“We’ll give you five shillings apiece,” said the officer, for such he seemed to be.
“Thank you, sir; that will do. What ship shall I put you aboard?” asked father.
“The Intrepid, South Sea whaler—she’s lying to the eastward of the men-of-war. We shall see her when we get abreast of Southsea Castle,” answered the officer.
“Step aboard, then, sir,” said father. “The tide will soon have done making out of the harbour, and there’s no time to lose.”
The strangers took their seats in the stern-sheets, and father and Jack, shoving off, pulled out into the stream.
The officer took the yoke-lines, and by the way he handled them, showed that he knew what he was about. Careful steering is always required where tides run strong and vessels are assembled; but especially was it at that time, when, peace having been just proclaimed, Portsmouth Harbour was crowded with men-of-war lately returned from foreign stations, and with transports and victuallers come in to be discharged; while all the way up towards Porchester Castle lay, now dismantled in vast numbers, those stout old ships with names renowned which had borne the victorious flag of England in many a fierce engagement. Dockyard lighters, man-of-war boats, wherries crowded with passengers, and other craft of various descriptions, were sailing or pulling about in all directions, so that the stranger had to keep his eyes about him to avoid being run down by, or running into, some other boat or vessel.
“We’ll step the mast, and make sail while we’re in smooth water, sir,” said father. “There’s a lop of a sea outside, when it wouldn’t be pleasant to this gentleman if we were to wait till then,” and he gave a look at the landsman, who even now did not seem altogether comfortable.
“The doctor hasn’t been used to the sea, but he’ll soon get accustomed to it. No fear of that, Cockle, eh?” said the officer, who was, he afterwards told father, second mate of the Intrepid.
“I hope I shall, Mr Griffiths, but I confess I don’t much like the thought of going through those foaming waves out there in such a cockleshell of a boat as this,” answered the doctor. “No offence to you, my friend,” he added, turning to father.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! That’s just what the boat is at present,” said the mate, laughing. “Do you twig, doctor? Do you twig? She carries you and your fortunes, and if she takes us safe alongside the Intrepid—and I see no reason why she shouldn’t—we shall be obliged to her and her owner here. What’s your name, my man?”