I found Smellie on board, and all hands, including a strong gang of dockyard workmen, still busy, late as it was, putting the finishing touches to the repairs. The provisions, water, and other stores had been shipped during the day; but the boat, to replace the one destroyed, would not be ready until the next morning.
My uncle had been trotting round, giving the little craft a thorough inspection, during the time I had been engaged with my junior, and expressed himself as being much pleased with her handsome model. When we were ready to return to the shore he proposed that we should take little Smellie with us; and we accordingly all three trundled over the side into the shore-boat, which we had detained—leaving Hardy to superintend the finishing touches—and rowed down the harbour again in the light of a beautiful, clear full moon.
Sir Peregrine was in high spirits that evening at dinner; he said it reminded him of his young days to be down there once more, and he completely unbent from his usual stateliness, so that we spent a most delightful evening, turning in about midnight.
I awoke early next morning, and, having roused out my second in command, we walked down to the dockyard to hurry the people up with the new boat, which they were just finishing off.
We returned to the hotel to breakfast at eight o’clock; and by ten a.m., having completed all my business on shore, we once more chartered a wherry, and went on board, my uncle accompanying us. On reaching the “Vigilant” I found that the new boat had been delivered and was hoisted in, the dockyard gang was clear of the ship, and everything was ready for an immediate start. I accordingly gave the word to unmoor, and in another quarter of an hour we passed out of the harbour with a nice little breeze from about N.N.E.
My uncle remained on board until we were abreast of Cowes, when he ordered the wherry—which had been towing astern—to be hauled alongside. The “Vigilant” was hove-to; my uncle shook hands with little Smellie, slipped a five-pound note into the hand of Chips, the carpenter’s mate, for the crew to drink my health, and then, taking a hasty but most affectionate leave of me, hurried over the side into the wherry, seized the yoke-lines, and bade the boatman make sail for Portsmouth Harbour. We at once filled away again; and two hours afterwards passed through the Needles.
Nothing worthy of note occurred until we were half-way across the Bay of Biscay, when, about four bells in the forenoon watch of a most delightful day, with a moderate breeze from the westward, and a very long swell, but no sea, the lookout man aloft reported a sail broad on our lee bow.
I was in the cabin at the time, reading.
“What does she look like?” inquired Smellie, who had the watch.
“I can only see the heads of her fore and main-topgallantsails,” replied the man, “but I believe she is a frigate, sir.”