“Aye, you will, mother dear, you will!” cried I exultingly.
“And though our boy will not wear the Queen’s uniform like his grandfather, and fight the foe,” continued father, “he will turn out, I hope, as good an officer of the mercantile marine, which is an equally honourable calling; and, possibly, crown his career by being the captain of some magnificent clipper of the seas, instead of ending his days like my poor old dad, a disappointed lieutenant on half-pay, left to rust out the best years of his life ashore when the war was over.”
“I hope Allan will be good,” said mother simply.
“I know he will be, with God’s help,” rejoined father confidently, his words making me resolve inwardly that I would try so that my life should not disgrace his assuring premise.
“I must go in now and tell Nellie,” observed mother after a pause, in which we were all silent, and I could see father’s lips move as if in silent prayer; “there’ll be all Allan’s shirts and socks to get ready. To-morrow week, you said, the ship was to sail—eh, dear?”
“Yes, to-morrow week,” answered father bracing himself up; “and while your mother and Nellie are looking after the more delicate portions of your wardrobe, Allan, you and I had better walk over to Westham, and see about buying some new boots and other things which the outfitters haven’t got down on their list.”
As he was going into such a fashionable place as Westham, the nearest county town to our parish, at mother’s especial request father consented to hide the beauties of his favourite old shooting-jacket under a more clerical-looking overcoat of a greyish drab colour, or “Oxford mixture.” He was induced to don, too, a black felt hat, more in keeping with the coat than the straw one he had worn in the garden; and thus “grandly costumed,” as he laughingly said to mother and Nell, who watched our departure from the porch of the rectory, he and I set out to make our purchases.
Dear me! the bustle and hurry and worry that went on in the house and out of the house in getting my things ready was such that, as father said more than once in his joking way, one would have thought the whole family were emigrating to the antipodes, instead of only a mere boy like me going to sea!
And then, when everything else had been packed and repacked a dozen times or so by mother’s loving hands in the big, white-painted sea-chest that had come down from London—which had my name printed on the outside in big capital letters that almost made me blush, and with such a jolly little washhand-basin and things for dressing on the top of it just inside the lid—the stupid outfitters delayed sending my blue uniform to try on in time; and it was only on the very day before I had to start that it was finished and sent home, for mother and Nellie to see how I looked in it, as I wished them to do, feeling no small pride when I put it on.
Tom, too, got away from Oxford to spend this last day with me at home; and, though he could hardly spare the time, mother believed, from his studies, I think he was more interested in some forthcoming race in which his college boat was engaged.