“Stay, Harry!” said the elder of the officers; “Paul wrote that we were to steer west by north, and that if we stood on under easy sail for half a glass, we should just fetch Paradise Row. Now here we are, with the sun right astern; let’s have the proper bearings of the place.”
True Blue—for he was the young boatswain who had been speaking—looked at the sun, and then, turning himself round, in a few seconds seemed to make up his mind that they were proceeding in the right direction.
“I feel uncommonly inclined to set more canvas; and yet we mustn’t quit our convoy,” he remarked as he moved on.
“No, that wouldn’t do,” answered his friend, Harry Hartland. “Come, heave ahead, my hearties!” he added, looking back at the seamen carrying the bags; “and you, Sam, shall we lend you a leg, old boy?”
“Tank’ee, gunner—a grand new cork one, if you like!” answered Sam, grinning and chuckling at his joke; “but ye see my timber one will serve me, I tink, till I’m laid under hatches. But I no wonder Billy in a hurry to go along—ha! ha! ha! I call de fine grand bo’sun Billy now again, jes as I did when he was one little chap aboard de old Terrible. We off service, you know! I once more free man! Out-door Greenwich pensioner! What more I want?—plenty to eat, nothing to do! I go wid you and play at your wedding, True Blue—ha! ha! ha! Fancy I, Sam Smatch, play at Billy True’s wedding—once little chap born aboard de Terrible, and often nurse in de old nigger’s arms.”
“And right glad I am to have you by me, Sam,” answered True Blue, looking kindly at the negro. “You took good care of me—that I’m sure of—when I was a baby, and we’ve weathered many a storm together since in all parts of the world. There’s scarcely a friend I should be more sorry to miss at my wedding than you, if wedding there is to be; but it is so long since I heard from home, that who can tell what has happened?”
“Ah, yes—Mary Ogle gone and married some oder sailor maybe! Dat is what dey petticoat women often do,” said Sam with a wink, sticking his thumb towards the boatswain’s ribs.
“No, no. No fear of that, at all events!” exclaimed True Blue vehemently. “You didn’t suppose that I meant that. But how can we tell that all our friends are alive and well?” he said gravely, and was silent for a minute. “However,” he added in a cheerful tone, “I have no fears that all will be right, and that, before many evenings are over, we shall have you fingering your fiddlestick as merrily as ever.”
So they went on, cheerfully talking as they proceeded towards Paradise Row, which, in truth, True Blue hoped would prove a Paradise to him; for there, since Paul, and Abel, and Peter, had become warrant-officers, their respective families had come to reside, to be near them when they came into port.
They, however, had now charge of different ships in ordinary; and as they had all gone through a great deal of service, they did not expect to be again sent to sea.