, his hand shaking
somewhat. Yes, it was from Annie. He simply hurriedly scanned it at
present, but he heaved a sigh of relief as he placed it in his bosom.
Then he rejoined the bluejackets.
"Well, sir, we won't hinder you. I see you've got the Blue Peter up.
But never did I see cleaner white decks; every rope's end coiled, too.
The capstan itself is a thing o' beauty; all the brasswork looks like
gold, all the polished woodwork like ebony; and, blow me, Bill, just
look at that binnacle! Blest if it wouldn't be a beautiful ornament for
a young lady's boodwar (boudoir)! Well, sir, we wishes you a pleasant,
happy voyage and a safe return. God bless you, says Jack, and
good-bye."
"Good-bye to you, lads; and when you go to war, may you send the foe to
the bottom of the ocean. There,"--he handed Jack a coin as he
spoke--"drink _bon voyage_ to us."
"Ah, that will we!"
The sailors once more scraped and bowed, and Reginald hurried below to
read Annie's letter. It was just a lover's letter--just such a letter
as many of my readers have had in their day--so I need not describe it.
Reginald sat in his little cabin--it was only six feet square--with his
elbow leaning on his bunk, his hand under his chin, thinking, thinking,
thinking. Then an idea struck him. The skipper of the yacht--called
"captain" by courtesy--and Reginald were already the best of friends.
Indeed, Dickson--for that was his name--was but six or seven years older
than Reginald.
"Rat-tat-tat!" at the captain's door. His cabin was pretty large, and
right astern, on what in a frigate would be called "the fighting deck."
This cabin was of course right abaft the main saloon, and had a private
staircase, or companion, that led to the upper deck.
"Hullo, doctor, my boy!"
"Well, just call me Grahame, _mon ami_."
"If you'll call me Dickson, that'll square it."
"Well, then, Dickson, I'm terribly anxious to get out and away to sea.
If not soon, I feel I may run off--back to my lady love. When do we
sail for sure?"
The captain got up and tapped the glass.
"Our passengers come on board this afternoon, bag and baggage, and
to-morrow morning early we loose off, and steam out to sea--if it be a
day on which gulls can fly."
"Thanks, a thousand times. And now I won't hinder you."
"Have a drop of rum before you go, and take a cigar with you."
Reginald's heart needed keeping up, so he did both.
"When I am on the sea," he said, "I shall feel more happy. Ay, but
Annie, I never can forget you."
More cheerily now, he walked briskly off to the hotel to meet his
patients. There were two, Mr and Mrs Hall, wealthy Americans;
besides, there were, as before mentioned, Miss Hall and the child Matty.
They were all very glad to see Reginald.
"You are very young," said Mr Hall, offering him a cigar.
"I think," he answered, "I am very fit and fresh, and you will find me
very attentive."
"I'm sure of it," said Mrs Hall.
Little Matty took his hand shyly between her own two tiny ones.
"And Matty's su'e too," she said, looking up into his face.
They say that American children are thirteen years of age when born. I
know they are precocious, and I like them all the better for it. This
child was very winning, very pert and pretty, but less chubby, and more
intellectual-looking than most British children. For the life of him
Reginald could not help lifting her high above his head and kissing her
wee red lips as he lowered her into his arms.
"You and I are going to be good friends always, aren't we?"
"Oh, yes, doc," she answered gaily; "and of torse the dleat (great) big,
big dog."
"Yes, and you may ride round the decks on him sometimes."
Matty clapped her hands with joy.
"What a boo'ful moustache you has!" she said.
"You little flatterer!" he replied, as he set her down. "Ah! you have
all a woman's wiles."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Everything was on board, and the _Wolverine_ was ready to sail that
night. But the captain must go on shore to see his friends and bid them
adieu first.
The night closed in early, but the sky was studded with stars, and a
three-days'-old moon shone high in the west like a scimitar of gold.
This gave Reginald heart. Still, it might blow big guns before morning,
and although he sat up pretty late, to be initiated by Mr Hall into the
game of poker, he went often to the glass and tapped it. The glass was
steadily and moderately high. Reginald turned into his bunk at last,
but slept but little, and that little was dream-perturbed.
Early in the morning he was awakened by the roar of steam getting up.
His heart leaped for joy. It is at best a wearisome thing, this being
idle in harbour before sailing.
But at earliest dawn there was much shouting and giving of orders; the
men running fore and aft on deck; other men on shore casting off
hawsers. Then the great screw began slowly to churn up the murky water
astern. The captain himself was on the bridge, the man at the wheel
standing by to obey his slightest command.
And so the _Wolverine_ departed, with many a cheer from the shore--ay,
and many a blessing.
As she went out they passed a man-o'-war, in which the captain had many
friends. Early as it was, the commander had the band up, and sweetly
across the water came the music of that dear old song I myself have
often heard, when standing out to sea, "Good-bye, sweetheart, good-bye."
By eventide they were standing well down towards the Bay of Biscay,
which they would leave on their port quarter. They would merely skirt
it, bearing up for Madeira. But a delightful breeze had sprung up; the
white sails were set, and she was running before it, right saucily, too,
bobbing and curtseying to each rippling wavelet very prettily, as much
as to say: "Ah! you dear old sea, we have been together before now. You
will never lose your temper with me, will you?" It is well, indeed,
that sailors do not know what is before them.
The dinner-hour was seven. Mr and Mrs Hall were seated on chairs on
the quarter-deck. Neither was over-well, but Ilda and Reginald were
pacing briskly up and down the quarter-deck, chatting pleasantly. I
think, though, that Ilda had more to say than he. American girls are
born that way.
Wee Matty was making love to Oscar, the splendid and good-natured
Newfoundland. Nobody more happy than bonnie Matty, bonnie and gay, for
her happiness, indeed, was a species of merry madness. Only no one
could have heard her childish, gleesome and silvery laugh without
laughing with her.
The bell at last! Reginald took Ilda down below, then hurried on deck
to help his patients. Matty and Oscar seemed to come tumbling down.
And so the evening passed away, the stars once more glittering like
crystal gems, the great star Sirius shining in ever-changing rays of
crimson and blue.
It was indeed a goodly night, and Reginald slept to-night. The incubus
Love had fled away.