CHAPTER XX.
Di Vernon—The Gull light—Naked warriors—Monkey—Medway—Eyes right!—Old things—Bargees—Street boys—Young skipper—Scene by night—Barge lingo—Holy Haven—Sailing solicitor—Margate.
Perhaps a sleep in wet clothes, such as we have awakened from, was more likely to do harm than any of the blasts and breezes at sea; but nothing followed, and indeed during the whole of my six voyages alone there was neither a headache nor any other ache, not even a cold, and the floating medicine-chest yawl was never opened.
Dover had been the port of departure and again of arrival, for my first canoe voyage, and the memory of that delightful tour was recalled now by seeing a canoe paddling in the harbour. On closer scrutiny it was perceived that a young lady was its crew. Now there are several fair Members [272] of our Royal Canoe Club, and we are quite prepared to ballot for some more, but the captain had not yet been fortunate enough to see one of these canoeistes on the water, so at once the dingey gave chase.
This was the lady’s very first essay in a canoe, nevertheless she succeeded admirably in her effort, for it is far easier to learn a little of paddling than a little of rowing, as every neophyte can tell you.
Henceforth I shall always know that a Rob Roy can well be matched by a Di Vernon, and how much the most gentle movement afloat can be refined by feminine grace. A few hints from the older paddler in the dingey were rapidly taken up by the apt scholar in the canoe, while her friends rowed beside us in a boat, and at length with that English pluck which so many English girls possess, she boldly steered into a steamer’s swell, and then to the open sea, where, before a soft zephyr murmuring its undertone whispers, we hoisted her parasol for a sail, and the visitors on Dover pier had a novel treat in the duet between dingey and canoe.
Fairly rested next day, the yawl sailed by Ramsgate Cliffs until calm and tide made us anchor in a hot baking sun.
The ‘Gull Lightship’ was not far off, so we sculled to her in the dingey. This was the very first time I had myself actually seen the Rob Roy on the water with all sails set, nor dare I conceal the pride that was felt in looking at her graceful contour, her smart and sensible rig, and her snowy sails so beautifully set, as the sunbeams lit them up; viewed from a little distance, the yawl was only like a toy boat resting on a sheet of glass.
The men of the ‘Gull’ with its red sides and red lantern masts, received me with surprise, but with most grateful thanks for books to read, and then they pressed their visitor to stop for dinner!