Chapter Nine.
At Sea.
“Well, here we are, my hearty!” said Uncle Jack, who was on the watch for him at London Bridge station, and greeted him the moment the train arrived; “but, come, look sharp, we’ve a lot to do before us, and precious little time to do it in!”
Teddy, however, was not inclined at first to “look sharp.”
On the contrary, he looked extremely sad, being very melancholy at leaving home, and altogether “down in the mouth,” so to speak.
This arose, not so much from the fact of his parting with his father and sisters, dearly as he loved them all in his way; but, on account of poor Puck, who, whether through grief at his going away, which the intelligent little animal seemed quite as conscious of through the instinct of his species as if he were a human being, or from his chronic asthma coming to a crisis, breathed his last in Teddy’s arms the very morning of his departure from home!
The doggy, faithful to the end, was buried in the garden, Conny, Cissy, and Liz attending his obsequies, and the two latter weeping with Teddy over his grave, for all were fond of Puck; but none lamented him so deeply as he, and all the journey up to town, as the train sped its weary way along, his mind was busy recalling all the incidents that attended their companionship from the time when his grandmother first gave him as a present. He was a brisk young dog then, he remembered, the terror of all strange cats and hunter of rabbits, but his affection had not swerved down to the last year of their association, when, toothless and wheezy, he could hunt no more, and cats came fearlessly beneath his very nose when he went through the feeble pretence of trying to gnaw a bone on the lawn.
Poor Puck—requiescat in pace!
Still, doggy or no doggy, Uncle Jack was not the sort of fellow to let Teddy remain long in the dumps, especially as he had said there was a good deal to be done; and, soon, Teddy was in such a whirl of excitement, with everything new and strange around him, that he had no time left to be melancholy in.
First, Uncle Jack hailed a hansom, all Teddy’s belongings in the shape of luggage being left in the cloak-room at the terminus, and the two jumping in were driven off as rapidly as the crowded state of the streets would allow, to Tower Hill, where the offices of the shipping agents owning the Greenock were situated.
Here Uncle Jack deposited a cheque which the vicar had given him, and Master Teddy was bound over in certain indentures of a very imposing character as a first-class apprentice to the said firm, the lad then signing articles as one of the crew of the Greenock, of which vessel, it may be mentioned, Uncle Jack had already been appointed chief officer, so that he would be able to keep a watchful eye over his nephew in his future nautical career.
“Now that job’s done,” said Uncle Jack when all the bothersome writing and signing were accomplished and the vicar’s cheque paid over, “we’ll have a run down to look at the ship; what say you to that, eh?”
“All right!” responded Teddy, much delighted at the idea; and the pair then were driven from Tower Hill to the Fenchurch Street railway-station, where they dismissed their cab and took train for the docks, the state of locomotion in the neighbourhood of which does not readily permit of the passage of wheeled vehicles, a hansom running the risk of being squashed into the semblance of a pancake against the heavy drays blocking the narrow streets and ways, should it adventure within the thoroughfares thereof.
On their arrival at Poplar, Uncle Jack threaded his way with amazing ease and familiarity through a narrow lane with high walls on either hand, and then into a wide gateway branching off at right angles. Entering within this Teddy found himself in a vast forest of masts, with ships loading and unloading at the various quays and jetties alongside the wharves, opposite to lines of warehouses that seemed to extend from one end of the docks to the other.
Uncle Jack was not long in tumbling across the Greenock, which had nearly completed taking in her cargo and was to “warp out next morning,” as he told Teddy, who didn’t know what on earth he meant by the phrase, by the way.
There appeared to be a great deal of confusion going on in front of the jetty to which she was moored; but Uncle Jack took him on board and introduced him to Mr Capstan, the second officer, as a future messmate, who showed him the cabins and everything, telling him to “make himself at home!”
The Greenock was a fine barque-rigged vessel of some two thousand tons, with auxiliary steam-power; and she gained her living or earned her freight, whichever way of putting it may please best, by sailing to and fro in the passenger trade between the ports of London and Melbourne, but doing more in the goods line on the return journey, because colonials bent on visiting the mother country generally prefer the mail steamers as a speedier route. Emigrants, however, are not so squeamish, contenting themselves in getting out to Australia, that land of promise to so many hard-up and despairing people at home, by whatever means they can—so long only as they may hope to arrive there at some time or other!
Teddy was surprised at the gorgeousness of the Greenock’s saloons and cabins, and the height of her masts, and the multitude of ropes about running in every conceivable direction, crossing and recrossing each other with the bewildering ingenuity of a spider’s web; but Uncle Jack took all these wonders as a matter of course, and rather pooh-poohed them.
“Wait till you see her at Gravesend,” he said. “She’s all dismantled now with these shore lumpers and lubbers aboard, and won’t be herself till she’s down the river and feels herself in sailors’ hands again. Why, you won’t know her! But come along, laddie, we’ve got to buy a sea-chest and a lot of things to complete your kit; and then, we’ll go to granny’s and try to see something of the sights of London.”
So, back they trudged again to the Poplar station and were wafted once more to Fenchurch Street, where Uncle Jack dived within the shop of a friendly outfitter, who had a mackintosh and sextant swinging in front of his establishment to show his marine leanings and dealings.
Here, a white sea-chest, whose top was made like a washing-stand, and several other useful articles, were purchased by Uncle Jack without wasting any time, as he had made up his mind what he wanted before going in and knew what he was about; and these things being ordered to be forwarded to the cloak-room at the London Bridge station, to be placed with Teddy’s other luggage, Uncle Jack rubbed his hands gleefully.
“Now that business is all settled,” he said, “we can enjoy ourselves a bit, as the ship won’t be ready for us till next Monday. Come along, my hearty! Let us bear up for granny’s—you haven’t been to her place before, have you, eh?”
No, Teddy explained. Granny had often been down to Endleigh to see him, but he had never been up to town to see her; that first attempt of his, which had been frustrated by Mary’s pursuit and the machinations of Jupp, having deterred him, somehow or other, from essaying the journey a second time. Indeed, he had never been to London at all.
“My!” exclaimed Uncle Jack. “What a lot there’ll be for you to see, my hearty, eh?”
What is more, he showed him, too, all that was to be seen, taking Teddy to monuments and exhibitions, to galleries and even to the theatre.
The time passed by rapidly enough—too rapidly, granny thought, when the day came for her to say good-bye to Teddy; but he was nothing loth to go, longing to be on board the Greenock as one belonging to her of right, and feel himself really at sea.
Granny wanted him to have another little dog in place of Puck; however, he couldn’t make up his mind to a substitute to supersede the former animal’s hold on his affections. Besides this, Uncle Jack said the captain did not allow anybody to have dogs on board, and that was a clincher to the argument at once.
Monday morning came, and with it another railway journey. It really seemed to Teddy as if he were “on the line,” like Jupp!
The Greenock, having taken in all her cargo, had been warped out of dock and then towed down the river to Gravesend, where she was now lying moored in the stream off the Lobster.
“There she is!” cried Uncle Jack when they got down to the beach.
“Where?” asked Teddy, not recognising the dirty untidy hulk he had seen in the docks, as she first appeared to him before he was taken on board and noticed the elegance of her cabins, in the thing of beauty he saw now before him; with every spar in its place and snow-white canvas extended in peaceful folds from the yards, as the vessel lay at anchor with her topsails dropped and her courses half clewed up, ready to spread her wings like an ocean bird.
What a change there was in her!
“Look, right in front there, laddie,” said Uncle Jack. “Can’t you see? She’s just about making-sail, so we’d better get on board as soon as possible. Hi, boatman, seen any one belonging to the Greenock ashore?”
“Aye, aye, sir,” answered the man addressed, “her boat’s just over there by the p’int, just agoin’ to shove off.”
“Thank you, my hearty,” said Uncle Jack, giving him a trifle for the information; and in another minute or so Teddy found himself in the Greenock’s jolly-boat in company with a lot of the new hands, like himself, going off to join the ship. Here on his arrival on board, he was introduced to Captain Lennard, the monarch of all he surveyed as far as the deck of the Greenock was concerned, and his future commander.
Teddy liked the look of him; while he, on his part, seemed to like the look of Teddy, smiling kindly when he saw him come over the gangway after Uncle Jack. He had the general appearance of a brown Jupp, being of the same height and with just such a smiling good-humoured face, with the exception that his hair and beard, instead of being black, was of a lighter and ruddier hue.
Oh, yes, Teddy thought, Captain Lennard was the man for him. He looked easy and kind-hearted and would not bully people, as he had read of some brutal captains doing.
“This your nephew?” he asked Uncle Jack politely.
“Yes, sir,” replied the other, touching his cap, being in regular nautical rig now, as also was Teddy, who, clad in spick-and-span reefer costume, felt as proud as Punch.
“Ah! then, if he’s like you I think we’ll get along very well together, Mr Althorp,” said the captain with a bow and smile. “He looks like a chip of the old block too!”
“You’re very good to say that, sir,” stammered Uncle Jack, blushing at the compliment. “The youngster’s very like my poor sister, and I suppose resembles me, as she and I were twins. I’ve no doubt, though, you’ll find him teachable when he’s licked into shape; for, he isn’t a bad lad from what I have seen of him as yet, and is plucky enough, if all I’ve heard of him down at Endleigh be true.”
“Well, Master Vernon, I hope you’ll justify the character your uncle gives of you. If you only obey orders there’ll be no fear of our falling out. But, mind, I’m captain of this ship; so look out for squalls if you shirk duty or try on any tricks!”
The captain said this pleasantly, but there was a stern look combined in the twinkle of his hazel eyes beneath their thick brown eyebrows, like penthouses overshadowing them; and Teddy felt that, with all his gentleness and joking way, he was a man who intended to command and likewise to be obeyed.
A moment later Captain Lennard changed the conversation by asking Uncle Jack if all the hands were on board.
“Aye, aye, sir,” said the other. “The whole batch, I think, came out with us. Isn’t that so, Mr Capstan?” he asked, turning to the second-mate, who was standing close by.
“Yes, all hands aboard,” replied the second-mate laconically.
“Then make sail at once,” said Captain Lennard, going aft on the poop; while Mr Capstan bustled forwards, shouting out as he scrambled up on the windlass bitts and thence to the fo’c’s’le, “All hands make sa-i–il!” drawling out the last word as if it were a chorus to some mariner’s ditty he were singing.
The crew were all picked men, the majority having been in the ship on one or two previous voyages; so they were quite at home, and sprang into the rigging long before the second-mate had got to the end of his refrain.
In a second, the topsails were dropped and sheeted home, and the rattling of the clewgarnet blocks told of the courses following their example; after which the hands aloft then loosed the topgallant, there being a fine breeze fair for the Downs.
Teddy was puzzled for a moment by all the seeming confusion that reigned in the ship, with ropes flying about and cordage cracking, while the hoarse orders issued by Mr Capstan and Uncle Jack were answered by the cheery cry of the men, singing out lustily as they hoisted and pulled at the halliards with a will. But, the confusion was only momentary and in appearance only; for, hardly had he begun to realise what all the bustle was about, than the ship was clothed in canvas from truck to deck, like a lady attired for a ball all in white!
The headyards were then backed, and Captain Lennard’s voice rang through the vessel fore and aft as clear as a bell—
“Hands up anchor!”
Then, the windlass was wound; and, slip, slap, click, clack, it went round the pawl belaying every inch of cable got in.
“Cheerily, men! heave with a will!” urged the second-mate; and the brawny fellows bent all their strength to the handspikes, heaving them down with sheer brute force.
“Hove short!” presently sang out Mr Capstan.
“Up with it!” responded Captain Lennard from the poop, where the pilot now appeared by his side awaiting all these preparations to be completed before taking charge of the ship.
Half-a-dozen more heaves and the anchor-stock showed above the water.
“Hook cat!” cried the second-mate.
“I wonder what that means!” thought Teddy. “I hope they won’t hurt the poor thing!”
But, the next moment, he was undeceived.
Nothing in the shape of cruelty to animals was about to be perpetrated.
Mr Capstan only ordered the men to hook on the tackle by which the head of the anchor was to be braced up; and, before he could say “Jack Robinson,” if he had been that way inclined, the falls were manned and the anchor run up to the cathead with a rousing chorus as the men scampered aft with the tail-end of the rope.
The headyards were then filled, and the ship bowed her head as if in salute to Father Neptune, the next instant gathering way as the sails began to draw.
“Port!” sang out the pilot from the bridge.
“Port it is,” responded the man at the wheel, shifting the spokes with both hands like a squirrel in a cage, it seemed to Teddy, who was looking at him from the break of the poop, where he had taken up his station by Captain Lennard’s orders so that he might the more easily see all that was going on.
“Steady!”
“Steady it is,” repeated the helmsman in parrot fashion.
And so, conning and steering along, the Greenock was soon bounding on her way down channel, passing Deal and rounding the South Foreland before noon.
Teddy at last was really at sea!