The Cruise of the Frolic

Chapter Three

A Voyage – The Mariners’ Return

“I say, old fellows, don’t you find this rather slow?” exclaimed Hearty, as one morning Carstairs, Bubble, and I sat at breakfast with him on board the “Frolic.” “What say you to a cruise to the westward, over to the coast of France and the Channel Islands, just for ten days or a fortnight or so?”

“Agreed, agreed, agreed!” we all answered.

“Well, then, to-morrow or next day we sail,” said Hearty. “But how can you, Carstairs, tear yourself away from your pretty widow? Bubble, you don’t mean to say that you can leave sweet May Sandon without a sigh?”

“A little absence will try the widow; it will teach her to miss me, and she will value me more when I return,” was Carstairs’ answer. “But you, Bubble, what do you say?” for he did not answer.

Will was guilty of blushing, for I saw the rosy hue appearing even through his sunburnt countenance, though the others did not.

“That is the best thing we can do,” he answered, with a loud laugh. “Hurrah for the broad seas, and a rover’s free life!”

“I thought so – I thought there was nothing in it,” said Hearty. “Happy dog! – you never fall in love; you never care for any one.”

“Ah, no: I laugh, sing, and am merry!” exclaimed Bubble. “It’s all very well for you fellows with your five or ten thousand a year to fall in love; you have hope to live on, if nothing else – no insurmountable obstacles; but for poverty-stricken wretches, like me and a dozen more I could name, it can only bring misery: yet I don’t complain of poverty – no cares, no responsibilities; if one has only one’s self to look after, it matters little; but should one unhappily meet with some being who to one’s eye is lovely, towards whom one’s heart yearns unconsciously, and one longs to make her one’s own, then one begins to feel what poverty really is – then the galling yoke presses on one’s neck. Can you then be surprised that I, and such as I, throw care away, and become the light frivolous wretches we seem? Hearty, my dear fellow, don’t you squander your money, or you will repent it!”

Bubble spoke with a feeling for which few would have given him credit. He directly afterwards, however, broke into his usual loud laugh, adding, —

“Don’t say that I have been moralising, or I may be suspected of incipient insanity.”

“Will Bubble has made out a clear case that he cannot be in love, for no one accuses him of being overburdened with the gifts of fortune,” I observed; for I saw that he was more in earnest than he would have wished to be supposed. “But do you, Hearty, wish to desert Miss Seaton, and leave the stage clear for Loring?”

“Oh, I never enter the lists with a man who can sing,” answered Hearty. “Those imitators of Orpheus have the same winning way about them which their great master possessed. But, at the same time, I’ll bet ten to one that the fair Jane never becomes Mrs Loring. I had a little confab the other day with Madame la Mère, and faith, she’s about as fierce a she-dragon as ever guarded an enchanted princess from the attempts of knights-errant to rescue her.”

“I’ll take your bet, and for once stake love against lucre!” exclaimed Bubble, and the bet was booked.

But enough of this. We bade our friends farewell; and, in spite of all their attempts to detain us, we laid in a stock of provisions to last us for a month, and with a fine breeze from the northward, actually found our way through the Needles just as the sun was tinging the topmost pinnacles of those weather-worn rocks.

As soon as we were through the passage, we kept away, and shaped a course for Havre de Grâce. The wind shifted round soon afterwards to the westward, and I shall not forget the pure refreshing saltness of the breeze which filled our nostrils, and added strength and vigour to our limbs. What a breakfast we ate afterwards! There seemed no end to it. Our caterer had done well to lay in a store of comestibles. Our perfect happiness lasted till nearly noon, and then the wind increased and the sea got up in a not unusual manner. We went below to take luncheon, and we set to in first-rate style, as if there was no such thing as the centre of gravity to be disturbed. Carstairs began to look a little queer.

“‘Thus far into the bowels of the earth have we marched on without impediment,’ Shakespeare, hum” – he began. He was going to give us the whole speech, but instead, he exclaimed, “O ye gods and little fishes!” and bolted up on deck.

Hearty, the joyous and free, followed. They declared that they felt as if the cook had mixed ipecacuanha in the sausages they had eaten for breakfast. Bubble laughed, lighted a cigar, and sat on the companion-hatch with one leg resting on the deck, the other carelessly dangling down, with the independence of a king on his throne, pitying them. Oh, how they envied him; how they almost hated him, as cigar after cigar disappeared, and still there he sat without a sign of discomposure! At dark we made the Havre light, and an hour afterwards, and an hour afterwards, the tide being high, we ran in and dropped our anchor in smooth water. Wonderful was the change which quietude worked on all hands!

“Supper, supper!” was the cry. Even Will and I did justice to it, though we had had a quiet little dinner by ourselves in the midst of our friends’ agony, off pickled salmon and roast duck, with a gooseberry tart and a bottle of champagne.

Next morning we sailed with the wind back again to the north-east, and, notwithstanding the little inconveniences we had suffered on the passage across, we stood to the westward, and heroically determined to run through the Race of Alderney, to pay a visit to Jersey. There was a nice breeze, and I must say we were glad there was no more of it, as we ran through the passage between Alderney and the French coast. The water seemed possessed; it tumbled and leaped and twisted and danced in a most extraordinary and unnatural manner; and several seas toppled right down on our decks, and we could not help fancying that some huge fish had jumped on board. However, with a fair wind and a strong tide we were soon through it, nor was there danger of any sort; but from the specimen we had we could judge what it would be in a strongish gale. The wind had got round to the southward of west, and before we had managed to weather Cape Gronez the tide turned against us. Cape Gronez is the north-west point of Jersey, and bears a strong similarity to the nose of Louis Philippe, as his portrait used to be represented in “Punch.” We had an opportunity of judging of it, for, for upwards of an hour did we beat between it and those enticing rocks called very properly the Paternosters, for if a ship once strikes on them, it is to be hoped that the crew, being Roman Catholics, will, if they have time, say their Paternosters before they go to the bottom.

At last it came on very thick, we ran back and anchored in a most romantic little cove called Bouley Bay, where we remained all night, hoping the wind would not shift to the northward, and send us on shore. I should advise all timid yachtsmen to keep clear of Jersey, for what with the rapid tides, and rocks innumerable, it is a very ticklish locality. The next morning we got under way at daybreak, and brought up off Elizabeth Castle, which guards the entrance of the harbour of St. Heliers. I have not time to describe Jersey. I can only recommend all who have not seen it, and wish to enjoy some very beautiful scenery, to go there. Two days more saw us crossing to Torbay, which we reached on the morning of the regatta. Had an artist been employed to carve the cliffs on which Torbay is situated, he could scarcely have made them more picturesque, or added tints more suitable, except perhaps that they are a little more red than one might wish. However, it is a very beautiful place, and admirably adapted for a regatta.

The bay before the town was crowded with yachts, and I counted no less than fourteen large schooners, among which I remember the “Brilliant,” which, however, should be called a ship, “Gypsy Queen,” “Dolphin,” “Louisa,” and a vast number of cutters, a large proportion of which were gayly dressed up with flags. The course is round the bay, so that the yachts are in sight the whole time – an advantage possessed by few other places. The “Heroine,” “Cygnet,” and “Cynthia,” sailed, but the race was not a good one, as the “Heroine,” driven to windward by her antagonist, ran her bowsprit into one of the mark boats, and another of them, the “Cynthia,” making a mistake, did not go round her at all. Notwithstanding this, the sight was as beautiful of its kind as I ever saw. There was a ball at night, to which we went, and we flattered ourselves that four dancing bachelors were not unwelcome. We met a number of acquaintances. Hearty lost his heart for the tenth time since he left London. The Gentle Giant, as the Miss Rattlers called Carstairs, looked out for a charmer, but could find none to surpass Mrs Skyscraper. Bubble laughed with all but sighed with none, though Hearty accused him of flirtations innumerable; and I never chronicle my own deeds, however fond I may be of noting those of my friends. However, if we did not break hearts, we passed a very pleasant evening. Hearty invited everybody he knew to come on board the next morning, and we went as far as Dartmouth, and a beautiful sail back we had by moonlight, to the great delight of the romantic portion of the guests. They were a very quiet set of ladies and gentlemen, and more than one sigh was heaved when they had gone on shore for our fast friends at Cowes.

We were present at the Plymouth Regatta, and were going to several other places, when, one day after dinner, Hearty thus gave utterance to his thoughts. We were about a quarter of the way across channel on our passage to the French coast, with a stiffish breeze from the westward, and a chopping sea: —

“It seems to me arrant folly that we four bachelors should keep turning up the salt water all the summer, and boxing about from place to place which we don’t care to visit, when there are a number of fair ladies at Cowes who are undoubtedly pining for our return.”

“My own idea,” exclaimed Carstairs.

“Your argument is unanswerable,” said Bubble.

I nodded.

“All agreed – then we’ll up stick for the Wight,” said Hearty joyfully. “The wind’s fair. We shall be there some time to-morrow. Hillo, Jack! beg the master to step below.”

This was said to a lad who waited at table and assisted the steward.

Old Snow, the master, soon made his appearance. He had been a yachtsman for many years, and previously, if his yarns were to be believed, a smuggler of no mean renown. He was a short man, rather fat, for good living had not been thrown away on him, and very neat and clean in his person, as became the master of a yacht.

“We want to get back to Cowes, Snow,” said Hearty.

“Yes, sir,” answered the skipper, well accustomed to sudden changes in the plans of his yachting masters.

“How soon can we get there?” asked Hearty.

“If we keeps away at once, and this here wind holds, early to-morrow; but, if it falls light, not till the afternoon, maybe; and, if it chops round to the eastward, not till next morning,” replied Snow.

“By all means keep away at once, and get there as fast as you can,” said Hearty; and the master disappeared from the cabin.

Directly afterwards we heard him call the hands aft to case off the main-sheet, the square-sail and gaff-topsail were set, and, by the comparatively easy motion, we felt that we were running off before the wind. Not a little did it contribute to our comfort in concluding our dinner.

The next day, at noon, saw us safely anchored in Cowes Roads.

“There’s Mr Hearty and the Gentle Giant, I declare,” exclaimed the melodious voice of Miss Susan Rattler, from out of a shrubbery, as my two friends were pacing along on the road towards Egypt, to call on Lady Cardiff.

“Oh, the dear men! you don’t say so, Susan!” replied her sister.

Bubble and I were close under them, a little in advance, so they did not see us, though we could not avoid hearing what was said.

“Yes, it’s them, I vow; we must attack them about the pic-nic forthwith,” said Susan.

“Don’t mention Jane Seaton, or poor Ned will be too much out of spirits to do any thing,” observed her sister.

“Trust me to manage all descriptions of he-animals,” replied Rattler minima. “Ah, how d’ye do? – how d’ye do? Welcome, rovers, welcome!” she exclaimed, waving her handkerchief as they approached.

“Lovely ladies, we once more live in your presence,” began Hearty.

“‘Oh that I were a glove upon that hand!’” shouted Carstairs.

“Oh, don’t, you’ll make us blush!” screamed Susan, from over the bushes. “But seriously, we’re so glad you’re come, because now we can have the pic-nic to Netley you promised us.”

“I like frankness – when shall it be?” said Hearty.

“To-morrow, by all means, – never delay a good thing.”

“‘If ’twere done, ’twere well ’twere done quickly,’” observed the captain.

“That’s what Shakespeare says about a beef-steak,” cried Susan. “But I say then, it’s settled – how nice!”

“What? that we are to have beef-steaks?” asked Hearty. “They are very nice when one’s hungry.”

“No, I mean that we are to have a pic-nic to-morrow,” said the fair Rattler.

“That depends whether those we invite are willing to join it,” observed Hearty.

“‘I can summon spirits from the vasty deep; but will they come, cousin?’” exclaimed Carstairs.

“Oh, yes, in these parts, often,” cried Rattler maxima; “the revenue officers constantly find them, I know.”

“Capital – capital!” ejaculated Hearty. “You must bring that out again on board the ‘Frolic.’ You deserve a pic-nic for it; it’s so original. You must consider this only as a rehearsal.”

“How kind – then it’s all settled!” exclaimed both young ladies in a breath. “There’s Mary Masthead, I know, is dying to go, and so is Mrs Topgallant, and I dare say, if Captain Carstairs presses Mrs Skyscraper, she’ll go, and the Sandons and Cardiffs, and all our set; I don’t think any will refuse.”

“Well, then, we’ve no time to lose,” we exclaimed, and off we set to beat up for recruits.

We were not, however, without our disappointments. Lady Cardiff could not go, and without a correct chaperone she could not let her daughter be of the party – the thing was utterly impossible, dreadfully incorrect, and altogether unheard of. Mrs Skyscraper was a great deal too young, and being a widow had herself to look after. If Mrs Topgallant would go, she would see about it; so we tried next to find the lady in question, but she had gone to Carisbrooke Castle, and would not be back till late. Mrs Sandon was next visited, but she had a cold; and if Lady Cardiff would not let her daughter go without a chaperone, neither could she. We by chance met Mrs Seaton with the fair Jane, looking very beautiful, but mamma never went on the water if she could help it. She could not come to the island without doing so; but once safe there, she would not set her foot in a boat till she had to go away again. Sooth to say, that was not surprising; the good dame was unsuited by her figure for locomotion. Every thing depended on Mrs Topgallant; never was she in so much request. The gentlemen being able to come without chaperones, more readily promised to be present. We fell in with Sir Francis Futtock, Lord Lorimer, Harry Loring, and young Flareup, and a young Oxonian, who had lately taken orders, and created a great sensation among the more sensitive portion of his audience by his exquisite preaching, and the unction by which he privately recommended auricular confession and penance.

The Rev. Frederick Fairfax was a pink-faced young man, and had naturally a round, good-natured countenance, but by dint of shaving his whiskers, elongating his face, and wearing a white cravat without gills, and a stand-up collar to his coat, he contrived to present a no bad imitation of a Jesuit priest. The Miss Rattlers called him the Paragon Puseyite, or the PP, which they said would stand as well for parish priest. How Hearty came to invite him I don’t know, for he detested the silly clique to whom the youth had attached himself. We had just left the young gentleman when we met the two merry little Miss Masons. At first they could not possibly go, because they had no chaperone; but when they heard that the Rev. Frederick was to be of the party, all their scruples vanished. With such a pastor they might go anywhere. They had only lately been bitten, but had ever since diligently applied themselves to the study of the “Tracts of the Times;” and though not a word did they understand of those works (which was not surprising by the by), they perceived that the Rev. Fred’s voice was very melodious, that he chanted to admiration, and looked so pious that they could not be wrong in following his advice. At last the hearts of all were made glad by the appearance of Mrs Topgallant, who, without much persuasion, undertook to chaperone as many young ladies as were committed to her charge.

Chapter Four

A Pic-nic, and its Consequences

The morning came at last, fine as the palpitating hearts of expectant damsels could desire, and calm enough to please the most timid chaperone; so calm, indeed, that it was a question whether any craft with canvas alone to depend on could move from her moorings with a chance of going anywhere except to Hurst or the Nab; but, as few of our lady friends had any nautical knowledge, that in no way disconcerted them, and they would not have believed us had we assured them that there was too little wind for the excursion. By noon, however, a few cats’-paws appeared on the lake-like surface of the water, and soon after the deck of the “Frolic” once more began to rejoice in the presence of many of the former frolickers. They found it easy enough to come on board, but to collect all hands and get under way was a very different thing. The Miss Sandons and Jane Seaton, who came escorted by Loring, on finding no chaperone, thought they ought to go on shore again, as neither Mrs Topgallant nor Mrs Skyscraper had come; but Sir Francis kept them discussing the point till Carstairs had time to dive below, and presently returned with a Norman cap on his head, a shawl over his shoulders, and a boat-cloak as a petticoat.

“There,” he exclaimed, crossing his arms before him, and putting his head on one side, sentimentally, “I’m as good a duenna as Mrs Topgallant, or any other lady of your acquaintance.” All laughed and forgot to go. “Come, my dear girls, sit down and behave yourselves; no flirting with that naval officer, if you please,” he continued, imitating the honourable dame. “You, Mr Loring, and you, Mr Henry Flareup, go forward and smoke your cigars. I can’t allow such nasty practices here.”

Flareup had, as usual, lighted his weed, and was sending the smoke into the face of May Sandon. The roars of laughter were not few as the real Mrs Topgallant, with Miss Mary Masthead, approached, and the Norman cap with the good-natured face of the wearer was seen looking over the side affectionately down upon them. The Rev. Fred and the Miss Masons next arrived, and lastly Mrs Skyscraper, Miss Cardiff, Lord Lorimer, and Hearty.

“Now, remember, Mr Hearty, we must get back before dark; it is on that condition alone that I have consented to chaperone these young ladies,” said Mrs Topgallant, as we were about to get under way.

“And I, also,” exclaimed pretty Mrs Skyscraper.

“Oh, we don’t allow you to be a chaperone,” said Carstairs; “you are far too young and too engaging,” he whispered; and the Gentle Giant actually blushed as he said so; luckily Miss Susan Rattler did not hear him.

“And mamma made me promise to be back at eight,” cried Jane Seaton.

“And so did ours!” echoed the three Miss Sandons.

“You know we could not have come at all unless we were certain of being at home in proper time!” exclaimed the two Miss Masons; “could we, Mr Fairfax?”

The pet bowed and smiled. He was meditating on the Life of St. Euphemia, of Rhodes, and did not hear the question.

“Remember, ladies, that time and tide wait for no man,” answered Hearty. “Even such fair goddesses as honour the ‘Frolic’ by their presence this day cannot govern the winds and waves, however much they may every thing else. Therefore all I can promise is, to do my best to follow the wishes of your amiable mammas, and of yourselves.”

“And of mine, if you please, Mr Hearty,” put in Mrs Topgallant.

“Certainly, my dear madam, I considered you among the goddesses of whom I was speaking,” answered Hearty, with a flourish of his broad-brimmed beaver, which, with the compliment, completely won the honourable lady’s heart.

The anchor was at last weighed, and it being fortunately slack tide, with a light air from the south-east, we were able to fetch Calshot Castle.

Most of my readers probably know the Southampton Water, and may picture us to themselves as we floated up the stream with the round, solid, Stilton-cheese-like-looking Castle of Calshot, at the end of a sandy spit, and the lordly Tower of Eaglehurst, rising among the trees visible over it on the one hand, and the mouth of the Hamble River on the other, while, as far as the eye can reach on either hand, are seen verdant groves, with the roofs and chimneys of numerous villas peeping from among them. About three-quarters of the way up, on the right hand, at a short distance only from the water, stand the picturesque ruins of Netley Abbey. The jolly monks of old – and I respect them for it – always selected the most beautiful sites in the neighbourhood for their habitations, and in fixing on that for Netley, they did not depart from their rule. Several chambers remain; and the walls which surround an inner court are entire, with fine arched windows, the tracery work complete, looking into it. We brought up off it, and the boats were instantly lowered to convey the passengers on shore. In getting into one of them, Loring nearly went overboard, and a shriek of terror from Jane Seaton would have published her secret, had not everybody known it before. At last the hampers and the people reached the beach in safety; and now began the difficulties of the chaperone. She was like a shepherd with a wild flock of sheep and no dog; they would stray in every direction out of her sight. Some had brought sketch-books, and perched themselves about, far apart, to take views of the ruins; others preferred what they called exploring; and Jane and Loring vanished no one knew where. The Gentle Giant, who drew very well, was called on by the Miss Rattlers and several other ladies to fill up the pages of their books; and Hearty was running about talking to everybody and ordering every thing; while Bubble was exerting himself to do the same, and to take sketches into the bargain, though all his friends observed that there was a want of his usual vivacity. The Rattler girls quizzed him unmercifully, till they brought him back to the semblance, at all events, of his former self. The servants had been employed in laying the cloth under the shade of a tree which had sprung up in the courtyard, and thither Hearty’s voice now summoned us. How can pen of mine do justice to the cold collation which was spread before our rejoicing eyes! I can only say that the party did it, and amply too.

“Are we all here?” exclaimed the master of the revels. “No, by Bacchus! two are wanting – Miss Seaton and Mr Loring – where are they?”

“Good gracious! where can they be?” screamed the Honourable Mrs Topgallant.

“What can have become of them?” cried Mrs Skyscraper.

“They probably did not hear you call, and I dare say they are not far off,” suggested Miss Cardiff, always anxious to find a good excuse for her acquaintance.

“I should not wonder but what they have eloped,” observed Miss Susan Rattler.

“What fun!” said Miss Mary Masthead; “we haven’t had such a thing for a long time.”

“How shocking!” ejaculated the Miss Masons in a breath, and looked at the Rev. Frederick.

“I’ll wager I find the truants,” said Bubble, about to go; but he was saved the trouble, for at that moment they appeared; the fair Jane looking very confused – Harry Loring remarkably happy.

“We’ve all been talking about you two,” blurted out Hearty. “No scandal though, so sit down and enable us to recover our appetites, for our anxiety nearly took them away. Now tell us, what have you been doing?”

Poor Jane did not know which way to look, nor what to say; and it never occurred to Hearty that his question might possibly confuse her. Loring, however, came to the rescue.

“Admiring the architecture, exploring everywhere, and examining every thing, which no one else appears to have done, or the dinner-bell would not have been answered so speedily. And now, old fellow, I’ll drink a glass of champagne with you.”

This would not blind us, however. Every one saw what he had been about, and no small blame to him either. Of course, no one further hinted at the subject. After dinner we again wandered about the ruins, and the shades of evening surprised us while still there, to the great horror of Mrs Topgallant, and not a little to that of the Miss Masons, who had been so earnestly listening to a discourse of the Rev. Frederick on the importance of reviving monasteries, that they did not observe the sun set.

“Hillo, ladies and gentlemen! we ought to be on board again,” sung out Hearty, from the top of a high wall to which he had climbed. “There is no time to be lost, if we would not displease our mammas.”

A good deal of time, however, was lost in collecting the scattered sheep, and in carrying down the baskets to the boats, which the servants had neglected to do. When we did at length reach the spot at which we had landed, a bank of mud was alone to be seen, and one of the men brought us the pleasing intelligence that the nearest place at which we could possibly embark was about a mile down the river.

“We here have a convincing proof that time and tide wait for no one,” cried Bubble; “or the latter would certainly have remained up for the convenience of so many charming young ladies.”

“Shocking!” exclaimed Mrs Topgallant.

“What will our mammas say?” ejaculated all the fair damsels.

“That it’s very improper,” said the chaperone-general.

“It can’t be helped now; so if we do not intend to spend the night on the beach, we had better keep moving,” observed one of the gentlemen.

Henry Flareup expressed his opinion that the dismay their non-arrival would cause would be jolly fun, and the Miss Rattlers were in ecstasies of delight at the contretemps.

However, no one grumbled very much, and at last we reached the boats. A new difficulty then arose. They barely floated with the crews in them, but with passengers on board they would be aground. The men had to get out, and, as it was, the only approach to them was over wet mud of a soft nature, yet no persuasions would induce the ladies to be carried to them. Mrs Topgallant would not hear of such a thing, and boldly led the van through the mud. The young ladies followed, nearly losing their shoes, and most effectually draggling (I believe it is a proper word) their gowns. Hearty counted them off to see, as he said, that none were missing; and then began the work of getting the boats afloat, one or two of the ladies, not accustomed to yachting, being dreadfully alarmed at seeing the men jump overboard, to lift them along. Huzza! off we went at last, and pulled towards the “Frolic.”

“Let’s get back as fast as we can, Snow,” exclaimed Hearty, as soon as he stepped on deck.

“Beg pardon, sir, it won’t be very fast, though,” answered the master.

“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.