"Murder!" screamed the lady who was thus abruptly deprived of her infant.
The sergeant, after compelling the indignant woman to retrace her steps up the ladder, handed her over to the police, and proceeded to strip the wrappings off the dummy, which process at last brought to light a large-sized square bottle of "Hollands," seeing which the—mother swooned in the policeman's arms, and was carried to the dock gates, where they laid her outside to come to as best she might. We need scarcely say she recovered as soon as she found herself out of custody.
The sergeant's action was quite correct, for were women allowed to carry spirits on board a man-of-war the men would be simply unmanageable, and the most strict search has to be instituted to prevent liquor being thus introduced by disreputable characters, who as long as they can pillage the sailors do not hesitate to supply them with the most poisonous stuff.
In any cases the various friends were required to name their relatives before they were allowed on board, although it was not always possible to get them to speak, as among this disreputable mob were many genuine mothers, wives, and sweethearts, and some of those became so agitated at the sight of their relations, that they could not speak, but would point with their fingers to the loved ones, and with mute earnestness prove their claims were genuine.
There was much laughter when an old woman would frantically embrace her equally old man. The aged lovers in many cases joined in the roar; but now and then the faces of all, both on shore and on board, were saddened, as some poor creature would come forward and ask to see a husband whom she would never meet again in this world.
Just after the fictitious baby had been disposed of a respectably attired girl passed down the gangway ladder, and seeing Mr. Thompson, with whom she formerly had been acquainted, she laughingly asked him where her Jem was.
"Your Jem, mam? Jem what?"
"Why, don't you know me now you're promoted?" (She saw he was no longer a common sailor.) "Why, Jem Shaw," replied the woman, her mouth moving nervously, as if fearing to hear some ill tidings.
"God bless you, poor soul!—Come down into my cabin," said the sympathizing acting warrant.
The woman followed him as if in a dream; and when she reached the cabin, grasped his arm and demanded if her Jem were alive or not, bidding him out with it, and not kill her with waiting.