The passage was entirely uneventful, for no extraordinary weather was experienced, and while every man in the ship knew his duty and did it well, they were an exceedingly taciturn lot, being nearly all pawky Scotchmen. Having given their guests the best reception in their power and treated them in every way as first-class passengers, they left it at that, as if they felt that it was no part of their duty to amuse and entertain their guests as well. And doubtless they were perfectly justified in their own eyes, but for my part, having been in a few of them, I detest a silent ship. It always seems as if everybody was sullen or as if some trouble was brewing.
Certainly it did so here to our friends, for Mary said to her husband on the third day—
“Whatever can be the matter with these folks, they go about like automata, and whenever I have spoken to one of the officers or the captain they have seemed so embarrassed and troubled that I have felt quite guilty, though for the life of me I can’t think of what. Their whole stock of conversation seems to consist of ‘ay,’ long drawn out, or a funny noise that they make with their mouths shut, all m’s. The chief officer did say the other day when I remarked how beautiful the weather was, ‘that’s a faact, mem,’ but he got quite red in the face over it.”
C. B. laughingly reproved her for her criticism, and reminded her how the silent folks were almost always those who did most. And in any case if their hosts were silent the ship was as near perfection in every respect as a ship could be.
And so she remained. Through the dreaded waters of the Great Australian Bight, where she fought out a tremendous easterly gale in splendid fashion, through the intricate navigation of Bass’s Straits, where she behaved like a yacht against light, baffling winds and unfavourable currents, and then as with a howling “Southerly buster” behind her she flew north at the rate of fourteen knots an hour, she won the most whole-hearted and lavish admiration from her guests. Mr. Stewart waxed enthusiastic, a rare thing for him, and going up to the captain, who was standing with impassive face near the binnacle, he burst into praise of the ship and her many superb qualities as far as he could tell, having travelled a good deal at sea. To which the captain rejoined drily, “Aye, she’s no’ a bad ship.”
Presently they opened up the wonderful harbour of Port Jackson, so cunningly concealed as to its entrance that our greatest navigator sailed right past it unsuspectingly, and after picking up a pilot filled away again and sailed up to the crowded anchorage like some mighty bird settling down to its nest and gradually folding its wings. There was a crash and a tremor all through the ship as the anchor fell, and there she lay, another passage safely accomplished, and her passengers’ hearts full of joy.
CHAPTER XXIV Home at Last
In one hour from the time the Ben Ledi’s anchor was dropped off Sydney Cove, C. B., Mary and Mr. Stewart were in the fine offices of the firm with which the latter gentleman had deposited the small remainder of his fortune, and explaining as briefly as possible the vicissitudes which had attended their journeying thither. They were welcomed with great cordiality by the head of the firm, Mr. Oliphant, who at once invited them to come and be his guests in his beautiful home on the shores of Wooloomoolloo Bay, where they could rest and refresh themselves while they made their preparations for the last stage of their journey. They all smiled at the idea of their needing either rest or refreshment after the luxurious life they had been leading of late, but gratefully accepted the good man’s offer nevertheless.