Chapter Fourteen.
Wrecked.
“How’s that, sure?” asked Mrs Gilmour. “It’s early yet, for the sun’s still overhead.”
“You forget, ma’am, our old friend up there is rather a late bird at this time of year,” replied the Captain. “He hasn’t crossed the line yet, you know.”
“Well, then,” argued the good lady, who was sitting at her ease on a pile of shawls and wraps, enjoying a second cup of tea which Nell had just poured out for her, “where’s the hurry?”
“Oh, pray take your time, ma’am, I wouldn’t like to hasten your movements for worlds, you look so comfortable!” said the old sailor satirically. “Perhaps you’d allow me to mention, however, just in a friendly way, that it is now half-past five o’clock, and the steamer starts at six!”
This made Mrs Gilmour jump up so suddenly that she spilt her tea, which made them laugh; and all set to work in a merry mood to collect their traps for the return journey, the good lady saying she would “never forgive the Captain” for not telling her the time before.
The coastguardsman had to shoulder the hamper when packed, as well as carry the empty water-jar; for, both Bob and Dick, whose respective burdens these had previously been, had rushed off soon after luncheon and when all interest in making a fire and boiling the kettle had ceased, down to the shore, where presently the truants were discovered.
They were wading in the sea, without their shoes and stockings, in high glee, and hunting amongst the rocks for anemones and corallines for the aquarium, having already nearly filled with specimens Nellie’s useful little tin bucket, from which her poor nosegay had been ruthlessly removed.
“Hullo, you boys!” sang out the Captain on catching sight of them, after consulting his watch; “you’ll have to come out of that at once. Time’s up, for the steamer will be due in another five minutes. Look sharp!”
“Do stop a moment,” answered Bob, just then busy at the base of a rock close by the pier, which was nearly awash with the incoming tide, “I’ve found such a jolly sea-anemone here. Come and see it, please, Captain.”
“Are you sure it’s not a weed?” called back the old sailor a trifle impatiently. “We can’t waste any time on rubbish!”
“Of course not; I should think I ought to know an anemone by now, sir!” cried Bob, rather indignant at being supposed capable of making such a mistake, albeit his knowledge on the subject, it must be confessed, was but slight and only lately acquired. “It is coloured beautifully, and looks like a purple chrysanthemum.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed the Captain, forgetting the steamer and his fatigue alike as he hurried towards the spot where Bob was paddling in the water and Dick standing close by, bucket in hand. “Why, it’s the very thing I’ve been hunting for, missy, to set off your aquarium.”
“Mind you don’t get your feet wet!” called out Mrs Gilmour, in great solicitude, as he went off in keen ardour to assist the boys in securing the prize, the good lady adding, as Nellie scampered after him, she contenting herself with remaining higher up on the shore: “Take care, my dearie! I don’t want to have you laid up, with your father and mother coming down in a few days, when I want you to look your best.”
“Never fear, I’ll take care of her and myself too!” sang out the Captain, who by this time, hopping from rock to rock, in which operation he was closely followed and imitated by the giggling Nellie behind him, had reached the boulder where Bob was. “Keep close to me, missy.”
“Don’t touch it for a little while, my boy, I want your sister to see it expanded, and it will close up if you go poking it about. Look, Miss Nell!” he continued, pointing it out to her with the end of his malacca cane, “The sun is just shining on it through the water, and you can sea its colours of pink, purple, and orange. This is one of the actinea, or ‘anthozoa,’ so-called from two Greek words meaning ‘living flowers.’ A pretty name, missy, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Nellie. “It reminds me of a fairy tale aunt Polly told me of the different flowers in the garden having a party and talking together.”
“Precisely, my dear; only the anthozoa can’t talk!”
“But, oh, how pretty this sea-anemone is!” cried she in ecstasies, not noticing his little bit of satire. “It is wonderful!”
“It is, my dear,” replied the Captain; “although it’s one of the commonest forms of the actinea family. As Bob said just now, it is very like a chrysanthemum; and, if anything, more beautiful, which you can see for yourself before we try to shift its lodging. It is called by a fearfully long scientific name, which to my mind does a positive injury to the poor beast. What do you think of such a jaw-breaker as ‘mesembryanthemum,’ eh?”
“Oh!” ejaculated Nell, “what an awful word! I’m sure I shall never be able to remember it.”
“You must, missy, if you want to describe properly the inmates of your aquarium, where this gentleman is now going to make a move for. Now, Bob,” went on the Captain, turning round to the boys, who were anxiously waiting, all eagerness to commence proceedings, “put that knife of yours, that you have been brandishing all this time, carefully under the base of the poor beggar, and try to peel him off, as I see the rock is too smooth for us to break away. Mind you don’t touch the animal with the sharp point, though; for the slightest scratch will kill him.”
Nellie watched Bob with eager attention from the top of the boulder; while Dick held the little tin bucket below the sea-anemone, so as to catch it as soon as it had been separated from the rock. At the first touch of Bob’s knife, the anemone shrunk in, showing nothing but a row of blue turquoise-like beads around its top or mouth; the rest of the animal appearing to be but a dull lump of jelly, all its vivid colours and iridescent hues having vanished on the instant of its being assailed by Bob with that formidable weapon of his.
“It’s wounded!” cried Nellie impulsively. “Don’t hurt it, Bob, poor thing!”
“It’s all right, missy,” said the Captain, consolingly. “It always shrinks like that when any one interferes with it. But, look sharp, Bob, there’s your aunt waving her handkerchief like mad from the pier-head to say that the steamer’s coming in; and, by Jove, there she is, rounding the point!”
They did look sharp; the boys, after the anemone was secured, scampering ashore in extra high spirits on account of the old sailor telling them that they had no time to put their shoes and stockings on, and would have to go on board the Bembridge Belle without them, like a pair of mudlarks.
The Captain hurried, too, jumping from rock to rock and boulder to boulder, a precaution now even more necessary than before, from the tide having risen considerably even during their short delay and being now nearly at the flood.
Sure-footed himself as an old sailor, though holding Nellie’s hand to prevent her slipping, he found time, in spite of his hurry, to point out to her, growing on the beach under the low cliff, beyond where the keeper’s lodge stood, a solitary specimen of the “sea cabbage,” whose bright yellow flowers and fleshy green leaves, he suggested, would be an addition to the general effect of her bouquet, which, by the way, Mrs Gilmour had taken charge of while she went anemone-gathering, after this had been discarded from the bucket.
“It isn’t bad eating, either, when on a pinch for green stuff,” added the old sailor; “and I’ve seen boys hawking the plant about for sale at Dover. But, let us push ahead, missy—run, boys, run, the steamer’s alongside!”
With their shoes and stockings slung over their shoulders, Bob and Dick pattered along the shaky suspension bridge to the pier in advance, making good way in their bare feet; but, old as he was, the Captain was not far behind, going at a jog-trot that made Miss Nell step out to keep pace with him.
However, they were not sorry when they reached the pier-head, for, all the while they were running, the steam-whistle of the Bembridge Belle was screeching away, as if telling them they would be too late, and threatening to start off without them if they did not hurry.
“Just did it!” gasped the Captain, setting foot on the gangway and jumping on board, dragging poor Nellie almost in as breathless a state after him, Bob and Dick having already preceded them. “By Jove, it was a near squeak, though!”
“Sure, it’s your own fault you’re not cool and comfortable like mesilf,” said Mrs Gilmour, whom Hellyer had escorted to the pier. He had, likewise, secured a good seat for her in the stern-sheets of the boat, as the Captain had previously done; and here she was now snugly ensconced when the late-comers arrived— “How hot you do look, to be sure!”
“Humph!” growled the Captain, not making any further reply to her rather exasperating remark until he had finished mopping his flushed face with a bright bandana handkerchief of the same red hue; when he added grimly, as if somewhat out of temper, “If I’m hot, ma’am, you’re cool, that’s all I can say!”
Mrs Gilmour, however, was used to his ways and knew how to humour him.
“Now, don’t you go pretending you’re angry,” she said, laughing merrily. “You needn’t, sure, for I know better!”
“As you please, ma’am, as you please, ma’am,” he replied, adding with his usual chuckle— “I know you are bound to have your own way, ma’am, whether I like it or not!”
They both laughed at this, these little tiffs between them being of frequent occurrence, especially of an evening over the cribbage-board; and, matters being again on a comfortable footing, they turned to the children, who were looking out, as before, over the side at the various objects that presented themselves as the Bembridge Belle ploughed her way back to Southsea.
The steamer passed quite close to one of the harbour forts in the sea, guarding the approaches to Spithead; and, of course, Bob, who with Dick had now again donned his shoes and stockings, wanted to know all about the imposing structure with its frowning guns, by the side of which the boat they were in seemed a veritable cockleshell, although a fairly good-size; vessel.
Equally, of course, the Captain had to tell him what he knew—how the fort was built of solid masonry, sixteen feet thick, with two feet of armour-plating outside that; and how the little fortress, as it undoubtedly was, had a well dug deep down into the sands below the sea, to supply its garrison with fresh-water in the event of communication being cut off with the mainland. To provide against which contingency it was also provisioned and furnished with every requisite to stand a siege.
He was explaining all this, when a large screw-steamer, high in the bows and low in the stern, crossed the Bembridge Belle making for Portsmouth.
“Hullo, ma’am!” cried the Captain, glad to have the opportunity of a sly dig at Mrs Gilmour in remembrance of her previous amusement at his expense, “there’s your pig-boat!”
“What!” said she innocently. “I don’t understand you.”
“The Irish pig-boat, ma’am,” he repeated, his beady black eyes twinkling and his bushy eyebrows moving up and down, as they always did when he said anything funny. “It brings your fellow-countrymen over here twice a week.”
“You’re very complimentary, sir,” said she. “Very complimentary, I declare!”
“Not a bit of it, ma’am,” he replied, delighted at the idea of her taking his remark seriously. “Don’t you, in your ‘swate little island’ call poor piggy ‘the jintleman who pays the rint,’ eh?”
“Sure,” she retorted with a smile, taking up the cudgels on behalf of her country, “there are more pigs in England than what come over from Ireland!”
“I cry a truce!” exclaimed the old sailor laughing heartily, Bob and Nell, too, as well as Dick, appreciating the joke hugely; “you had me there, ma’am, you had me there!”
The Bembridge Belle was now well across the waterway, rapidly nearing the pier from which they had originally started in the morning, and Mrs Gilmour was just saying what a very enjoyable day they had passed, in spite of all mishaps, while Nellie was priding herself on the grand collection of wild-flowers she had made with her aunt’s help, and Bob and Dick busy over the bucket, showing Hellyer the various treasures they had picked up amongst the rocks on the shore; when, all at once, the bows of the steamer struck against something in the channel, with a concussion that threw nearly everybody off their feet—the shock being succeeded by a harsh grating sound as if her hull was gradually being ripped open.
“Good gracious me!” cried out Mrs Gilmour, “what on earth is that?”
Nobody, however, for the moment, attended to her: nobody, indeed, even heard the question; for the scene of quiet enjoyment which the deck had presented the moment before was changed to one of utter confusion, the shrieks of frightened women and hoarse cries of some of the men mingling with the screams of children and the noise of escaping steam, roaring up the funnel.
Captain Dresser had hastened forwards to the forecastle of the ill-fated vessel to see with his own eyes what had happened as soon as the steamer struck, being immediately followed by Dick and Bob, who left Nellie clinging to her aunt in great consternation.
As for the skipper of the poor steamer, he seemed to have lost his head completely, for he was shouting out orders one moment from the bridge and contradicting them the next: while the crew were rushing about the decks aimlessly, one going here and another there, without apparent end or purpose, every one looking bewildered from the want of proper leadership.
“Keep calm, ladies!” the skipper sang out at intervals between his orders to the seamen and firemen, whom the incessant sounding of the engine-room gong had brought up from below. “Keep cool; there’s no danger, I tell you!”
He himself, however, appeared so perturbed, that his assurances increased, instead of lessened, the panic amongst the passengers, who huddled together in groups like startled sheep; and Nell clasped her aunt’s hand tightly, the two awaiting in great anxiety Captain Dresser’s return from his inspection of the vessel forwards.
They were not long kept in suspense.
After a brief interview, which seemed an eternity, the old sailor re-appeared aft.
His face looked very grave.
“I’m sorry for the old Bembridge Belle” he said in a low tone to Mrs Gilmour, so as not to be overheard by the other passengers standing near. “The poor thing has a large hole knocked through her fore compartment, and is filling with water fast!”