Part 30 (1/2)
”Come in,” said the carpenter in a weak voice, very unlike his usual st.u.r.dy ba.s.s. ”True Blue, is it you, my lad? Right glad to see you!” he exclaimed in a more cheerful tone. ”Well, we have had a warm brush.
Only sorry you were not with us; but we took her, as you see, though we had a hard struggle for it. Do you know, Billy, these Frenchmen do fight well sometimes. They've given me an ugly knock in the ribs; but the doctor says I shall be all to rights soon, so no matter. I don't want to be laid up in ordinary yet. Time enough when I am as old as Lord Howe. He keeps afloat; so may I for twenty years to come yet, I hope.”
Thus he ran on. He was evidently feverish from his wound.
”But oh, Abel, where is Peter Ogle?” exclaimed True Blue, interrupting him at length.
”Peter?--oh, aboard the prize!” answered Abel. ”Where did you think he was?”
”All right,” replied True Blue.
In the evening, both s.h.i.+ps went into the harbour to be refitted, an operation which, from the battered condition of the corvette and her prize, would evidently take some time.
Scarcely was the s.h.i.+p moored, when Sir Henry sent for True Blue, and told him that, on account of his having been wounded, he had obtained leave for him to have a run on sh.o.r.e, and that if he liked he would take him up to London with him, and let him see more of the wonders of the great metropolis.
The colour came to the young sailor's cheeks. ”Thank you, Sir Henry-- thank you,” he answered; ”but to be honest, I'd as lief go to my friends at Emsworth, you see, sir. They know me, and I know them; and though I should like to see her ladys.h.i.+p and the young ladies,--indeed I should,--there's Mary Ogle, Peter Ogle's daughter; and the truth is, we've come to understand each other, and talk of splicing one of these days, when I'm a bo'sun perhaps, or maybe before that. If you saw Mary, sir, I'm sure you wouldn't be offended at my wis.h.i.+ng to go down there rather than go up to big London with you, sir. But you'll give, I hope, my dutiful respect to your mother, sir, and the young ladies, and tell them it's not for want of love and duty to them that I don't come.”
”I am sure that they will think everything right of you, Freeborn,”
answered the young baronet, struck by True Blue's truthful frankness.
”But instead of being a boatswain, why not aim at being placed, as I long ago wished, on the quarterdeck? Surely it would please your Mary more, and I daresay my friends would accomplish it for you.”
”Thank you, Sir Henry--thank you. I've thought the matter over scores of times, and never thought differently,” answered True Blue with a thoughtful look. ”And do you know, sir, I'm sure that Mary wouldn't love me a bit the more because I was a Captain, than she does now, or than she will when I am a bo'sun. She isn't a lady, and doesn't set up for a lady; and why should she? I couldn't love her a bit the more than I now do if she did. You see, Sir Henry, she's a right true honest good girl, and what more can a man like me want in the world to make him happy?”
”You are right, Freeborn--you are right!” exclaimed the young baronet, springing up and taking his friend's hand; ”and I wish you every happiness your Mary can give you. Remember, too, if I am in England, invite me to your wedding, and I'll do my utmost to come to it. I have not often been at a wedding, and never thought of marrying; but I am very sure that somehow or other you will set me on the right course, by the pleasure I shall experience on that occasion.”
The next day, while Sir Henry went up to London, True Blue started off by himself to Emsworth, his G.o.dfather having too much to do in refitting the s.h.i.+p to be spared away from her. He had not given notice that he was coming, and the cry of pleasure with which he was received when his smiling countenance appeared at Peter Ogle's cottage door showed him that he might depend on a hearty welcome.
A fair girl, with the sweetest of faces, rose from her seat, and, running towards him, put out both her hands, and did not seem overwhelmed with astonishment when he threw an arm round her waist and kissed her heartily.
”Hillo, Master True Blue, are those the manners you have learned at sea?” exclaimed Mrs Ogle, not very angrily, though.
”Yes, mother,” answered Billy, laughing, and still holding Mary by the hand and looking into her face. ”It's the way I behaved scores of times whenever I've thought of the only girl I ever loved; and now, though I didn't intend to do it, I couldn't help it--indeed I couldn't. I hope you'll forgive me, Mrs Ogle, if Mary does.”
”Well, Billy, as my goodman has known you since you were a baby, and I've known you nearly as long, I suppose I must overlook it this time,”
answered Mrs Ogle. ”And now tell me, how is my husband, and Pringle, and the rest?”
”Ogle and Pringle are very well; but Abel Bush has had an ugly knock on his side. It will grieve poor Mrs Bush, I know, when I tell her.
He'll be here as soon as he is out of hospital; but he wants to be aboard again when the s.h.i.+p is ready for sea.”
Good Mrs Ogle, on hearing this, said that she would go in and prepare her neighbour for the news of Abel being wounded; and after she had done so, True Blue went and told her all the particulars, and comforted her to the best of his power; and then he hurried off to see old Mrs Pringle, who forgave him for not coming first to her, which he ought to have done.
The hours of True Blue's short stay flew quickly by--quicker by far than he wished. Never had the country to his eyes looked so beautiful, the meadows so green, the woods so fresh, and the flowers so bright; never had the birds seemed to sing so sweetly; and never had he watched with so much pleasure the sheep feeding on the distant downs, or the cattle come trooping in to their homesteads in the evening.
”After all, Mary,” he said, ”I really do think there are more things on sh.o.r.e worth looking at than I once fancied. Once I used to think that the sea was the only place fit for a man to live on, and now, though I don't like it less than I did, I do love the look of this place at all events.”
Mary smiled. They were sitting on a mossy bank on the hillside, with green fields before them and a wood on the right, in which the leaves were bursting forth fresh and bright, and a wide piece of water some hundred yards below, in which several wild fowl were dipping their wings; while beyond rose a range of smooth downs, the intermediate s.p.a.ce being sprinkled over with neat farmhouses and labourers' cottages; and rising above the trees appeared the grey, ivy-covered tower of the parish church, with the taper spire pointing upwards to the clear blue sky--not more clear or bright, though, than his Mary's eyes; so True Blue thought, whether he said it or not.
”Yes,” said Mary; ”I am sure, True Blue, when you come to know more of dear Old England, you'll love it as I do.”
”I love it now, Mary--that I do, and everything in it for your sake, Mary, and its own sake!” exclaimed True Blue enthusiastically. ”I used to think only of fighting for the King, G.o.d bless him; but now, though I won't fight the less for him than I did, I'll fight for Old England, and for you too, Mary; and not the worse either, because I shall be thinking of you, and of how I shall hope some day to come and live on sh.o.r.e with you, and perhaps go no more to sea.”