That night the Queen's good ship "Thunderer" weighed anchor from the roadstead where she had been lying off Wilton, and with canvass stretched, and engines at full speed, swung down the Bristol channel on the ebb tide, to join the flying squadron on a six months' cruise. And though many a heart, of seamen and officer alike, felt heavy at parting from sweetheart or wife, in none was there the dull, hopeless agony that dwelt behind the stern face of Chief-engineer Campbell, as he talked on deck with his fellow-officers, or issued his orders to his men below.
CHAPTER II.
WHY THE SAD GOOD-BYE WAS GIVEN.
In commission—At home in Malta—After long years—Settled at Wilton—Unwelcome tidings—Unavailing skill.
Fourteen years ago, amid the mists of Scotland, there was a bonny wedding at a hill-side kirk; the bride, a sweet young English girl, who had left her southern home to pay a visit to her uncle, the old village-pastor; the bridegroom, a stout sailor, home from sea for a short while at his native village. And after a six weeks' happy wooing, a happy wedding took the two away, far from the heathery hills and the mountain lochs; far from the moors and fells of Scotland.
A brief honeymoon of quiet, unmarred happiness, and Alan Campbell received instructions to join his ship, ordered to Malta for three years. His wife, of course, could not sail with him, so he took a berth for her in one of the ordinary passenger steamers that run from Southampton to the island. And after seeing her safe on board one rainy April afternoon, her tearful face itself like April weather, he took the evening mail-train to Plymouth, and the following morning was on board his ship. It was not long before his impatience was gratified, and the "Thunderer" steamed out into the English Channel.
Thus over the great waves, through time of sun and stars, through storm and shine, sailed the two parted many miles of heaving sea; Minnie, pale and trembling in her little cabin, with the noise of the waters ever sounding in her sleepless ears; Alan pacing to and fro in the heat and throbbing of the engines of the "Thunderer."
It was a joyful meeting at the island-fortress in the blue Mediterranean. Alan obtained leave to sleep on shore, and took a little white cottage that overlooked the bay, where the good ship "Thunderer" lay at anchor; and there, at her outhanging window, every evening Minnie would sit, looking so anxiously across the bay towards the great black hull of the vessel, till a gig would put off that brought Alan home to her.
So the days and weeks went on. The spring died into the summer's flowery lap; the summer ripened and mellowed unto the golden autumn; and when the year's late last months were come, there was another inmate in the little cottage by the bay; another pair of eyes, blue as the mother's, to greet Alan as he came home at night; another pair of hands to hold and call his own.