The day after Clare\'s punishment the matter was almost forgotten in the hurry incident to preparation for sea. By 5 P.M. the ship was perfectly ready, and every one at his post, in immediate anticipation of getting under weigh, when the signal midshipman announced, "Our pennant\'s flying, sir." Up went the rolls of bunting, threading their way aloft until they reached the mast-heads of the flag-ship, when they broke and unfolded themselves to the breeze. Their purport being ascertained, Captain Puffeigh was informed that the Stinger was to remain at anchor until sunrise the next morning. Upon receiving this order the commander directed "the engine-room fires to be banked, and the crew piped to dance and skylark;" thus giving the officers and men an opportunity of writing farewells to their friends.

Captain Puffeigh retired to his cabin, called for a supply of pens, ink, paper, and old crusted port, and proceeded to torture himself into letter-writing condition. In a short time he worked his ideas up to literary red-heat, and produced the following extraordinary effusion, during the manufacture of which he had blessed the paper, execrated his spectacles, and, in fact, blamed everything, but his own dull brains. Mrs. Puffeigh being young and pretty, we fear did not see much to admire in her husband, and was not at all sorry to be once more free from his oriental attentions.

    "H. M. S. Stinger, off Spithead,
    "16 November, ——.

    "Robby\'s own Pet,

    "I am sorry I cannot come on shore to say one more good-bye to my Tooty. I know that horrid Captain Dasher will be with you at the pic-nic about this time; but my pet will keep him at a distance. Don\'t give the dog too much meat, and discharge that saucy maid of yours, find out if you can to what ship her fellow belongs, his name is James Green.

    "I almost cry when I think how lonely you must be, poor Tooty, keep up your spirits. Tell the gardener to discharge his boys, and send all the peaches to the fruiterers. Keep the cellar key yourself, and if my brother visits you, give him bin three, port, it is good enough for a curate. How will my pet get on without me. Keep up your music, and don\'t paint your dear little face, don\'t you remember how people laughed at me at the archery meeting, when I wiped Tooty\'s face and the stuff came off.

    "Pretend to be gay, and show the envious ones that you are happy—don\'t waltz, darling pet. Doctor Muddle says, it\'s the very worst exercise you can take, slow dances are not so bad. I hope you will visit your relations as much as possible, particularly those who do not wish you to invite them in return.

    "I have a pair of your dear little bootikins, which stand in my cabin, I look at them with tears in my eyes.

    "Put the servants on board wages when you are absent.

    "With a billion kisses from your own doting

    "Robert Puffeigh."

[Pg 38]

Tooty screamed with delight when she read this letter, but followed her own inclinations in spite of its warnings.

The lieutenants and other commissioned officers were in their respective cabins, emulating their captain\'s example in letter-writing. Crushe scrawled two epistles which ran as follows:—

    "Stinger, at Spithead,
    "16 November.

    "My Beloved Aunt,

    "Providence has ordained that I shall be chastened by being separated from those I love. I kiss the rod, and submit with resignation.

    "You will be happy to hear, my dear aunt, that I am in a ship where the voice is raised in supplication, and where we can meet, when we choose, for mutual improvement. One of our officers, named Cravan, is seriously seeking, and I trust will become a shining light. I gave your beautiful tracts to our boatswain, a most worthy young inquirer, who, I doubt not, will make good use of them. He remarked, "if he had ten times as many they would be acceptable," which gratified me exceedingly. We were obliged to flog that wretched man, Clare, yesterday. I did all I could for him, but he was hardened, and refused a tract offered him by the boatswain. I enclose my mite towards the Reverend Mr. Bulpurp\'s chapel, give it him, with my humble prayers for the cause.

    "My poor wife still refuses to join our blessed band, and therefore will not visit you. I am much concerned about her hereafter. She refused to read that excellent book you gave me for her special perusal. You may remember it was called "Beauty a Sin;" pray for her, dear aunt, and for your unworthy nephew,

    "Howard Crushe."

    (No date.)

    "Dear Mary,

    "Another of your weak compositions has reached me; how foolish you are to waste your time in endeavouring to make me believe you care for me. I have no money to send you. Ask your doting father for some. So you still refuse to visit my aunt, and assist me to secure her money.

    "Very good; until you do this I shall not answer another of your letters.

    "Your afft. husband,
    "Howard Crushe."

When Crushe\'s aunt perused her letter she wiped her eyes, declared "he was too good a husband for such a wife," and sitting down wrote an order for one hundred pounds, which she forwarded to his agents, with directions to place the same to her nephew\'s account.

His wife read hers with a sad heart, and when she had received its last keen stab, cried bitterly, and wished the grave might soon be her resting-place.

The manly fellow who wrote them anticipated these results.

LIEUTENANT FORD TO MISS ——.

    "Dearest Florence,

    "I have but a few seconds in which to scratch farewell. Your letter of yesterday reached me. I did not know that Clare\'s wife had been your maid. Tell her I will get him into my watch, and do all I can for him, for your dear sake. He[Pg 39] bore his punishment nobly, and even his enemies must have admired his courage. Cravan (you know, the man who made himself so ridiculous at the archery meeting) is in our ship. I never speak to him except on duty. Your sweet miniature shall never be parted from me until I claim you as my wife.

    "I told Clare that you knew his wife, and had interested yourself about him, and he seemed thoroughly to appreciate your good action.

    "With love to Kate and Reg. and Chin-chin to Mamma and Papa, believe me to be ever your devotedly attached

    "Ernest.

    "H. M. S. \'Stinger,\' Spithead, 16th November."

The gun-room was a scene of the most lively disorder. Most of the lads were leaving home for the first time, and consequently had a great deal to communicate to their friends, yet every now and then they would cease writing, and turn their attention to squabbling with their neighbours about desk room.

The questions of boundary lines and elbow rights being settled, these combative bantams would challenge each other "to cut for glasses round." The article divided for was by them facetiously termed "stout;" a cask of this cholera-mixture being on tap under the mess-table. Affixed to the bulk-head was a notice, running as follows:—

    "In future, any officer ordering stout, must attend to the following: When the steward stoops under the table, he must whistle, and continue at this exercise until his head is again upon a level with the mess-table. In default of which, boots and other blunt weapons may be used.

    "(Signed) Palgrave Brown,
    "Caterer."

This stringent regulation was the result of a tendency on the part of their steward to remain unnecessarily long under the table, when ordered to draw the delectable beverage for his superiors.

The said steward was a hang-dog looking object, who had bolted from servitude under a parish undertaker, and sought peace on board a man-of-war, yet found it not, having exchanged one weak tyrant for several bullying, inconsistent, savage little Neros. Some of the youngsters, taking their cue from Crushe, seemed to think the only way they could show their authority was by domineering over the wretched servant; and in spite of Ryan and other gentlemen, would vent their spleen upon the poor fellow, treating him as if he were destitute of feelings.

Between decks forward the crew took leave of their friends according to their various temperaments; some yawned, and told of faithful and faithless loves, vowing one good-bye was enough for most women, while they never would cease to remember others with whom they had consorted. A few stretched themselves out on the bags in the rack forward, and dropped off into a broken sleep, from which they would start with a wondering air, observing to those around them that they "was werry near off that time."

Seated near the cook\'s galley was a careworn-looking sailor, cheek on hand, evidently so deeply buried in thought as to be quite unconscious of the babel around him. He was thinking of the past, when, in spite of mother\'s prayers and father\'s warning, he determined to leave his home and enter the navy. Bitterly he regretted the unspoken compliance which rose to his lips, when his mother begged him "not to go to sea, but stay to comfort her in her old age," and, angered by the silence of his father, he steeled his heart against them, and the words, "Father, I\'m wrong; forgive me," were never uttered.

[Pg 40]

He remembered how, when leaving their cottage, he heard the old man angrily refuse to call him back, saying, "He don\'t mean it, and will be home again in a few days." He nearly faltered then, but dreaded the kindly laugh which would follow if he returned. Brave heart to face the lash and degradation, rather than submit to the will of one who loved him, although he was a little harsh at times.

He left them in anger, and never afterwards communicated his whereabouts, or sent them a word of comfort; but he was never out of their thoughts, and their last years were racked with torturing anxiety on his account. After a long absence, he returned to England, and bent his steps towards his native village, thinking with the gold he had earned to cheer his aged parents, and heal their bruised hearts—wondering, as he passed along the streets, why the people stared so; mistaking children for their parents, and taking young men for old, in his eager desire to be recognized by some one. The very ale-house sign was cold in its appearance, and swung lazily on its hinges, as if to wave him off. "I don\'t know you," said the children. "I don\'t know you," echoed the trees—and the whole place seemed to enter a protest against his re-appearance among them. "Well, never mind! mother will know me," he thought; "and father will be glad to see me, I dare say;" and he turned down the lane in which stood his home. An old woman was in the porch. He shouted to her, "Mammy, here\'s Joe," upon which she tottered in and closed the door.

"What!" he bawled, "up to your old tricks, mammy, hiding again? Come, let me in. I\'m real glad to see you." As he said this, he reached the threshold and rapped playfully, to hasten her re-appearance.

As no answer was given, he lifted the latch and walked into the house, where he was confronted by the woman, who ordered him to "begone and not worrit her." He gazed on the old crone in speechless amazement, until she again urged him to depart, upon which he mumbled something about "her not being his mother."

The woman, finding he was much affected, tendered him a seat, and he soon learned that his father was sleeping calmly by the side of his faithful spouse, in the village churchyard. He got up and walked to that place like one in a dream. When he stood by their neglected graves the choke rose in his throat, and bitterly he repented the sad consequences of his rash step.

The old sexton seeing some one at the graves, thought possibly he might be a relation of those buried there; so he hobbled to his side, and with parrot-like volubility told him, "there lies two good old folks, who died broken-hearted because their boy left them to go to sea, and was never again heard of;" and the sailor felt his utter loneliness, that he was an outcast, a very dog, with no one in the world to love or care for him.

These thoughts came crowding into his brain, and he writhed under the magic of their influence. However, after a time they left him, when he arose, and preluding the transformation with an oath, became once more a rough, callous fellow, "a daring, reckless sailor."

A knot of ordinary seamen and boys were collected around one old tar, who was evidently "a man of mark among them." This ancient mariner did not impart choice moral instructions to his audience; far from it, he was what they called "yarning," and his reminiscences savoured of back slums and low dens, but were not on that account less interesting to those about him. When he laughed they followed suit, and woe betide the man who dared contradict "Old Jemmy," or for one moment doubt the veracity of his "tough ones;" while instant squashment would be the doom of any boy who did not laugh louder or believe more implicitly than the men. Offerings of[Pg 41] grog and tobacco were made by his obsequious admirers, and he was in that condition graphically described by sailors as "werry tight."

"Does any o\' you remember Limpin Lew?" demanded this old man, adding parenthetically, "I suppose none of you ever knowed her, though."

"I knowed her rayther!" squeaked a small boy, who was standing on a shot rack, so as to get a full view of the old Tycoon\'s face.

"Did you?" mumbled the ancient mariner. "I should like to know how the likes of you became ack-vainted with sich an elegant field-male?" saying which this oracle placed a plug of tobacco between his toothless jaws, and looked round until he spied out the small boy, who, being thus challenged, retorted—

"Vy shouldn\'t I know her, vhen she drinked herself to death at my fauther\'s?"

"Your father\'s! who\'s your father?" growled the patriarch.

"Bill Jordun, wot keeps the Blue Postes at Portsea—he\'s as good a man as you, anyhow."

Much to the astonishment of the spectators, the daring child was not slain, or maimed for life; but with a look of the most profound admiration, the hoary sinner drew forth his tobacco box, which he tendered, to the lad, requesting him to "help hisself," remarking as he did so, "Wot! the kid of my old chum Bill? Lord love you, sit down along side of me, vy, I\'ve been as tight as an owl at your old man\'s many\'s the time. I\'ll be as good as a father to you, my boy; see if I don\'t."

The ancient mariner religiously kept his word—with a rope\'s end—and the lad repeatedly had occasion to "anything but bless" the memory of "that elegant field-male Limpin Lew."

A few of the men were seated at their mess-tables, scrawling off their epistolary farewells. Tom Clare was one of these—crippled as he was, he managed to write to his wife.

    H. M. S. Stinger,
    Nov. 16, ——

    "Dear Polly,

    "We leave in a few hours for a foreign station, it is now all past, and I am wot they cal a free man once again. Tell her, the angell as you knows,—I menshun no name for fear of accident,—that I thank her for her kindness to you. I wait patient until I see you again. Love to Mother and Father. I have you always in my hart until death do us part, God bless my wife.

    "From Thomas Clare, A. B., to Mrs. Clare, care of Mrs. Morks, 41, John Street, Portsmouth, or if not there, to Mrs. Clare, Kingsdown, near Deal, Kent.

    "Write soon, she will tell you were too,

    "Tom Clare."

Mr. Thompson not only wrote to Mary Ann, but also in consideration of sundry glasses of grog, acted as amanuensis to several of his shipmates. The letter to his intended running thus:—

    Pentonwille, afloat off Spithead.

    "Dear Miss Mary Ann Ross, Perfection in Wimen,

    "This comes opin to find you well as leafs me at present with a full intenshun to bolt as soon as i gets harf a chans.

    "I am sorry to ad your brother in lawer is a brute, i knowed he were a mene kus but i did not think \'im wishous, being a perfec tyerant.

    "He gave us a trete a flakin pore T. Clare, i was horri-fied and his pore wife a[Pg 42] faintin over the ship\'s side, and the skipper as hard as a stone, which i hope she will bolt with some good looking feller and drive him into a lunatic a-sylum. T. Clare behaved like a bric—but enuf of those melancholy subjex which I dismiss with love to Mrs. Shever and wishin her a better husband that i feels as if i would like to punch his edd.

    "P. S. Give my love to your cousin Amelia, alsow to that red-ed-ded gal the cook next door, if so be you don\'t objex, she avin a bligh of my sister Fanne in Australia.

    "P. S. Remember me, Horatio, to the sarjunt, but don\'t allow no other soljar nere your lips, dere Mary Ann.

    "P. S. P. S. Minde you keep clear of that young Carpenter who is after no goode.

    "P. S. If this should meat the high of the cook, give her my love, also a kiss if you don\'t objex.

    "P. S. S. S. S. S. We are going to the Cape of Good ope tomorro before breakfast, so dri your tears, dispell your fears, for true you\'ll always find me i must and will return again to the girl i left behind me.

    "Jerry Thompson, A. B. on board H. M. Ship Stinger. Seamen\'s Letter bag."

Mr. Price, the boatswain\'s mate, not being able to write to his good lady himself, had captured a bull-headed boy and under threat of dire torment compelled him to write to his dictation. The lad was directed to "chalk down" every word his persecutor uttered, and he followed his instructions with Chinese exactness.

Every now and then the bull-headed one would thrust out his tongue, square his elbows and settle close to the paper, until there seemed every probability of his resting his cheek upon the letter and indulging in a short slumber. When Price saw the closely-cropped poll inclining paperwards, he would, seize his victim by the scruff of the neck with his left hand, while his right would be operating upon the person of the secretary with a motion which rapidly took the kink out of his vertebra, and made him sit as upright as a soldier: "If you goes a kissin of the paper again I\'ll rope\'s end you!" said Price, after having jerked his clerk into position for the tenth time.

This is the result of Price\'s system.

    "16 Nov.—Mind your i am going to write a few lines hold up your head you d—ear Eliza we are going to leave for a furrin, isn\'t so I say it is, furrin station to-morrow. Now then keep up my half pay note is given to the paymaster you infernal little f—ond line. All my clothes was right but a nod sock right on the paper none of your lip and the ditty box lid was broke you young warmint. I\'ll give you something to wake you up in love to Meryar hold your jaw also my respects to Mister Mags wot keeps the Red Lion.—keep up and be—also to all inquirin friends lay down again and I\'ll give you this rope\'s end which you knows. We flaked Ths. Clare and I hurt my wrist a so doing and will give you just the same if you don\'t mind your high. If you can write me W. Price boatswains mate starboard watch H. M. S. Stinger Cape of Good ope or elsewear to be forwarded if left till called for, lord bless you all I\'ll cut you in halves if you go a kissin agin like that, your lovely husband, Bill Price."

(Mrs. Price was somewhat puzzled with the foregoing, but finding the half-pay came in regularly, she consoled herself with that, and telling her neighbours "that her Bill was off his chump.")

On the morning of the 17th November the Stinger got under weigh, and after saluting the flag of Admiral * * *, steamed slowly down the British Channel.

The last link of the chain, supposed to bind folks to their native land, having been severed the Stingers turned their faces towards the future, and their more immediate attention to matters connected with securing boats and anchors.

[Pg 43]

The screw continued its music, and rattled away at a tune which lasted, with intervals, until the ship returned to England. It was an auxilliary screw—a noisy, bumptious, mad little article—going off with a bang, as if desirous of giving every one a headache; after which it would undergo a paroxysm, and worry at a great rate—at first free and strong, then gradually quieting down to a dead strain, like a blind man\'s dog when held in by its owner. Thus people who did not know the secret of its weakness would imagine it a very powerful, hard-working auxiliary.

Sometimes it stopped dead, or jingled like a tambourine, when Mr. Sniff, the chief engineer, gravely doctored it with pantomime property forceps, which operation would somewhat relieve it, and start it clattering on its way again. When the wind freshened it would drag after the ship in a lazy, sulky manner, leaving a curve of bubbles to mingle in her wake as if in silent protest against the superior force of its rival. But let the breeze fall light, with a sudden kick it would throw off the water, rattle, and rush; and when thus excited, had been known to propel the Stinger at the dizzy rate of six knots an hour.

After they were out two days the commander opened his despatches, and informed his officers that "they were bound for the Cape of Good Hope," which they already knew, although not officially.

"Going to the Cape of Good Hope! hurrah!" cried Jerry Thompson, who had not scrupled to listen to the communication made by Puffeigh to the first lieutenant. "Going to the Cape, my boys; hurrah for fat-tailed sheep and Cape smoke!" It seems Thompson had been there before.

Clare was placed in Lieutenant Ford\'s watch. He went about his work in a quiet, unassuming manner, and became a prime favourite of that officer. No one interfered with him, and he would never trouble his shipmates except on matters of duty.

Captain Puffeigh took a great fancy to Thompson; and one day called him, and questioned him as to his antecedents. "Have you not sailed with me somewhere, my man?" demanded the commander. "It\'s my brother you know, sir," replied the scamp. "We\'re so werry much alike, that our mother don\'t know us." This remark partly satisfied Puffeigh, who thereupon rated Jerry to be his coxswain. "I know I\'ve seen you somewhere, though," he repeated. "My eyesight isn\'t first-rate, but I seem to remember your features."

It was probably a very good thing for the coxswain that Puffeigh\'s vision was imperfect.

The Stinger made the best of her way Capewards, and Crushe relieved the dullness of the passage by experimenting on the endurance of the crew. Five times the gratings were rigged, and the disgraceful farce of justice enacted, five men broken into obedience, or rendered worse demons than before.

The ship, however, in due time arrived in Simon\'s Bay, and proceeded to refit. The first order given being "no leave allowed to any one while we are in this place."

Commander Puffeigh accepted the hospitality of one of the merchant houses, and took Jerry on shore to act as his valet. While there an adventure befell them, which we will narrate in the next chapter.