Chapter Twenty Two.
Missing!
“Humph! that makes the rubber,” cried the Captain late one evening, some little time after the events recorded in the last chapter, when they were winding up the day with a game of whist, which had succeeded the nightly battle of cribbage wherewith Mrs Gilmour and the old sailor used to amuse their leisure before the advent of the barrister and Mrs Strong on the scene. “What say all you good people to a trip to Southampton to-morrow? There will be an excursion steamer running there in the morning, starting from the old pier at ten o’clock sharp, I think.”
“All right; now you’ve beaten us, I suppose you want to appear generous, and divert our attention from our defeat,” said Mrs Dugald Strong, with a fine touch of sarcasm, as the Captain chuckled over the odd trick, and collected the spoils of war, in the shape of sundry little fish-counters, which he and his partner, aunt Polly, had won, through the old sailor’s successful manipulation of the cards. “I believe we’ve seen all that is to be seen in the isle of Wight.”
“Indade you have,” corroborated Mrs Gilmour. “We’ve been everywhere in the sweet little place—no wonder it’s called the ‘garden of England’! Sure we’ve seen everything, from the broken grating of the window which poor Charles the First was unable to squaze himself through at Carisbrook Castle, being too fat, poor man, down to the hawthorn-bush at Faringford over against Beacon Down atop of the Needles, where Tennyson used to hide his long clay pipes after smoking them, before going out for his walk on the cliff. Sure, and I don’t think, Dugald, there’s anything more for ye to see there at all, at all!”
“Oh, auntie, you have forgotten ‘little Jane’s’ grave in the pretty old churchyard at Brading, and the cottage in which the good ‘dairyman’s daughter’ lived at Arreton,” chimed in Nellie, who was more romantic. “Yes, and those dear little Swiss villas too, at Totland Bay, aunt Polly, peeping out from the fir-trees and bracken, with the fuchsias like big trees in their front gardens, and the scarlet geraniums growing wild in the hedgerows!”
“Ah,” said Master Bob, “I liked the smugglers’ cave at Ventnor. I wish they hadn’t boarded it up, so that a fellow can’t see where they used to hide the cargoes of silk and lace and kegs of brandy the French luggers brought across from Saint Malo—wasn’t that where they ran them from, Captain?”
“Aye,” replied the old sailor. “They don’t now, though, my boy. Our coastguardsmen are too sharp for that, and the mounseers have to find another market for their goods! But are you all agreed about our paying a visit to Southampton to-morrow, my friends?”
“It’s a long voyage,” observed Mrs Gilmour, who, although she had forsworn her resolve anent excursion steamers in her desire not to interpose any selfish obstacle, such as her own wishes, to the enjoyment of the others during their holiday by the sea in proper seafaring fashion, yet could not forget the Bembridge Belle catastrophe. “Are you sure the vessel is safe?”
“Oh yes,” answered the Captain. “She’s one of the regular boats, and is as safe as a man-of-war.”
“Then we may consider the expedition arranged,” said Mrs Strong, who, being anxious to see the city of the great Saint Bevis, had no objection to the trip up Southampton Water; for, having been already across the Solent, and even voyaged round the Isle of Wight, so to speak, without feeling sea-sick or qualmish, she was confident of being a ‘born sailor,’ as the saying goes, and thus only too pleased to have an opportunity of testing her new experiences further. “If you say it is safe, Captain Dresser, neither Polly nor any of us need be alarmed, I am sure.”
The next morning, as the steamer was advertised to start punctually at the hour fixed, Bob was warned of his not having much time to spare when setting out for his bathe before breakfast with the good dog Rover.
“Oh, I’ll be back in plenty of time,” was his boastful reply. “I’ll take some bread-and-butter with me for breakfast, and get a cup of milk from the apple-woman on the beach; and shall be at the pier waiting for you before you leave the house.”
“Take care, my boy; we’re rather late this morning, and you are running it pretty close,” said his father, looking at his watch, as the young gentleman was scampering through the hall. “You won’t have half-an-hour altogether to spare.”
But, Bob was obstinate, and away he went across the common, with Rover at his heels.
“I know he will be late,” sighed Mrs Strong, looking after him. “I know he will be late.”
“Well, if he is, he will be left behind, that’s all I can say,” said his father, with decision. “I’m afraid Master Bob has too much of his own way; and, it is just as well he should be taught a lesson sometimes.”
Thus giving his fiat, Mr Strong, apparently dismissing Bob for the present from his mind, hurried the preparations of the others, so that they, at least, should be in good time; and, some twenty minutes after the truant had left, he and Mrs Strong and his sister, with Nellie, started for the pier, arriving there just as the Captain came up in a great hurry, stepping along as briskly as he and his malacca cane could get over the ground.
“Where’s Bob?” he at once asked, missing the absentee. “Where’s Bob?”
“He’s gone to bathe,” replied poor Nell, very disconsolately. “He said he’d get here as soon as we did, but he hasn’t come yet, and I’m afraid he’ll be too late.”
“That he will,” said the Captain, looking equally distressed. “I hear the steamer’s bell ringing—in fact, I heard it before, and that made me quicken my movements. The stupid fellow!—Why did you let him go?”
“Wilful would have his way,” answered Mr Strong, shrugging his shoulders. “It is his own fault, and he must suffer the consequences. Come on, you people; I don’t see why we should sacrifice our trip, at any rate.”
Mrs Gilmour and his wife tried in vain to combat the barrister’s resolution, suggesting that the excursion might be postponed; but he would not consent to this for a moment.
“No,” he said determinedly, “this is the only day we could go; for, when the boat next leaves for Southampton, we’ll most probably be back in town.”
So saying, he pushed them all through the turnstile before him, and taking their tickets, including one for Bob, in case he still contrived to turn up in time, led the way to the steamer, which was blowing off her steam alongside the pier, as if in the greatest haste to start.
They were none too soon; for, hardly had they got on board, ere the engine-gong sounded and the steamer’s paddles began to move, the vessel gliding out into the stream as her hawsers were cast-off.
All looked out eagerly, Nellie especially, almost in tears, hoping to the last that Bob would come scurrying up; but, much to the general disappointment, no Bob came, nor did they even have the poor satisfaction of seeing him appear in the distance after the steamer had left the pier.
“Poor Bob!” bewailed Nell, for whom all the fun of the expedition had departed with his absence. “I knew he would be too late.”
“Never mind, missy,” said the Captain to cheer her up, although he, too, felt sorry at the party being thus lessened in numbers; “you’ll see him when we return this evening, and will then be able to tell him of all the fine sights he lost by not going with us.”
But Nell would not be consoled; for, in addition to Bob’s not being with them, Rover was likewise an absentee, while the Captain had left Dick behind to give the cutter a good clean out, as well as perform other duties. He thought that, perhaps, Mrs Strong might not like the boy being brought with them and treated on an equality with her own children; being taken, apparently, everywhere they went, as he had been before. It need hardly be said, though, that such an idea never occurred to Bob’s mother, who knew well how Dick had risked his life to save her son’s; the thought, really, was entirely due to the old sailor’s ultra conscientiousness!
Under these circumstances, therefore, Nellie did not by any means enjoy the trip; nor did the elders of the party, either, seem happy, all appearing to be equally well-pleased after they had seen Southampton, where there was not very much to see after all, and the boat started back for home.
Soon after the steamer passed Calshott Castle and got into the waters of the Solent, late in the afternoon, the comfort of those on board was not increased by their getting into a thick white woolly sea-fog, which had crept over the Isle of Wight from the Channel.
On their reaching the pier at Southsea again, they found the fog had got there before them; and, crossing the common, they could hardly see each other at a couple of yards distance.
Neither the barrister nor Mrs Strong liked the appearance of things, thinking that this mist of the sea resembled one of their own “London particulars,” and betokened a spell of bad weather.
The Captain, however, made light of it.
“Pooh, pooh!” cried he, “it’s only brought up by the south-easterly wind and will be cleared off by the morning, when you’ll probably have a hotter day than ever.”
This allayed Mrs Strong’s forebodings in reference to the weather, and she began to wonder what had become of Bob during their absence.
“He must have found the day very long, poor boy!” she said. “I wonder what he has been doing?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt he’s been amusing himself,” replied the Captain cheerfully. “I don’t think Bob would remain dull very long if even left alone.”
The same thoughts were passing through the minds both of Nellie and her aunt, although they said nothing; and all were looking forward to their conjectures being solved as to how Bob had passed the time when they should arrive at “the Moorings.”
However, on coming to the house, who should greet them but Rover, who got up languidly from the doorstep, his coat all dripping with wet.
“Poor doggie!” exclaimed Nell, patting him. “Why, you’re all damp with the fog! Your master shouldn’t have been so cruel as to leave you outside. Where’s Bob?”
Usually on being asked this question, Rover’s invariable answer would be a short, sharp, joyous bark; but now, in place of this, the retriever put up his head and uttered a plaintive whine that was almost a howl.
It struck dismay into all their hearts; and on Sarah’s opening the door at the same moment, Nell’s question to the dog was now put to her.
“Where’s Master Bob?”
The girl started back in astonishment.
“Law, mum!” said she, addressing her mistress, Mrs Gilmour. “Ain’t he with you, mum?”
“No,” she replied, much frightened at Sarah’s answer, or rather counter-question; while Mrs Strong grew as pale as death and Nellie clung to her convulsively, Rover’s demeanour having roused their worst fears. “You don’t mean to say you haven’t seen him?”
“No, mum, I thought he was with you,” repeated the housemaid, beginning to cry as if accused of some fault. “I’ve never set eyes on Master Bob since he went out to bathe before you did, mum, this morning!”
“I wonder where the young rascal is?” sang out the Captain in a jovial sort of way, to allay the alarm of the others and hide his own uneasiness. “You’d better get inside out of the damp all of you while I go off to the coastguard-station. I wouldn’t mind betting a brass farthing I’ll find Master Bob there hobnobbing with Hellyer and Dick. He’s very fond of going there to listen to my old coxswain’s yarns when he has got a chance.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Mr Strong, not liking to let him go alone, besides also beginning to feel anxious, adding to his wife— “Go in, Edith! you need not be uneasy. We’ll soon bring back our young truant!”
So saying, he and the Captain, followed by Rover with drooping tail, started for the coastguard-station on the beach.
However, on getting there, their fears, instead of being dispelled, were, on the contrary, alarmingly heightened!
Hellyer told them that he had not come on duty until a late hour in the day; and had then not seen anything of either Bob or Dick.
“The man as I relieved,” continued the coastguardsman, “told me as how he seed two boys in the Cap’en’s boat about midday; and, all at once, arter his dinner, for which he goes into the cabin, you know, he misses the boat and the boys too. But, he doesn’t think anythink o’ this, he says, believin’ they has took her into the harbour.”
“Confound him!” cried the Captain excitedly. “Who was the man? He ought to have known something was wrong when he saw the two lads alone in her like that.”
“He would be a stranger to you, sir,” said Hellyer. “He wer’ a man from the Hayling beat as just come on fresh to jine this station here to-day, sir. He’s a man, sir, of the name of Jones, and rayther soft, like!”
“How unfortunate!” muttered the Captain, while Mr Strong groaned and upbraided himself for his seeming harshness to Bob in the morning. “How very unlucky!”
“Of course,” went on the coastguardsman earnestly, in deep sympathy with both—“the moment the man tells me of this, I knows what happens, seeing that blessed sea-fog a creeping up and the wind falling; and so I goes off to the commander and tells him what I thinks—as how Master Bob and that young Dick o’ yourn, Cap’en, were most likely all adrift and couldn’t fetch in to the land. I—”
“But what did your commander do?” cried the old sailor, interrupting. “Tell me that!”
“Why, sir, he sent word round to all our stations and down to the Dockyard, and he’s telegraphed likewise to the h’island so as how there’ll be a strict look-out kep’ all round the coast for the poor lads.”
“I am very much obliged to you, Hellyer, and to the commander as well,” said the Captain as he and Mr Strong turned away mournfully, retracing their steps back to “the Moorings.” “I’m afraid we can do nothing more now.”
No, nothing more could be done then.
The morning brought no news to gladden their hearts or brighten their hopes.
Matters, indeed, looked worse than had been expected.
For, as the day wore on, reports reached the Dockyard from the different coastguard-stations along the eastern and western coast of the mainland and from the Isle of Wight, whence a strict look-out had been kept on the approaches to Spithead and the adjacent waters of the Channel.
These reports were all to the same effect.
Not a trace had been seen of the missing boat; nor anything heard of Bob and Dick.
It was the same the following day, nothing likewise being then reported; although the search had been redoubled and one of the Government tugs sent out from the harbour to scour the offing.
Hope now gave way to despair before the certainty that stared them in the face, putting possibility beyond doubt.
Everybody believed the boat had been swamped, or run down in the fog, and that Bob and Dick were drowned!
Poor boys!