The Little Skipper Part 6

"Right you are. Sailors allus helps a messmet. I helps you and you helps me, eh!"

"Yes, of course," said Bob.

"Well, I'm going to have a caulk till we gets to Portsmouth. Will you take the watch?"

"The watch?"

"Ay! you won't go to sleep?"

"Oh, no!" said the Skipper; "I couldn't now."

"I could," said the man, grinning; "look-ye here."

He snuggled up in his corner, laid his head on his canvas bag, shut his eyes, and the next minute he snored his hat off, ready for his fellow-traveller to pick it up again, lay it on the seat, and then look out of the window as the train dawdled along, stopping at every station, a long time at a junction.

It was rapidly growing dark when they reached the harbour, the sailor sound asleep; and the Skipper had to shake him and shout in his ear:--

"Portsmouth!"

CHAPTER VII.

"Ay, ay," growled the sleepy sailor. "What's matter?"

"We're at Portsmouth."

"Right you are, mate," cried the man, jumping up and fumbling in his pocket for his pa.s.s, just as the ticket collector came up. Then, on they went a short distance; the train stopped again, and shivering with excitement, and fear, lest the "Flash" should have sailed, the Skipper alighted with his new friend, who shouldered his kit, and they walked off rapidly to the stairs.

Bob's eyes were wandering outward, in search of his father's vessel, which he had visited three times, but it was not lying where he saw it last, and his heart was sinking again, when his companion said sharply:

"There she lies; blue Peter up--just see it. Look at 'em hysting her lights. This way."

The sailor was wonderfully quick and business-like, now, and all fell out, as he had said, about the boatmen, one of them grumbling; but he did not refuse the job, and in ten minutes they were getting very close to the soft grey side of the "Flash," with the boy trembling still, for fear he should see it begin to glide away, before he could reach the side.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "In ten minutes they were getting close to the 'Flash.'"]

But there she still swung to the buoy as they came up, and the Marine sentry at the gangway challenged.

"Good-bye," said the Skipper, handing his threepenny piece to his travelling companion, "and I wish you a pleasant voyage."

The boat floated away into the darkness, and the Skipper ran up the steps, to where the sentry stood grinning, and puzzled as to whether he should call the officer of the watch to the familiar young visitor.

"Where's my father?" said the boy; "is he in his cabin?"

"Sh.o.r.e, at the Port Admiral's, sir," said the sentry.

Here was a disappointment; but it was something to have got on board in time, and the Skipper began to walk aft, while the Marine, taking it as a matter of course that the Captain's son should have come on board, resumed his watch.

There were not many men on deck, and they were all too busy to pay any heed to the boy, as he looked about, in vain, for the familiar figure, the c.o.xswain. At last, he stopped a man carrying a lanthorn.

"Can you tell me where Jack Robinson is, please?"

"Who?" said the sailor, staring. "Ain't n.o.body o' that name here."

"I mean Tom Jeffs," said the Skipper hurriedly.

"Oh, him! Ash.o.r.e with the gig, waiting to bring the skipper aboard."

Bob looked about again and finding himself close by, and knowing his way, he went nervously into his father's cabin, where a lamp hung beneath the sky-light, but it was turned down very low. The place was empty, and all seemed very dark and lonely, but he could hear the crew stumping about and making strange noises as if busy preparing to start.

Then he started, for the steam whistle gave out a dismal shriek, and then there was a low hissing and humming noise, announcing that there was too heavy a pressure of steam.

The boy, after walking about the cabin a few times, sat down on one of the lockers, and the humming, buzzing noise of the escaping steam began to have a strange effect upon him. First he began to nod, and then he dropped off fast asleep, but started up again directly and began to walk about to try and keep awake.

But he was utterly worn out with the excitement he had gone through; the gloomy cabin was hot and close, and in spite of trying hard to keep awake, his eyelids grew more and more heavy, and at last, almost without knowing what he did, he crept to his father's berth, drew the curtain back, and threw himself down; the curtain dropped back across it, and the next minute he was sleeping soundly, with the dull, snorting, humming buzz of the escaping steam going on and mingling with his dreams.

After a time he had a faint consciousness of hearing voices in the cabin, where the lamp had been turned up. One of the voices seemed to be that of his father, and a faint quiver ran through him, while he felt as if he were in among the fir-trees, where the thick rope had been fixed up to two of the stems, and he was gently swinging to and fro. But it was not nice, for the movement made him feel giddy and strange. And then it was that Bob fancied he tried to stop the swing and sit still, but somehow it would not stop, and the feeling of giddiness increased.

It did not wake him up, though, and he slept on, knowing nothing about the Captain coming on board, with his latest despatches. Then the cable was unfastened from the buoy, the swift vessel began to glide along with the tide, which was running fast, and the Captain went up on the bridge, along with his chief officer. Every now and then a sharp sound like the striking of a clock was heard, these sounds being the striking of the little gong in the engine-room, where the engineer and his a.s.sistants were tending the bright machine, which sent the screw propeller whirling round, and making the water foam astern.

The Skipper slept on heavily while Captain Trevor stayed upon the bridge all night, with his chief officer and the pilot, the fast boat tearing through the heavy swell, which they entered as soon as they were out of the shelter of the Isle of Wight. For the Captain's orders were urgent, and he was to get right away at once.

"Good-bye, dear old home," said the Captain, as he stood on the bridge, feeling his ship quiver like a live thing as she raced along. For the last link which tied them to the sh.o.r.e, seemed to him to be broken, when the "Flash's" engines were stopped for the pilot to go down into his boat, which dropped astern into the darkness directly the gong sounded for the engines to go on ahead: and away she raced, once more, through the black darkness, with nothing to guide her upon her journey through the pathless sea, except a little flickering quivering needle--the sailor's companion the great world round--the friend which always, no matter where they may be, points with its tiny finger constantly to the north.

Towards morning Captain Trevor went down twice into his cabin, and the second time stayed for a few minutes, to drink the cup of tea his servant brought him; but he did not hear the breath of the sleeper in his berth, and he went up again to stay upon the bridge, for the weather promised to be hot and dull and hazy, and the Captain gave his orders to the navigating officers to keep on at a good speed, for, he said, he was afraid they would find fog in the mouth of the Channel, and he hoped to get out well to sea, before the sun was high.

Everything goes like clockwork on board a man-of-war, and just before breakfast-time Captain Trevor went down to his cabin to wash and prepare for the morning meal; he had hardly thrown off his coat, when, there was a faint sound in his berth, and, to his astonishment, the Skipper rolled out, b.u.mp! on to the floor, rose, staggered with his hands stretched out, and then, before his father could catch him, charged at the opposite bulkhead, and went down again.

For a few moments the Captain, in his wonder, could not speak. Then as the boy struggled to his knees, looking horribly white, he cried out angrily:

"Good gracious, boy, what are you doing here?"

CHAPTER VIII.

Everything seemed to be swimming round poor Bob. Skipper! only a "land Skipper," who had "never been to sea," and he gazed speechless and imploringly up from his knees in his father's eyes, while the "Flash"

felt as if it were going up--up--up into the skies, and then down--down--down--into the depths of the sea.

"You call, sir?" said a voice, and the Captain's neat-looking servant came to the door.

"Call? Yes! No! How came this boy here?"

"Boy, sir," said the man, gazing at the miserably limp little object before him.