Part 16 (1/2)

In an instant, an old yarn of father's came back to my mind, one wherein he used to tell of having once been run down by a steamer when out trawling and having had to pa.s.s the night within the Spit Buoy.

Why, I must be close on it now!

Yes, that was the sound of the bell hung from within the cage-like framework surrounding the buoy, which is moored on the edge of the shoal skirting the fairway leading into Portsmouth Harbour.

The broken water was rocking it to and fro; and, with every lurch the buoy made, this bell gave out a doleful knell as if ringing away the pa.s.sing soul of some dead sailor gone to his last account.

Perchance it was tolling for 'Gyp' and me!

This thought flashed through me for a second; but the next second I dismissed it as a craven fear, my courage returning to me.

I set my teeth, determined to fight it out to the end, when, if need be, I should die bravely.

”Hurrah, 'Gyp,' whilst there's life there's hope!” I shouted, as much to encourage the poor dog as myself, turning on my side and cuddling him well up on my chest with my right arm to keep his head out of the water, while I struck out with all my strength with my left towards the buoy, now within a stone's throw, the tide gradually sweeping us near it in spite of the wind and sea. ”There's no reason why the Spit Buoy shouldn't rescue us, the same as it did father!”

I believe 'Gyp' understood what I said, for I declare I felt his little stump tail wag against my arm, and he licked my cheek that was nearest, being otherwise too exhausted to give expression to his emotion by bark or whine.

We did it too.

After a stiff swim, though but such a short distance, I clutched hold of a becket attached to the side of the buoy; and then, drawing myself up out of the water, I landed 'Gyp' inside our refuge, climbing in after him myself.

The lifeboat from the _Martin_, which was manned by four stout seamen, the commander himself coming in her as c.o.xswain, meanwhile was making for us, the course of the cutter being directed by signals from the brig, where the signalman on duty had probably kept his gla.s.s on me from the moment I jumped overboard and rose to the surface; and, presently, after a long pull and a hard one too, the boat came up to the buoy and took us off.

'By the Lord Harry!' as father used to exclaim sometimes when he was excited, you should have only heard the cheer that greeted us when the cutter got back to the brig, which had now dropped her anchor; the boys and older hands also, who were just on their way down from aloft after furling the sails, manning the rigging, and giving out a wild and hearty 'Hooray' that might have been heard in the dockyard.

The commander complimented me on the quarter-deck, saying that my action was a plucky one to jump overboard as I did, whether to save man or dog; and then ordering the steward to fetch me a stiff gla.s.s of hot brandy- and-water, he told me to go below and turn in to my hammock.

'Gyp,' however, would not leave me; and, as he insisted on joining company with me in my hammock, I made him go shares with the brandy-and- water as well, though I can't say that he took his portion with as much satisfaction.

His master, on coming to hear of the occurrence when he returned from leave, was, I need hardly say, delighted that 'Gyp' had been saved from a watery grave.

He extolled, indeed, my really unpremeditated action in much higher terms than it actually deserved; for, really, I did it, as I have said before, without thinking.

However, be that as it may, the captain, commending me on my good conduct generally since I had been attached to the training-s.h.i.+p under his command, pa.s.sed over in the most honourable way that unfortunate smoking episode of mine, and promised to 'keep his eye on me.'

This, I may add, he did in a much more satisfactory manner than that smart chap, s.h.i.+p's corporal Smithers; but, of this, you will learn anon.

My days in the _Saint Vincent_, you must know, were now drawing to a close.

Nine months of second-cla.s.s boy instruction and four months as a first- cla.s.s boy had pretty well taken me through the ordinary routine of the training-s.h.i.+p; the last two months of my stay on board being mainly devoted to a _resume_ of the various studies const.i.tuting seamans.h.i.+p which I had already gone through, as well as a grand rehearsal of gun practice and rifle drill and of the sword exercise.

In this latter all the boys took the keenest delight, cutting and slas.h.i.+ng at one another with a go and gusto worthy of all admiration.

We pointed, guarded, and parried, with a nimbleness and correctness that excited the praise of our instructor; but when we got to what was called 'general practice,' and learnt cuts 'One' and 'Two,' with an extra 'Point,' before our teacher sang out 'Guard!' our enthusiasm knew no bounds, and all of us would fancy ourselves to be bluejackets in action, boarding a pirate or leading a storming-party and killing hecatombs of enemies on the war-path, our weapons mowing them down with every sweep!

Sometimes our sword-play got us into sc.r.a.pes, when two boys matched against each other by the instructor allowed their zeal to overcome their discretion; for, occasionally, they would lose their tempers when over the single-sticks and give one another such spiteful blows that the instructor would have to interfere and separate them by force of arms.

In the majority of cases, however, the scratches we received were more the result of accident than of malice intent; and the little embroilments that happened when sword-play degenerated into horseplay were not, as a rule, worth mentioning.

On one occasion, though, my chum Mick nearly had his nose carved off in an encounter with a comrade, though luckily his opponent did not succeed in spoiling Mick's beauty.