“But you have both heard of Hardinges who were clergymen,” said Grace, endeavouring to smile, though the expression of her countenance was so painful that even now I dislike to recall it.
“And sailors, too,” put in Rupert, a little more stoutly than I thought possible. “My father's grandfather was an officer in the navy.”
“And my father was a sailor himself—in the navy, too.”
“But there is no navy in this country now, Miles,” returned Lucy, in an expostulating tone.
“What of that? There are plenty of ships. The ocean is just as big, and the world just as wide, as if we had a navy to cover the first. I see no great objection on that account—do you, Ru?”
“Certainly not. What we want is to go to sea, and that can be done in an Indiaman, as well as in a man-of-war.”
“Yes,” said I, stretching myself with a little importance. “I fancy an Indiaman, a vessel that goes all the way to Calcutta, round the Cape of Good Hope, in the track of Vasquez de Gama, isn't exactly an Albany sloop.”
“Who is Vasquez de Gama?” demanded Lucy, with so much quickness as to surprise me.
“Why, a noble Portuguese, who discovered the Cape of Good Hope, and first sailed round it, and then went to the Indies. You see, girls, even nobles are sailors, and why should not Rupert and I be sailors?”
“It is not that, Miles,” my sister answered; “every honest calling is respectable. Have you and Rupert spoken to Mr. Hardinge on this subject?”