CHAPTER VIII.
HOME.
On the morning of Saturday, the 18th of November, the brig-rigged steamer Mosquito, from the west coast of Africa for London, stopped her engines and came to a stand off the port of Falmouth, to put Helga and me ashore at that town, by the aid of a little West-country smack which had been spoken and now lay alongside.
The English coast should have been abreast of us days earlier than this; but very shortly after the Mosquito had picked us up something went wrong in the engine-room; our passage to Madeira was so slow as to be little more than a dull and tedious crawling over the waters; and we were delayed for some considerable time at Funchal, while the chief engineer and his assistants got the engines into a condition to drive the great metal hull to her destination.
But now the two bold headlands of the fair coast of Falmouth—the tenderest, most gem-like bit of scenery, I do honestly believe, not that England only, but that this whole great world of rich and varied pictures has to show—lay plain in our eyes. Streaks of snow upon the heights shone like virgin silver in the crisp brilliant November sun of that wintry Channel morning, and betwixt the headlands the hills beyond showed in masses of a milk-white softness poised cloud-like in the keen blue distance, as though by watching you would see them soar.
I thanked the captain heartily for his kindness, and then, standing in the gangway with my sweetheart at my side, I asked for Abraham and Jacob, that we might bid them farewell. The worthy fellows, endeared to me by the association of peril bravely met and happily passed, promptly arrived. I pulled out the money that I had taken from Mr. Jones's berth, and said: 'Here are thirteen pounds and some shillings, Abraham, which belonged to that poor mate whom the Malays killed. Here is half the amount for you and Jacob; the other half will carry Miss Nielsen and me to Tintrenale. I will make inquiries if the poor creature had any relatives, and, if I can hear of them, the money will be repaid. And now you will, both of you, remember a promise I made to you aboard the Early Morn. Let me have your addresses at Deal!'—for they were proceeding to the Downs in the steamer.
They told me where they lived. I then extended my hand.
'God bless you both!' I said. 'I shall never forget you!' And, indeed, more than that I could not have said at the moment, for my throat tightened when I looked into their honest faces and thought how Helga and I owed our lives to them.
It was a hearty farewell among the four of us; much hand-shaking and God-blessing of one and another; and when we had entered the smack and shoved off, the two poor fellows got upon the bulwark-rail and cheered us again and again with such contortions of form and violence of gesture that I feared to see them fall overboard. But the steamer was now in motion, and in a very little while the two figures were indistinguishable. I have never seen them since; yet, as I write these words and think of them, my heart is full; if they be living, I earnestly hope they are well and doing well; and if these lines meet their eyes they will know that the heartiest of hearty welcomes awaits them whenever they shall find themselves near my little Cornish home.
The 18th was a Saturday, and I made up my mind to stay throughout Sunday at Falmouth, that I might have time to receive a line from Mr. Trembath, to whom my first business must be to send news of my safe return, that he might deliver it with all caution to my mother; for it was not to be foreseen how a sudden shock of joy might serve her. So we were no sooner ashore than I wrote to Mr. Trembath, and then Helga and I quitted the hotel to make some purchases, taking care to reserve enough to pay our travelling expenses home.