Part 10 (1/2)

I got Mattie by the port, and said sadly enough--

”You won't ever, ever forget me, will you, dear Mattie?” I put the question with a kiss.

”No, you silly boy; I promise I won't. But what a silly question.

We'll play at pirates again to-morrow.”

I felt very much inclined to cry, but--I did not.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

ALONE ON THE MOOR--ADVENTURE IN THE CAVE.

On looking back through a long vista of years, and considering all the _pros_ and _cons_ of the case, and remembering that Jill and I were only boys, I do not think it any wonder we ran away from the dear old _Thunderbolt_ hulk. I have always accused myself to myself, for the folly of having given way to a sudden romantic impulse--for which I, being the elder of the three on board, am alone accountable--playing at pirates, firing at a flag-s.h.i.+p, and all the rest of it.

But when our little game was over, and the full enormity of the offence stared us in the face, and after what the officer of the tug-boat had told us, I repeat, it is no wonder we ran away. We were not to know the officer was, figuratively speaking, laughing in his sleeve at us. We believed him. We were convinced it would end in a drum-head court-martial, with, next day, poor Jack swung up at one end of the fore-yard, and poor dear Jill at the other. A pretty sight that would have been on a summer's morning. Romantic? Oh, yes, I own there would have been a good deal of romance about it. Rather much indeed. Our position would have been far too exalted to suit even my ambition.

Some one has said that hanging is the worst use you can put a man to, so it cannot be good for a boy.

That officer of the tug-boat, too, made so awfully light of the matter.

When I had asked him if hanging was very, very, dreadful,--

”Oh, dear me, no, my lad,” he replied, laughing, ”not half so bad as having a tooth pulled.”

Our darling mother told us never to hate anybody, but I do not think I loved that officer very much just then.

Well, how did we get away? The fact is our escape was effected far more safely and easily than I had antic.i.p.ated. I had expected that there would be a considerable deal of romance about that I felt sure they would fire shot and sh.e.l.l and shrapnel at the boat that was bearing us off, and if after throwing ourselves into the water we reached sh.o.r.e safely, they would send a regiment or two of soldiers at the very least to pursue us.

The old _Thunderbolt_, when she ran away, ”showed a pair of clean heels,” so I heard that tug-boat fellow say, because wind and tide was hurrying her on. But it was no such easy matter to get her back; so the whole morning had fled before she was once more alongside her moorings.

Then the bustle and din and the loud talking were shocking, for nearly an hour.

Mattie--I was so glad of this--got very sleepy, so we took her into Mrs Moore's room and placed her on the bed. She bade us both good-night prettily, but sleepily, and I was glad of this too, for the ”good-nights” did for the ”good-byes.” Ah! little did Mattie think we were going to leave her, but she did not feel the tear that fell on her beautiful hair as I bent over her. It was best. After this I suppose it was activity that made us feel brave. We had to look sharp, I a.s.sure you. We hurried into our cabin--ours, alas! no more--and exchanged our hats for caps, and put on our monkey jackets--our winter ones. This would not look odd, because there was quite a raw air over the water.

We went and packed our one portmanteau, taking nothing lumbersome, and no books, except our little Bibles that mamma had given us.

Then I sat down and wrote a letter, a very brief one, to Mattie. It only said, in a boy's scrawling hand--

”Dearest Mattie,--Please always pray for Jack and poor Jill.--Your loving and affectionate Jack.”

I folded this up, and glided away into the child's room and laid it on her pillow. She was sound asleep, but I kissed her brow. If I had stopped to look at her, I believe my heart would have broken in two.

Jill was waiting with the bag, and the difficulty was now to get a boat.

We had thought of getting into the dinghy and paying a man to return it. It was better we didn't.

I opened the port. The fresh morning air blew in and calmed me, and just at that moment, as if a good fairy had sent him, a sh.o.r.e boatman rounded the stern of the hulk, and was close beneath us.

”Boatman,” I said, ”can you take us on sh.o.r.e?”

He looked about him a bit and nodded. Then I dropped my bag, and he caught it _so_ neatly.