ON BOARD THE “PRINCE”
There wasn’t an instant to waste in questions. The captain of this steamship prided himself upon his exceeding punctuality, and had often declared that if he delayed for one passenger one day he would have to do so the next; that somebody was always late; that it might be that delinquent’s misfortune if he were left but was not Captain Murray’s fault.
Knowing this fact Judge Breckenridge handed his sister her ticket and Molly’s, hastily bade her:
“Go aboard, Lucretia, while I claim our luggage. Miss Greatorex may already be there.”
“Step lively, please!” requested a sailor in a blue uniform as the lady began to slowly mount the almost upright ladder. Other sailors were speeding up and down it, between the ascending passengers and an air of great bustle and haste pervaded the whole scene.
Then the blue-coat gallantly put his hand under Mrs. Hungerford’s arm and fairly shoved her up the plank. Molly sprang lightly after, caught her foot in one of the little cross-pieces nailed across the plank to prevent people slipping and sprawled her length, hindering everybody a deal more than if she had climbed more slowly.
However, they gained the deck and Dorothy’s side in safety, and took their stand against the rail to watch the Judge and many another passenger hurriedly identifying their baggage ranged under the wharf shed; and, as each piece was claimed, to see it swiftly tossed upon a skid and rolled into the lower part of the ship.
Captain Murray stood at the foot of the ladder, chronometer in hand, a picture of calm decision; while another uniformed official faced him from the other side the plank, to scan the tickets presented. Judge Breckenridge finished his task and also climbed to the deck, while a sigh of relief escaped Aunt Lucretia’s lips.
“That’s all right! I got so worried lest we should miss the steamer and there isn’t another sailing for three days. I’m so glad to get our things! I never do feel comfortable until I see my trunks aboard my train or steamer.”
“Yes, indeed! A woman bereft of her ‘things’ is a forlorn creature!” laughed the Judge, in gentle sarcasm, but his sister disdained reply. She merely reflected how much greater annoyance her brother would have felt had his sporting outfit been delayed and this was the very first piece of luggage he had identified—her trunk the last. However, there was the utmost good nature in their jesting intercourse, and both now turned their attention to the wharf where the “very last” passenger was hurrying to the ladder.