On Monday, May 9, at half-past two in the afternoon—the wind still steady in the same quarter, and blowing fresh—the Suffolk sighted land, making out St. Michael's Mount; and fetching up to Mousehole Island, the captain hailed a mackerel boat to come alongside and take ashore some officers with despatches.
Abe Cummins and Billy Bosistow were both on deck, you may be sure, watching the boat as the fishermen brought her alongside. Not a word had been said between them on the matter that lay closest to their minds, but while they waited Billy fetched a look at the boat and another at Abe. "The best man wins," he said to himself, and edged away towards the ladder.
The breeze, as I said, was a fresh one, with a sea in the bay that kept the Suffolk rolling like a porpoise. A heavier lurch than ordinary sent her main channels grinding down on the mackerel boat's gunwale, smashing her upper strakes and springing her mizzen mast as she recovered herself.
"Be dashed," said one of the officers, "if I trust myself in a boat that'll go down under us between this and land!"
The rest seemed to be of his mind, too. But Billy, being quick as well as eager, saw in a moment that the damaged strakes would be to windward on the reach into Mousehole, and well out of harm's way in the wind then blowing, and also that her mainsail alone would do the job easy. So just as she fell off and her crew ran aft to get the mizzen lug stowed he took a run past the officer and jumped aboard, with two fellows close on his heels—one a Penzance fellow whose name I've forgot, and the t'other a chap from Ludgvan, Harry Cornish by name. I reckon the sight of the old shores just made them mazed as sheep, and like sheep they followed his lead. The officers ran to stop any more from copying such foolishness; and if they hadn't, I believe the boat would have been swamped there and then. As 'twas, she re-hoisted her big lug and away-to-go for Mousehole, the three passengers sitting down to leeward with their sterns in and out of the water to help keep her damaged side above mischief.
So on Mousehole Quay these three stepped ashore, and the first man to shake hands with them was Capen Josiah Penny, of the Perseverance trading ketch, then lying snug in Mousehole Harbour. Being a hearty man he invited them down to his cabin to take a drop of rum. The Penzance fellow, having only a short way to trudge, said "No, thank'ee," and started for home with a small crowd after him. But Bosistow and Cornish agreed 'twould be more neighbourly to accept, and, to tell the truth, they didn't quite know how to behave with so many eyes upon them. Cornish had on a soldier's red jacket with white facings, and a pair of blue trousers out at the knees, while Bosistow's trousers were of white cloth, and he carried a japanned knapsack at the back of his red shirt: and with a white-painted straw hat apiece, you may guess they felt themselves looking like two figures of fun.
So down they went to the Perseverance's cabin, and Capen Penny mixed them a stiff glass of rum and called them fine fellows, and mixed them two more glasses while they talked; and when the time came to say "so long," Billy was quite sure he didn't care for appearances one snap of his fingers.
They linked arms on the quay, where they found a crowd waiting for them, and many with questions to ask about absent friends, so that from Mousehole to Penzance it was a regular procession. And then they had to go to the hotel and tell the whole story over again, and answer a thousand and one questions about Penzance boys imprisoned at Jivvy. And all this meant more rum, of course.
It was seven in the evening, and day closing in, before they took the road again. Billy had fallen into a boastful mood, and felt his heart so warm towards Cornish that nothing would do but they must tramp it together so far as Nancledrea, which was a goodish bit out of Cornish's road to Ludgvan. By the time they reached Nancledrea Billy was shedding tears and begging Cornish to come along to Ardevora. "I'll make a man of 'ee there," he promised: "I will sure 'nough!" But Cornish weighed the offer, and decided that his mother at Ludgvan would be going to bed before long. So coming to a house with red blinds and lights within they determined to have a drink before parting.
In the tap-room they found a dozen fellows or so drinking their beer and smoking solemn, and an upstanding woman in a black gown attending on them. "Hullo!" says one of the men looking up, "What's this? Geezy-dancers?" [3]