“That is a capital thing, father. Zaimes was quite right. Your state-room is a very nice cabin, but except that it is a good deal more lofty, it is certainly not so large by a good deal as the main cabin in the Surf; besides, if you had your books you would be always shut up there, and what I thought of all along, from the time you first spoke about coming out, was what a good thing it would be for you to have a thorough holiday, and to put aside the old work altogether.”
“You don’t think it valuable, Horace?” Mr. Beveridge asked wistfully.
“I do, father. I think it most valuable, and no one can be prouder than I am of your reputation, and that all learned men should acknowledge the immense value of your works to Greek students. But, father, after all, the number of men who go into all that is very small, and I can’t see why your life should be entirely given up to them. I think that at any rate it will be a first-rate thing for you, and extremely pleasant for me, that you should be like the rest of us while we are out on this expedition. As Zaimes says, you will have a lot of things to decide upon, and we are going to lead an active, stirring life, and it is new Greece we shall have to think about, and not the Greece of two thousand years ago. It is your aim to raise, not the Greeks of the time of Miltiades, but a people who in these two thousand years have become a race, not only of slaves, but of ignorant savages, for these massacres of unarmed people show that they are nothing better; and not only to free them, but to make them worthy of being a nation again. I think, father, there will be ample scope for all your thoughts and attention in the present without giving a thought to the niceties of the language spoken by Demosthenes, so I am truly and heartily glad you decided to leave your books behind you.”
“I think you are right, Horace; I am sure you are right; but it is a wrench to me to cut myself loose altogether from the habits of a lifetime.”
“And now, father, what are you going to do about clothes?” Horace said, looking at him closely.
“About clothes!” his father repeated vaguely. “I have brought two large boxes full with me.”
“Yes, father, no doubt you have clothes, but I am sure that on board ship—and you will be always living there, you know—it will be much more comfortable for you to have clothes fit for the sea. Frilled shirts, and ruffles, and tight breeches, and high-heeled Hessian boots, and short-waisted tail-coats are all very well on shore, but the first time you are out in a good brisk gale, you would wish them anywhere. What you want is a couple of suits, at least, of blue cloth like mine, with brass buttons, and a low cloth cap like this that will keep on your head whilst it is blowing, in fact the sort of suit that the owner of a big yacht would naturally wear. Of course when you go ashore to see any of the Greek leaders, you might like to go in your ordinary dress; but really for sea you want comfortable clothes, and a good thick pea-jacket for rough weather.”
“Perhaps you are right, Horace, and I did remark that my heels left marks upon the deck of the Surf.”
“Certainly they did, father; and it would be agony to Will Martyn to have the beautiful white deck of the Creole spoiled.”