Derval perceived this; a spirit of mischief, caused by revulsion of feeling, rose within him, and the moment he reached the deck, all encumbered as it was by boxes, barrels, bales, and gangways, dock labourers and porters, he gave Mr. Bitts a chase that excited the laughter of all and roused the fury of that personage, by darting hither and thither, with all a boy's agility, round the masts and hatchways till he reached the quarter-deck, at a part of which the side-netting was being repaired; consequently a portion of it was open and the moulded plankshere (a plank which runs all round the timber heads) was hinged up.
While Derval stood here irresolute, and thinking of capitulation, Bitts made a dart at him, on which the latter instantly shrank aside, and his tormentor, in his blind fury failing to perceive the gap in the bulwark, went head foremost overboard and into the water.
Amid shouts of laughter he came to the surface, black as a negro, with the filthy mud and ooze of the harbour bottom, into which he must have been wedged to the shoulders.
"Oh, my eye!" shouted Harry Bowline, who danced a few steps of a hornpipe, "here's a lark—Bitts in the water—man overboard—rope, rope! cut away the life-buoy—man a boat!"
Puffing like a grampus and half choked, the third mate scrambled on board by the mizen chains, minus his colt, and rather more than crestfallen, and while he went below to alter his costume, Derval, after paying his "footing" to the crew—their perquisites for his first going aloft—was sent into a part of the hold where a gang of men were stowing away cases, and where, as it was very dark, his duty consisted in holding a candle to show a light when required.
In an atmosphere and amid features and occupations so new and strange, perhaps Derval thought as little now of the Oakhampton title, the ruined castle, and Wistmanswood, as his father did amid his fast growing wealth; but the time might come for both to lay such matters to heart, and this the future will show.
It was somewhat of a red-letter day for Derval when he first donned his uniform—a gold-laced cap and blue Oxford jacket with gilt anchor buttons, gold anchors on the collars, and ditto lace upon the cuffs—and went on shore, bearer of a letter to Messrs. Dugald Curry & Co., and feeling indifferent to the anxious inquiries of Mr. Bitts, as to whether he thought he resembled Lord Nelson, K.C.B., whether his mamma knew he was absent from home, and at what church he was to meet his intended, and much more to the same purpose.
In time the cargo was all on board, the hatches battened down, the boats secured and inspected, the bills of lading signed—documents whereby the captain of a vessel acknowledges receipt of goods shipped on board, and binds himself ("dangers of accidents, the seas, fire, enemies, &c., excepted") to deliver them in good order to those to whom they are addressed, on payment of the stipulated freight.
The Amethyst was hauled out of dock, and with the blue ensign of the Royal Naval Reserve flying at her gaff-peak, and Blue Peter at the foremast-head, was taken by tug down the river, and came to anchor off Tilbury Fort. Next day began the bustle of preparing for sea; the canvas was fully bent, the royal yards crossed, the studding sail gear rove, the powder brought on board; and in many ways Derval made himself so active, even up aloft, that he quite won the heart of Joe Grummet.
"I knew you would drop into your place in a day or two, youngster," said he, "and you've already done it."