“Now welcome every sea delight—
The cruise with eager watchful days,
The skilful chase by glimmering night,
The well-worked ship, the gallant fight,
The loved commander’s praise!”—Old Song.
was not without a tinge of sorrow at his heart that Jack Mackenzie stood on his own quarter-deck and saw the chalky cliffs of England fading far astern, as the gloom of eventide fast deepened into night. He was not the one to give way to useless grief, but he could not help contrasting the hope and joyfulness with which he had last left home with his present state of mind. He was not a post-captain then certainly, but he had that—or thought he had—for which he would gladly now take the epaulettes from off his shoulders and fling them in the sea—namely, the love of the only girl he ever thought worth living for. But she— Well, no matter; that was past and gone. His love had been all a dream, a happy dream enough while it lasted, while his heart had been to her a toy. But then his father, his good old careless-hearted father. Wrecked and ruined! That he was in difficulties Jack had known for years, but he never knew how deep these were, nor that they had so entwined themselves around the roots of the old homestead, that to get rid of the former was to tear up the latter and cast all its old associations to the four winds of heaven. Dear old homestead! Somehow Jack had dreamt he would always have it to go home to on every return voyage, always have his father there to welcome him back, always—
“Hallo!” said a voice at his side, “what is all this reverie about, Jack?”
Tom laid his hand gently, half timidly on his arm as he spoke. Half timidly, I say, because it would not do for even the men to note a shadow of familiarity on poop or quarter-deck betwixt a commander and his captain.
Jack smiled somewhat sadly.
“I daresay, Tom,” he replied, “it was very wrong, but I was just breathing one last sigh for lost love and home. Oh, I don’t care for Grantley Hall so much; but then there is sister, and poor father, and it seems rather hard he should take service again. There is just enough saved out of the wreck for them to live on.”
“Yes; and you’ll win a fortune yet, mayhap an earldom, Jack—”
“Stay, Tom, stay. I care nothing for earldoms, and if I win enough to live on I’ll be content. One thing I do mean to win for Flora’s sake—honour and glory.”
“Keep your mind easy about Flora,” laughed Tom. “I’m going to win all the honour and glory she is likely to want.”