“The Emerald, Royal Victoria,” answered our new acquaintance. “You have a singularly fast vessel under you,” continued he; “I believe I may say she is the first that ever passed me in such weather as this. I have hitherto thought that, in light winds, the Emerald has not her match afloat; yet you are stealing through my lee as if we were at anchor. I presume, by the course you are steering, that you are, like ourselves, bound to Weymouth. If so, I should like to step on board you when we arrive, if you will allow me. I am curious to see a little more of the craft that is able to slip away from us as you are doing, in our own weather. I am Lord —,” he explained, thinking, I suppose, that we should like to know who it was who thus invited himself on board a perfect stranger.
I shouted back (for we were by this time some distance ahead of the Emerald) that I should be happy to see his lordship on board whenever he pleased to come; and then the conversation ceased, the distance between the two vessels having become too great to permit of its being continued with comfort.
It was now Bob’s watch below; but the night was so very close that he had brought his bed on deck, and was preparing to “turn in” on the weather side of the companion for his four hours’ sleep. As he arranged the bedding to his satisfaction, he cast his eyes frequently astern to the Emerald, whose sails gleamed ghostly in the feeble light of the moon, which, in her third quarter, was just rising.
“By George, Harry,” exclaimed he, “if they Emeralds bain’t shifting topsails, I’m a miserable sinner! Ay, there goes his ‘ballooner’ aloft. His lordship don’t like the looks of our tail, seemin’ly; but I doubt whether, in this light breeze, his big topsail will enable him to catch us. My eyes! how we did slip through his lee, sure enough! Tell ye what, Harry lad; that topsail of our’n is a good un—a rare good un for a reach, and in a moderate breeze; but we ought to have a ‘ballooner’ for running off the wind in light weather—a whacking big un, with a ‘jack’ as long as the bowsprit, and a yard as long as the lower-mast. I’m beginning to think we are under-sparred and under-sailed.”
I could scarcely agree with Bob in this. It is true that in fine weather we could carry considerably more canvas than we had; but I had a thought for the heavy weather also, and I knew that as soon as it came on to blow we should find our present sails quite as large as we could manage. Nevertheless, I made up my mind that we would have a balloon-topsail, as the voyage would be a long one, and it was possible that we might have spells of light winds for days together, when such a sail could be carried to the utmost advantage.
Notwithstanding the change of topsails, we still continued to creep away from the Emerald, and when we let go our anchor in Weymouth Roads, about six o’clock the next morning, she was still a good three miles outside of us; the wind had, in the meantime, fallen away so light, that it was not until after we had breakfasted that she drifted slowly in and brought up close to us.
Shortly afterwards, Lord — came on board, accompanied by two or three friends; and his astonishment was great when he found that we only mustered two hands, all told. He noticed the absence of a boat from our decks, and inquired whether we had lost ours, and was still more astonished when we informed him that it was taken to pieces and stowed snugly away below.
This led to a request that he might be allowed to see it; and gradually it all came out that we were bound on nothing less than a voyage to the Pacific.
He was by no means inquisitive; his questions were merely such as one yachtsman would naturally put to another. But we knew beforehand that it would be difficult to conceal the fact that we were not merely cruising for pleasure; so we had come to the conclusion that it would be best to put a bold face upon the matter, and state at once that we were going a long trip; and Bob had proposed that, in the event of any questions being asked, we should give out that we were going to seek for some traces of my father.
To this I willingly agreed, as I really meant, if possible, to endeavour to find some clue to his fate; though I could not help acknowledging to myself that, if we did make any discoveries, it would be by the merest accident.