And serious as the charge was likely to become, it was at length agreed that Jack and Ruth should be included in the party with the Mayburns; and the girl was immediately transferred to the rectory, to undergo a short course of drilling previous to the momentous undertaking.
CHAPTER II.
Departure from Wendon.—Embarkation in the Amoor.—Ruth's Adventures in London.—The Deverell Family.—The Pleasures of the Voyage.—Tropical Wonders.—The Flying-fish.—The Stormy Petrel.—The Albatross.—Deverell's Plans.—The Indian Ocean.—A Storm.
Finally the successor of Mr. Mayburn arrived, was initiated in his office, introduced to his new parishioners, and had promised to supply, as well as he was able, the loss which the mourning poor must sustain in the departure of the charitable family. Mr. Mayburn's old friend, the Bishop of ——, himself accompanied the family to London, directed them in the mode of fitting out for the voyage, and for their new residence, and supplied them with letters of instruction as well as of introduction before he left them. Some weeks of delay followed, and several disappointments; but at length they were induced to embark, with nurse Wilson, Ruth, and Jack, on board the Amoor, a good sailing vessel bound to Melbourne, with many passengers; and from thence to Calcutta, with cattle and merchandise; Captain Barton, who commanded the ship, being an old acquaintance of Mr. Mayburn. Established in a large and commodious cabin, Margaret begged that nurse would keep Ruth always with them, for the girl was distracted with the strange objects around her.
"Sit ye down, lass, and hem that apron," said Jenny, in a tone of authority. "Truly, Miss Margaret, I wouldn't go through the last week again to be Queen Victoria herself, God bless her; and all owing to that unlucky lass. Jack is a decent lad, and it's unknown what a help he was about getting the things here safe; but all the folks in London seemed of one mind that she was fitter for a 'sylum than for a creditable gentleman's family. It's no good blubbering about it now, girl; just see and mind what you are about, for there's no police here to look after you."
"Did the police really get hold of her, nurse?" asked Gerald. "What fun!"
"I never took her out for a walk, Master O'Brien," answered Jenny, "but they had their eye on her; they marked her at once as one that needed watching—a simpleton! Why, it was no later than yesterday morning when she worked on me, fool-body as I was, to go with her to see St. Paul's; and what did she do then but start from my arm and run right across a street thronged with cabs, and wagons, and omnibuses. I just shut my eyes and screamed, for I never thought to see her again living; and there was such a hallooing among coachmen and cabmen, and such screaming of women, as was never heard. How they got all them horses to stop is just a miracle; but when I looked again, there was a lot of police holding horses' heads, and one man was hauling Ruth right across; and he had his trouble, for when she heard all that hullabaloo, she was for turning back to me through the thick of it. Oh! Miss Marget, wasn't I shamed out of my life when they fetched her back to me at last, and one fine fellow said I had better lead my daughter in a string."
Ruth giggled hysterically at the recital of her adventure, and when Margaret said to her gravely,—"You behaved very improperly, Ruth, why did you leave your kind friend, Mrs. Wilson?"
"Please Miss Marget," sobbed the girl; "it was a window full of bonnie babbies."