“Oh, auntie, you have forgotten ‘little Jane’s’ grave in the pretty old churchyard at Brading, and the cottage in which the good ‘dairyman’s daughter’ lived at Arreton,” chimed in Nellie, who was more romantic. “Yes, and those dear little Swiss villas too, at Totland Bay, aunt Polly, peeping out from the fir-trees and bracken, with the fuchsias like big trees in their front gardens, and the scarlet geraniums growing wild in the hedgerows!”
“Ah,” said Master Bob, “I liked the smugglers’ cave at Ventnor. I wish they hadn’t boarded it up, so that a fellow can’t see where they used to hide the cargoes of silk and lace and kegs of brandy the French luggers brought across from Saint Malo—wasn’t that where they ran them from, Captain?”
“Aye,” replied the old sailor. “They don’t now, though, my boy. Our coastguardsmen are too sharp for that, and the mounseers have to find another market for their goods! But are you all agreed about our paying a visit to Southampton to-morrow, my friends?”
“It’s a long voyage,” observed Mrs Gilmour, who, although she had forsworn her resolve anent excursion steamers in her desire not to interpose any selfish obstacle, such as her own wishes, to the enjoyment of the others during their holiday by the sea in proper seafaring fashion, yet could not forget the Bembridge Belle catastrophe. “Are you sure the vessel is safe?”
“Oh yes,” answered the Captain. “She’s one of the regular boats, and is as safe as a man-of-war.”
“Then we may consider the expedition arranged,” said Mrs Strong, who, being anxious to see the city of the great Saint Bevis, had no objection to the trip up Southampton Water; for, having been already across the Solent, and even voyaged round the Isle of Wight, so to speak, without feeling sea-sick or qualmish, she was confident of being a ‘born sailor,’ as the saying goes, and thus only too pleased to have an opportunity of testing her new experiences further. “If you say it is safe, Captain Dresser, neither Polly nor any of us need be alarmed, I am sure.”
The next morning, as the steamer was advertised to start punctually at the hour fixed, Bob was warned of his not having much time to spare when setting out for his bathe before breakfast with the good dog Rover.
“Oh, I’ll be back in plenty of time,” was his boastful reply. “I’ll take some bread-and-butter with me for breakfast, and get a cup of milk from the apple-woman on the beach; and shall be at the pier waiting for you before you leave the house.”
“Take care, my boy; we’re rather late this morning, and you are running it pretty close,” said his father, looking at his watch, as the young gentleman was scampering through the hall. “You won’t have half-an-hour altogether to spare.”
But, Bob was obstinate, and away he went across the common, with Rover at his heels.