The Salamander was to lie here for a whole week, so we would be certain to enjoy ourselves if—ah! there always is an if. I do not believe there ever was a castle in the air yet that had not a big ugly ogre living in some corner of it. Supposing father were killed, or something happened to mamma.
But here was the Cape at last, and the bay, and the town, and the grand old hills above. It was early in the morning when we dropped anchor, but there was plenty of bustle and stir on the water nevertheless. The houses looked very white in the sun’s glare, which was so bright on the water that we could scarcely look on it. The hills were purple, grey, and green with patches of bright crimson here and there, for it was early summer in this latitude. Indeed, everywhere around us was ablaze with sunlight and beauty. But all this fell flat on Jill and me, and we did not feel any near approach to happiness till the boat was speeding swiftly towards the landing with us. For somewhere in shore yonder lived, we hoped, all we held truly dear.
Chapter Eleven.
Life at Sea—Poor Father’s Death—Mattie and I.
Where did Major Jones of the —th live?
Was the regiment in town?
These were only two out of a dozen questions we asked about two dozen people on the street. And greatly to our astonishment, no one could give us a definite answer. We thought all the world knew our papa.
At last we met a smart sergeant of marines, who told us afterwards he was just up from Symon’s Town on a few days’ outing. Our father’s regiment had gone to the front, away up country, but he would go with us to the barracks. He did so, and got an address—that of the house where the major used to live; and he walked with us that distance, then bade us good day.