“Why, how is that?” asked Hearty; “an hour and a half will do it, won’t it?”
“Bless your heart, no, sir,” said old Snow, almost laughing at the idea. “It’s just dead low water, so the flood will make up for the best part of the next six hours, and after that, if there doesn’t come more wind than we has now, we shan’t make no great way.”
“But let us at all events get up our anchor and try to do something,” urged Hearty, whose ideas of navigation were not especially distinct at the time.
“If we does, sir, we shall drive up to Southampton, or maybe, to Redbridge, for there ain’t an hair in all the ’eavens,” was the encouraging answer given by the master.
I never saw a more perfect calm. A candle was lighted on deck, and the flame went straight up as if in a room. If we had been in a tropical climate we should have looked out for a hurricane. Here nothing so exciting was to be apprehended. The conversation with the master was not overheard by any of the ladies, and Hearty thought it was as well to say nothing about it, but to leave them to suppose that we were on our way back to Cowes.
“It is much too dark to distinguish the shore, and as none of them ever think of looking at the sails, they will not discover that we are still at anchor,” he observed; and so it proved, as we shall presently see.
The after-cabin had been devoted to the use of the fairer portion of the guests, and when they got there and found the muddy condition of their dresses, there was a general cry for hot water to wash them. Luckily the cook’s coppers could supply a good quantity, and two tubs were sent aft, in which, as was afterwards reported—for we were not allowed to be spectators of the process—the Honourable Mrs Topgallant and her protégées were busily employed in rinsing their skirts, though it was not quite so easy a matter to dry them. Tea and coffee were next served up in the main cabin, and cakes and muffins and toast in profusion were produced, and as Carstairs quietly observed, “Never were washerwomen more happy.”
There was only one thing wanting, we had not sufficient milk; and that there might be no scarcity in future, it was proposed to send the steward on shore with Henry Flareup to swap him for a cow to be kept on board instead. He was fixed on as the victim, as it was considered that he had been making too much love to one of the Miss Sandons, conduct altogether unbecoming one of his tender years.
“We have passed a very pleasant evening, Mr Hearty, I can assure you,” said the chaperone; “and as I suppose we shall soon be there, we had better get ready to go on shore.”
“We shall have time for a dance first; we have had the deck cleared, and the musicians are ready,” replied Hearty; “may I have the honour of opening the ball with you, Mrs Topgallant?”