Adrift in a Boat

by William Henry Giles Kingston

We must now go back to the picnic party. Mr Sowton and Mr Burnaby, and a few of the other more elderly ladies and gentlemen, began at length to think it time to return home. The hampers were repacked and carried, some up the cliffs by the servants, and others on board the yachts; and Mr Sowton and Billy Burnaby acting, as they said, as whippers-in, began shouting and screeching at the top of their voices. Captain Rymer and Mr Moreton had gone on board their vessels to get ready, and thus there was no one actually in command. The boats to take off the party were rather small, and several trips had to be made. In the meantime, those who were returning home by land climbed up the steep path to the top of the cliff, where their carriages were waiting for them. When they were fairly off, each party inquired what had become of Harry and David. Captain Rymer’s yacht, the Arrow, was off the first, for the Psyche, Mr Moreton’s, fouled her anchor, and it was some time before it could be got up.

Mr Moreton thought that his son, and the young midshipman had, attracted by sweet Mary Rymer, gone on board the Arrow; while Mary, who, it must be owned, was rather sorry not to see them, took it for granted that Harry was returning, as he had come, by land, and that David had gone with him.

The yachts had a long beat back. As they got away from the land, the wind increased very much, and came in strong sharp cold gusts which made it necessary first to take in the gaff-topsails, and then one reef and then another in the mainsails. As the wind increased the sea got up, and the little vessels, more suited to fine weather than foul, had hard work to look up to the rising gale. Still there was no help for it. The tide helped them along, but by its meeting the wind much more sea was knocked up than if both had been going the same way. Had such been the case, the vessels could not have made good their passage. Darkness coming on made matters worse: poor old Mr Sowton became wonderfully silent, and Mr Burnaby, who was sitting on the deck of the cabin, holding on by the leg of the table, looked the very picture of woe. Mary Rymer, who was well accustomed to yachting, and a few others, kept up their spirits, though all hailed with no little satisfaction the lights which showed the entrance to Pencliffe harbour, into which they were bound.

Mr Moreton’s party had been at home some time, and most of the family had retired to their rooms, when they began to wonder why David had not appeared.

“He is probably still at the Rymers’, or has accompanied Harry to Mrs Merryweather’s,” said Mrs Moreton to her husband; still, as night drew on, she became somewhat anxious. Her anxiety increased when a servant came with a message from Mrs Merryweather to inquire why Mr Harry did not come home.

Mr Moreton himself now became even more anxious than his wife. Neither his daughters, nor some friends staying with them, remembered seeing either Harry or David for some time before they embarked.

Mr Moreton, putting on a thick coat, for it was now blowing very hard, went off to Captain Rymer’s house, which was close down to the bay, accompanied by Mrs Merryweather’s servant, and greatly alarmed the family by asking for his son and Harry.

“Why, did they not come back with you?” asked the captain. “No, we thought they were on board the Arrow,” answered Mr Moreton. “They may have gone with the Trevanians, but I do not think that Harry would have failed to come back to his mother. I will go back and see her. They must have set off by land, and there may have been an upset or a break-down. It will be all right tomorrow.”

The morrow, however, came, but the boys did not appear. Mr Moreton therefore rode over early to the Trevanians, but they knew nothing of the boys.

He now became seriously alarmed. As it was blowing too hard to go by sea, he sent a messenger to say that he should not be home for some hours, and continued on to the bay where the picnic had been held. Then he made inquiries at the nearest cottages, but no one had seen his son or Harry Merryweather. He went from cottage to cottage in vain, making inquiries.