When, however, day after day went by, and the Orion was not seen, even Jack began to feel somewhat anxious. She was not likely to have gone ahead of the Empress, which was the faster ship of the two, nor could she have dropped so far astern as to be altogether out of sight in so short a time. Still, as Jack observed to Tom, “They had often, during their early days, been inclined to give each other up for lost, and always met again,” and he still hoped that such would be the case. At last, however, when the shores of Old England appeared in sight, he began to dread having to tell his sister Lucy his anxiety about her husband. Proceeding up Channel, Spithead was reached, and the Empress immediately received orders to go into harbour to be paid off.
Jack wisely, when writing to his wife, who, with Lucy, was staying at Lady Rogers’, did not speak of his anxiety about Adair, but merely said that he had parted from him at sea and hoped the Orion, which had proved herself rather a slower ship than the Empress, would soon make her appearance at Spithead. Murray and Stella, with their children, were, he learned, at Bercaldine, for which he was sorry, as he thought he might have had the satisfaction of meeting them in the south. Some days must elapse before he could pay off his ship; he fully expected that Julia and Lucy would forthwith come down with their elder girls to Southsea, though he felt very much inclined to advise them to wait. Tom was glad to find that Archie Gordon had been promoted for more than a year, and was now serving in the Channel squadron, so that he was very likely to fall in with him before long. As Jack had expected, scarcely two days had passed since the Empress had dropped anchor, before Julia and Lucy arrived at Southsea, each with a little girl, the very image of their mothers. Jack had the happiness of hearing that a little Jack had been born a few months after he had left England, and was grown into a fine chubby fellow, and that if the small Lucy was the image of her mamma, still more so was young Jack that of his papa. Poor Lucy began to look very sorrowful, when day after day went by, and the Orion did not appear.
Chapter Fourteen.
A visit to the grave of an old friend—The three old shipmates meet—Desmond in Ireland—Lays claim to a title and estate—The post captains take to yachting—Cruises on board the Stella—A naval review—Down Channel—A gale—A run up the Irish Sea—Dublin reached—Gerald Desmond has become Viscount Saint Maur—Pleasant excursions round Dublin—Counsellor McMahon and his fair daughters—The Stella again sails, with Lord Saint Maur on board—Becalmed in the chops of the English Channel—The yacht run down by a big ship—Saint Maur disappears—Anxiety as to his fate—Dangerous condition of the yacht—Falmouth reached—Dick Stokes gives an account of the collision—Return to Ryde—The Stella sails northward—Jack appointed to the Bellona, Adair to the Empress.
Two gentlemen, who might at a glance have been known as naval officers, were walking arm-in-arm towards a church in the midst of a burial ground, standing on the summit of a hill surrounded by woods in the Isle of Wight, overlooking the Solent. The trees were green with the bright leaves of early summer, the birds flew here and there, carrying food to their young, and chirping merrily. In several places openings had been cut, affording a view of the blue water down the Channel in the direction of Calshot Castle and towards Spithead and the entrance of Portsmouth harbour.
One of the gentlemen was strongly built, of middle height, with an open, well-bronzed countenance, a few grey hairs showing themselves amid his bushy whiskers, proving that he was getting on in life. The other was tall and of slender proportions, but had equally the air and bearing of a son of the ocean.
Passing though a wicket gate, they went along a well-kept gravel path, and stopped before two monuments, side by side, one of granite, the other of white marble. On the first, surmounted by a naval crown, was engraved— “To the memory of Admiral Triton;” and on the other was inscribed the name of Deborah Triton, daughter of the late Captain Triton, RN, and sister of Admiral Triton, who lies interred by her side.
At a little distance followed two ladies, with a party of girls and boys, who had been laughing, chatting, and joking, as they ran in and out among each other, skipping and jumping, and darting here and there. Their voices were, however, hushed as they approached the wicket gate and discovered that they had arrived at the churchyard.