They put their clothes on awkwardly; it was a difficult thing to manage, both sitting there in that top berth, but they dare not trust the floor, for last night, undressing, they had made a great noise in tumbling about. At last they were ready, and softly opening the door, they stole out into the long strange saloon. For some time they hung close to their own door, there were so many stewards moving backwards and forwards preparing the many tables for breakfast, that they felt timid. But at last confidence came to them, and having found with their eyes the steps that led up to the deck, they shyly let their feet follow. They went up timidly, and backwards—a friend having told them that was the proper way to descend, and they imagined for themselves it must consequently be the best mode of ascent. The awkward mode of progression took some time, and a boy in a nautical cap, who had been worrying the stewards, laughed aloud at them.
They had both secretly imagined a scene of wonderful beauty would burst upon their delighted eyes [127] ]as soon as they gained the deck. Phyl’s mental vision had included a bright blue sea with whales spouting in various parts, albatrosses flying overhead, and perhaps a majestic iceberg in the distance. Dolly had a dear notion that there would be islands dotted about with cocoanut palms waving gracefully, and black people rowing about in little boats.
And oh! such a woefully dull picture they saw! They were barely out of the mouth of the Thames; the sea was grey, the sky grey, the coast dingy. There were numbers of other boats near—fishing-smacks with brown patched sails, long untidy-looking schooners, two or three big steamers coming in, all their gay paint washed off, one with a mast broken, and a very storm-beaten air about her.
Phyl gulped down a tear, the corners of Dolly’s smiling mouth fell down, down.
Then “Oh!” Phyl cried, “just look, Dolly, see the sailors sitting up there on the mast! Oh! look, there goes another one—did you ever see any one climb like that?”
Dolly’s mouth corners came up at this interesting sight.
“What are they doing?” she said; “are they going to put sails up?”
Phyl always assumed knowledge, even though she had it not.
“What do we want with sails?” she said, “this is a steamship, Dolly, you goose. I expect those sailors [128] ]have to sit up there for punishment, that’s the way captains always punish sailors when they’ve been doing anything wrong.”
“He—he—he!” laughed the fiendish boy in a nautical cap behind them.