The last southern cruise was drawing to an end, and many were the conjectures as to which place we should depart for England, but the general belief was that it would be Bermuda. When arriving here, at the conclusion of the cruise, we heard news which faded the brightest hope and caused much murmuring. It was to the effect that we had to sail to the fisheries once more. Away to Halifax for another share of warm clothing' and at this port complaining ceased, and I will let you into a secret—the sausages proved the remedy. Who could grumble when living upon such dainties?
On reaching St. John's we saw great improvements in the city. During our absence wooden buildings had been erected, and the appearance of a devastated place had vanished. I will write of two incidents which occurred—the first being pleasant, the second unpleasant. Our ship had moored one evening in a creek on the west of Newfoundland. It was a notorious place for salmon. A large net was put across the creek at its narrowest width, and on hauling it into the boat ninety salmon were caught. These were distributed to the messes, who all enjoyed the salmon dinner, being a pleasant change from salt meat.
Sailing in the second cutter with a high wind blowing and having 'put about,' I noticed the lee-main-stay was not made fast, but was dangling outside the boat. I rose from the bottom of the cutter and stretched out my hand to seize it, when instantly the lee gunwale dipped under water and so did I, with the exception of my right leg, which was jammed crossways in the rowlock. In this position I was carried along for a distance of forty yards, and when the squall had passed over, the boat's crew pulled me in. When naval cutters are under sail the rowlock fittings are filled up with a piece of wood, which corresponds to the fitting. Someone had neglected to slip this piece of wood into the rowlock which held me by the foot. Thank God for that neglect; it was a kindly Providence, for it saved my life from drowning.
CHAPTER V
HOMEWARD BOUND
Homeward Bound! All our stores which we borrowed from Halifax were transferred to the 'Pelican' for her to return. We left St. John's harbour one Sunday evening en route to Plymouth. The crews of the 'Buzzard' and 'Pelican' hailed us 'farewell' as we slowly steamed away from our moorings, and crowds of people gathered on the wharfs to witness our departure. The paying-off pennant was streaming far astern, and every heart felt glad to see it. It was a sign of something beyond expression. Just one more look at the city, a hastening glance at our two companion ships, and we had cleared the harbour. In an hour the land was lost to view, and we were in a dense fog, ploughing the deep, bound for Old England. The wind proving favourable, plain sail was made, and for the next five days we made rapid headway. On the sixth day the wind veered round to the opposite quarter, and in consequence sails were furled, and our speed decreased. However, we were able to make sail again on the ninth day.
What was my intense joy when on the morning of the eleventh day the man on the look-out shouted "Eddystone Lighthouse off the port bow, sir!" This delightful cry had almost the same effect as if the boatswain's mate had piped, "Clear lower deck," as nearly all hands rushed on deck. Breakfast was piped shortly afterwards, but only a scanty number went below to partake of it. I stood entranced with the old familiar scenes which were now becoming more and more visible; in fact, I cannot tell what feelings took possession of me. I have often since felt that the three years' separation from home and loved ones were compensated by the joy of home-coming.
Yes, there was Maker Tower—the last object I beheld when leaving Plymouth in the 'Himalaya' three years before. Nearer and nearer we sailed until all the surroundings became distinct. Rame Head was passed, then Penlee Point, and now the Breakwater Lighthouse loomed in sight.
"Clear lower deck! Hands shorten and furl sail!" was the order. "Come along, lads, it is the last time," said some sympathetic voices.
The guns were made ready for saluting the Admiral and the Port. Then, having anchored, the salute was fired, the port guard-ship replying. A dense fog now settled down on Plymouth Sound, much to my disappointment, for I was on the look-out for my father's approach. Soon there was a cluster at boats round the ship, which had conveyed from the shore all manner of commercial men—Jews with watches for sale, and tailors with their patterns—for no bluejacket would be without his private suit—and others with articles of food. Only a limited number, however, were allowed on board.