“Oh, d—n it all, George, don't do that,” says the young gentleman, all in a hurry.
Then the commander saw he had touched the right chord. So he played on it, till he got Lord Tadcaster to pledge his honor not to do it again.
The little fellow gave the pledge, but relieved his mind as follows: “But it is a cursed tyrannical hole, this tiresome old ship. You can't do what you like in it.”
“Well, but no more you can in the grave: and that is the agreeable residence you were hurrying to but for this tiresome old ship.”
“Lord! no more you can,” said Tadcaster, with sudden candor. “I FORGOT THAT.”
The airs were very light; the ship hardly moved. It was beginning to get dull, when one day a sail was sighted on the weather-bow, standing to the eastward: on nearing her, she was seen, by the cut of her sails, to be a man-of-war, evidently homeward bound: so Captain Hamilton ordered the main-royal to be lowered (to render signal more visible) and the “demand” hoisted. No notice being taken of this, a gun was fired to draw her attention to the signal. This had the desired effect; down went her main-royal, up went her “number.” On referring to the signal book, she proved to be the Vindictive from the Pacific Station.
This being ascertained, Captain Hamilton, being that captain's senior, signalled “Close and prepare to receive letters.” In obedience to this she bore up, ran down, and rounded to; the sail in the Amphitrite was also shortened, the maintopsail laid to the mast, and a boat lowered. The captain having finished his despatches, they, with the letter-bags, were handed into the boat, which shoved off, pulled to the lee side of the Vindictive, and left the despatches, with Captain Hamilton's compliments. On its return, both ships made sail on their respective course, exchanging “bon voyage” by signal, and soon the upper sails of the homeward-bounder were seen dipping below the horizon: longing eyes followed her on board the Amphitrite.
How many hurried missives had been written and despatched in that half-hour. But as for Staines, he was a man of forethought, and had a volume ready for his dear wife.
Lord Tadcaster wrote to Lady Cicely Treherne. His epistle, though brief, contained a plum or two.
He wrote: “What with sailing, and fishing, and eating nothing but roast meat, I'm quite another man.”