“Lord bless ’e! they wouldn’t have hurt your little fingers,” he remarked, when I told him how the crew of the cutter had threatened my life. He would not part from me till he had deposited me at the gates of Daisy Cottage. The lights were shining through the drawing-room windows. My aunt was sitting working, and sweet Alice Marlow had a book before her. They both looked very sad, I thought. I tapped at the window, which opened to the ground, to call their attention, and grinned a “How-d’ye-do” through the glass. No sooner did Alice see my face, than letting her book fall, she gave a loud scream, as if she had seen a spectre.
“Hillo! what’s the matter?” I exclaimed, shaking the handle of the window. “Let me in, aunt, please; I’m not a thief or a ghost, on my word.” My aunt, more courageous than the little girl, had risen from her seat, and my voice assuring her of my identity, she opened the door, and I very soon convinced her and Alice that I was a living being by kissing them both, and then devouring every scrap of supper she set before me. I found that, from Hanks’ report, they had been led to believe that the Frenchmen had knocked me on the head; and were mourning for me accordingly. My aunt was, I verily believe, employed in making a black gown to put on for my sake. My uncle had sailed again to look after the lugger, so that I was able to enjoy the height of a midshipman’s felicity, a holiday on shore. Three days afterwards the Serpent came back, having re-captured the lugger and two hundred tubs. I saw Captain Didot, who was very angry at finding that I had escaped, and vowed he would pay me off in a different coin, if he ever caught me again. I told him he might, if he ever did.
Chapter Eleven.
Hanks and my Ghost—Hanks’ Learning—Myers again—Escapes once more—Appointed to a Frigate—Prepare for Sea—My Shipmates—Sail from England—Messrs Trundle and Chissel—Dicky Sharpe and a Tale of a Beef-Bone.
On reaching Portsmouth, I took a boat and pulled off to the cutter, which was lying out in the middle of the harbour. Hanks was walking the deck as I came alongside, but something having attracted his attention in the direction of Gosport, he did not observe me. Handing the boatman a shilling, I jumped on board unnoticed, and just as Hanks turned round, I stood before him, with my hand out ready to grasp his. For an instant the colour forsook his cheeks, and he stared at me without speaking, rolling his eyes round as if he saw my wraith.
“Why, Hanks, old fellow! don’t you know me?” I exclaimed, bursting into a loud laugh at his extraordinary way of receiving me. My voice convinced him that it was not my ghost which was offering to shake hands with him.
“What, D’Arcy, my boy! is it you, indeed, come back to us after all?” he cried, seizing both my hands in his own well-hardened paws. “I’m glad to see you, that I am, lad; we thought those scoundrel smugglers had done for you. It would have been just like them, to kill the smallest of the lot. But how did you escape? Come, tell us all about it. We’ve had another brush with that rascal Myers: we are certain it was him. He had the daring to fire into us; killed one of our people, poor Tom Darling, and wounded two, getting off into the bargain. But we will be even with him before long, and when we do catch him, we’ll pay him off, that’s all. Well I’m glad you escaped, that I am; but come below, and let us hear the whole story.”
In this way the kind-hearted fellow ran on. Having been welcomed by Growl, Scriven, and the rest of my shipmates, I went to report myself to my uncle, who was in his cabin. He seemed truly glad to find that I had not become food for fishes, though he did not exhibit his pleasure exactly in the same way Hanks had done. When I was dismissed by him, I dived down into our berth, and there, over a glass of his too-favourite beverage, old Hanks listened to an account of my adventures. “It was the Cremona did it, after all!” he exclaimed, slapping my shoulder. “I told you it would stand you in good stead. Stick to it, my lad, and you’ll become as great a man as that old chap Orpheus, I’ve heard tell of, who made the beasts jig when he fiddled. Who the gentleman was, I can’t say, except that he was one of Julius Caesar’s generals, wasn’t he?”