When I got home on the evening of the last I found that a message had been left by Mr Gray when he visited the widow and Mary, directing Jim and me to go the next morning at nine o’clock on board the Good Intent, which had just come into the Commercial Dock. I hastened off to tell Jim at once. As may be supposed, we were up betimes, and as we got to the dock before the hour appointed we were able to examine the Good Intent at our leisure. She was a fair enough looking craft, but as she was deep in the water, having only just begun to discharge a cargo of coals brought from the north, and had a dingy appearance, from the black dust flying about, we could not judge of her properly.
As the bells of Saint Thomas’s Church began to strike nine we stepped on board, and directly afterwards Mr Gray, followed by a short, broad, oldish man, who had not a bit the look of a skipper, though such I guessed he was, came out of the cabin.
“Right! Punctuality saves precious hours,” said Mr Gray, with an approving nod. “These are the lads I desire to commit to thy care, Captain Finlay. Instruct them in their duties, so that they may become able seamen, and they will repay thy teaching.”
“I’ll act justly by the laddies, Mr Gray, but there’s an auld saying that ‘ye canna make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’ If they dinna keep their wits awake, or if they ha’ na wits to keep awake, all the teaching in the world will na make them sailors.”
“They are fair sailors already, and thou wilt find them handy enough, I hope,” observed Mr Gray.
After putting a few questions, Captain Finlay told us to come aboard the next day but one with our bags, by which time the cargo would be discharged. We set off home greatly pleased, though puzzled to know how we should obtain a decent kit. With Nancy’s help, I might be pretty well off, but poor Jim had scarcely a rag to his back besides the clothes he stood in. In the evening, however, a note came from Mr Gray with an order on an outfitter to give us each a complete kit suited to a cold climate. We were not slow to avail ourselves of it. The next day Dr Rolt considered Mary sufficiently well to be removed, and Mr Gray sent a closed carriage to convey her to his house. The doctor told me to be ready to accompany her, and kindly came himself. It was the first time I had ever been in a coach, and the rolling and pitching made me feel very queer. The young ladies received us as if we had been one of themselves, and Mary was carried up into a pretty, neat room, with white dimity curtains to the bed, and the fresh air blowing in at the open window.
“I’ll leave her to you, now, Miss Hannah,” said the doctor. “This is all she requires, with your watchful care.”
After I had had a short talk with Mary alone I took my leave, and Miss Hannah told me to be sure to come back and see them before the Good Intent sailed. It was not likely I should forget to do that.
Jim and I now went to live on board the brig. We had plenty of work, cleaning out the hold and getting rid of the coal-dust, and then we scrubbed the deck, and blacked down the rigging, and painted the bulwarks and masts, till the change in the appearance of the dingy collier was like that of a scullery-maid when she puts on her Sunday best. We did not mind the hard work, though it was a good deal harder than any we had been accustomed to, but the master and the rest of the crew set us a good example. There was little grumbling, and what surprised me, no swearing, such as I had been accustomed to hear on the Hard. Captain Finlay would not allow it, and the mate supported him in checking any wrong expressions which some of the men had been in the habit of uttering.
I got leave to run up and see Mary and to bid Nancy and Mrs Simmons good-bye. Miss Hannah and her sisters seemed to be making a great deal of Mary. It was evident they liked her much, and I was not surprised at that. The widow I never expected to see again. Nancy would scarcely let me go.