Eleven o'clock was the hour set for sailing, and long before that time he and the captain were seated on the steamer's deck, where all was bustle and confusion.
Porters and cabmen jostled one another, stevedores were shouting themselves hoarse in giving orders to their perspiring gangs; careless passengers were searching frantically for missing luggage, and in little retired nooks and corners, out of earshot of the gay, laughing groups around them, could be seen a wife taking a tearful leave of a husband, or a father and mother bidding a fond farewell to a son going out into the world to seek his fortune.
Presently the captain of the steamer took his stand upon the bridge, bells began to ring, and a shudder ran through the mighty craft as the donkey engines were set in motion and began the work of warping her out of her berth toward the entrance to the dock.
Captain Sterling, who was continually thinking of some important thing which he had neglected to say to his young friend, talked incessantly, all the while looking about among the passengers in the hope of finding a familiar face.
"If I could only run across just one friend for you to talk to it would shorten the voyage by a good many miles," said he; "but they are all strangers to me. However, you will not long want for company. Don't expect too much of sea-sick people. At least wait until you leave Madeira before you denounce them as a boorish, unsociable set."
At last Gravesend was reached, and there the steamer paused for a few moments to take breath and summon her strength for the run down the Channel—at least, that was what Oscar's companion said.
A hoarse voice, which sounded like the sigh of a tired nor'wester, shouted, "All ashore!" whereupon the kissing and hand-shaking between friends and relatives who were about to separate were repeated, and the passengers made a rush for the gangway.
"Good-by, my dear boy! My heart goes with you, and if I had a few years less on my shoulders I should go with you in person."
The kind-hearted old fellow's voice was husky, and there was a suspicious look about his eyes, as he took Oscar's hand in both his own, and wrung it energetically. His short acquaintance with Oscar had affected him just as the blast of a bugle affects a superannuated cavalry horse.
It had brought back the memory of old times to him so vividly that he almost fancied he was young again.