But the scene changes, and will change still more as this story runs on.
Our heroes are back once more in the Rattler, that only last night bumped out over the bar, and is now lying alongside the Centiped.
Colonel Fraser, of course, has returned to his own barracks, and the officers of the expedition, including Creggan, are at dinner on board the larger ship, telling and talking of all their wild adventures.
"Now, gentlemen," said the captain, "I have news for you, which I would not tell you before, lest it should spoil your appetites."
They all waited to hear it.
"The Wasp, outward bound for the slave-coast of Eastern Africa, lay-to here three days ago and sent a boat with letters for you all."
"How delightful!" cried Creggan excitedly.
"And, Captain Flint,—the Rattler is ordered home."
"Hurrah!" cried Grant, and there was a general clapping of hands all round the table, and I'm not sure but that Creggan's eyes filled with tears. He was little more than a boy, remember.
Well, the sackful of letters was duly put in the Rattler's boat when she was hauled up, and that night everybody on board that saucy gun-boat got good news—or bad.
Creggan had quite a bunch of letters, which he read in the gun-room, and again by daylight next day.
That old song keeps running through my head as I write—
"Good news from home, good news for me,
Has come across the dark blue sea,
From friends that I had left in tears,
From friends I have not seen for years.
"And since we parted long ago,
My life has been a scene of woe;
But now a joyful hour has come,
For I have got good news from home."
The second line of the second verse is, however, hardly correct as far Creggan was concerned. On the whole he had passed his time very pleasantly indeed, with some little griefs, of course. Many a storm had the Rattler weathered, and many a strange sight had he seen.
He would be entitled to a good long spell of leave when the gun-boat was paid off, and what tales he would have to tell the old hermit (his Daddy) and Archie, and last, though not least, dear wee Matty! But stay, she would be eleven years old, for Creggan was eighteen or almost.
But here were the letters from home, one each, and long ones too, from Daddy, Mr. M'Ian, Rory and Maggie, Nugent and Matty.
He kept the latter to the last. What a dear, innocent little epistle it was, and though no praise could be given to the caligraphy, which was a trifle scrawly, childish, innocent love breathed from every line.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was a bright and beautiful morning when the Rattler weighed anchor, left the Bight of Benin, and steered west and away, homeward bound for Merrie England.
As the gun-boat passed the Centiped, which would now take her place on this station, there was many a shout of "bon voyage" from the quarter-deck; the rigging was crowded with sailors like bees on a bush, and after three cheers were given, the little band of the Centiped struck up Home, Sweet Home.
The notes came quavering sweetly, sadly over the water, but soon they died away, and in an hour's time the ship they had left behind them could hardly be seen against the greenery of the trees that lined the Afric foreshore.
They made a good run that day, and when, after the ward-room dinner and gun-room supper, Grant and Creggan met upon the quarter-deck, steam had been turned off and the fires banked, for there was just enough wind to send the Rattler on. She ran before it, for it blew off the land, with stunsails set alow and aloft.
It was a delightful night, though not bright, but the clouds that covered the sky were very high and gauzy. They had many a rift of blue, however, and whenever she had a chance while the clouds went scudding on, the moon shone down on the sea with a radiance brighter than diamonds.
Now and then a shoal of playful dolphins would go leaping and dancing past. It was evident that they enjoyed the beauty of the night as well, if not better, than even Grant or Creggan could.
The Rattler's record till she reached the Bay of Biscay, which she skirted only, was really a good one for a ship of such small horse-power. Though an iron-clad, remember, she had sails and rigging as well as steam. But now the scene changed! The glass went down like falling over a cliff, banks of sugarloaf clouds rose one evening threateningly in the east, and it was evident to every seafarer on board that it was to be a dirty night. So sails were got in, and the ship made snug, while the engineer speedily got up steam.
Creggan was in the first mate's watch, and they had the middle watch to keep to-night.
A man had come down below to shake his hammock and call him. That hammock required a good deal of shaking before Creggan was thoroughly aroused. But he turned out at once.
"Better put on your oil-skins, sir," said the seaman.
"Is it blowing, then?"
"Hark, don't you hear it roar, sir? It's blowing real big guns, Dahlgrens and Armstrongs, all in a heap. Hurry up, sir! It's gone eight bells minutes ago."
Creggan was not long in getting on deck. He tied the flaps of his oil-skin over his ears and under his chin. A good thing, too, for the wind was wild enough to have torn one's hair off. Creggan could scarcely stand or stagger against it. Nor could the gun-boat make much headway either. Hardly, perhaps, a knot an hour.
The lad got aft to look at the compass. Yes, her head was north and a trifle westerly. She was boldly holding her course at all events.
It was very dark indeed, for all round the vessel the horizon was close on board of her, and the inky clouds must have been miles deep. The ship's masts seemed to cut through them when high on the top of a storm-tormented wave, and when down in the deep trough between two seas these waves thundered over the bows and came rushing aft in white foam, a rolling cataract, which, had the ship not been battened down, would have flooded the engine-room and probably drowned out the fires.
Creggan was perfectly alive to the extreme danger, for if the ship from any accident broached to, in all probability she would turn turtle and be heard of nevermore, until the sea gave up its dead.
Yet Creggan managed to get forward a few yards to the spot where the first lieutenant stood clinging to a stay, and they managed to carry on a conversation for a while.
But a kind of drowsiness stole over both, and presently they became silent.
Creggan was awakened from his lethargy by the crashing of wood forward. A mighty wave had splintered the bulwarks, and for just about half a minute the vessel fell off her course.
It was found necessary to put an extra hand to the wheel.
The storm was now at its worst. Ever and anon the waves, more than houses high, made a clean breach over her, the spray dashing as high as the fore-top, and even down the funnel.
To add to the terror, peal after peal of thunder appeared to shake the ship to her very keel. Louder far than the roar of the savage waves was this thunder, and the lightning lit up the slippery decks, and showed the men crouching and shivering aft, their faces like the faces of the dead, while over the ocean it shot and glimmered till the sea itself looked an ocean of fire.
Indeed, indeed a dreadful night!
Neither the first lieutenant nor Creggan was sorry when they were relieved.
The former beckoned the lad into the ward-room. Then he produced the beef and "fixings", as he called bread, butter, and the cruets. Both were hungry, and between them they made the joint look small.
Then Creggan went off to his hammock, commending himself as he lay down to that God who can hold the sea in the hollow of His hand.
Four hours of sweetest dreamless slumber, and when our hero went on deck after breakfast, though the wind had gone down and gone round, the seas were still high and darkling blue.
But it was now a beam wind, so fires were banked, and she went dancing on her course, as if she well knew that after all her trials and buffetings she would soon be safe in Plymouth Sound.
* * * * * * * * * * *
The evening before the Rattler sighted the chalk-cliffs of Old England Creggan had kept the first watch, from eight to twelve, therefore he would have what sailors call "all night in". That is, he turned in at twelve, and did not have to leave his hammock till about half-past seven.
On board a ship in harbour, the time youngsters turn out is five bells. I slept in a hammock myself when I first joined, and I assure the reader I didn't like to be called at five bells, or half-past six; but the quartermaster was inexorable, he used to pass along the orlop deck, where all our hammocks hung, and strike each a dig with his thumb underneath.
"Five bells, sir, please! Five bells, sir, please!"
This resounded all along the deck, and if we had not turned out in five minutes, then he took the number of the hammock and reported it to the commander. The owner of that hammock was planked. That is, he was brought on the quarter-deck and severely reprimanded.
Our sea-chests stood all round the deck, and as soon as we got up, our servants folded the bed-clothes, lashed up the hammocks, and trundled them away to the upper deck to be neatly stowed in the topgallant bulwarks.
But though we got up, we didn't always, if ever, begin to dress immediately. No, we used to mount to the top of our sea-chests, and with our night-shirts drawn down to cover the toes, and our knees up to our chins, squat there for perhaps a quarter of an hour, looking for all the world like a row of fan-tail pigeons.
Then we grew lively, opened our sea-chests, which, you know, contain a complete toilet service at the top, washed and towelled, skylarked, stole each others socks, and pelted each other with wet sponges. I dare say our marine servants were to be pitied in their almost fruitless endeavours to maintain order.
Ah! those dear old days are past and gone, and they will never come again!
* * * * * * * * * * *
However, although he had all night in, somehow it was quite an hour before Creggan dosed off. He was reviewing in his mind the events of the cruise, and thinking of home at the same time, anxiously too. It must have been months and months since the last batch of letters received were written, and some of his dear friends may have died since then. This thought made his heart beat uneasily.
Then he remembered that he had hurried into his hammock without saying his prayers.
But he did so now, and so felt more contented and happy.
All the scenes of the past three years then presented themselves in single file before his mind's eye. Had he done all he could for the service?
He really thought he had.
Poor old Daddy the hermit had given Creggan three maxims before he left his little island home, and the lad had always borne these in mind. They are not sentimental or namby-pamby, or I would not repeat them. They are just good, honest rules, that would help any sailor-boy to get his foot well on to the first rung of the ladder that leads to fame and fortune.
"My dear sonny," said the hermit, "mind you this, and mind it all your life:—
"First—If a thing is worth doing at all, it is worth doing well.
"Second—'Work while it is called to-day, for the night cometh when no man can work'.
"Third—Try to see your duty and make sure of it, and when you see it, go straight for it."
* * * * * * * * * * *
But Creggan dosed off at last, and soon slept soundly enough.
When he got into the gun-room next morning, he was saluted by his merry messmates in the following fashion.
"Creggan Ogg, hillo!"
"Hillo—o—o, old Creggan!"
"Creggan, ain't you just too awfully glad for anything?"
Our hero looked from one to the other in a kind of puzzled way.
"Are you all mad?" he said.
"No, no, no, but we're nearly home, man alive!"
"He isn't half-alive! He isn't awake yet!"
Then it began to dawn upon Creggan.
He jumped up on the locker, and had a peep out through the tiny port, or scuttle-hole.
Why, it was like looking through a mirror into fairyland. The picture was very limited, it is true, but yonder, high up on a green brae, was a long, white-washed cottage with a woman at a tub washing clothes in front of it, and a brindled cow quietly chewing her cud and looking on.
And this was home at last! A little picture from dear old England!
Creggan stopped longer upon the locker than there was any need for, because the tears had sprung to his eyes, and he cared not that his chaffing messmates should witness such weakness.
Well, soon after this they got past the breakwater and well into the beautiful Sound.
Boats in swarms begin to surround her, but not a soul, woman or man, can get on board till the medical officer comes and they get pratique, a clean bill of health.
But the men are allowed to talk from the gun-ports to their friends and relatives beneath. All are anxious all are either sad or joyful.
How the wife beams when she sees her Jack's brown face peeping smilingly down.
But oh! the grief and sorrow of some poor women when they ask some other sailor about their Tom or Bill.
"Where is Bill?"
"Where is my Tom?"
It is hard, hard to answer such questions, but it must be done.
"Ah, missus," says Jack at the port, "we've been a-fightin' hard wi' bloomin' niggers, and poor Tom got scuppered!"
Some women faint. Some turn pale, dazed, and sink down stunned in the stern-sheets.
But see, yonder comes the medical officer, and in a very short time the ship is free.
Then up swarm friends and relations, and meetings and greetings are very joyful indeed. There is a rattling fire of questions and answers all over the ship, and many a jolly laugh rings shoreward over the sea.
Creggan is on the quarter-deck. He expects no one, but suddenly he is hailed.
"Creggan, old man! How you have grown!"
"Why, is it you, Willie Nugent? And you've grown too, a little paler though."
"Oh, I wish I was as brown as you, Creggan, but I'm being dragged up for a political career, you know. And I do hate it. I wish I'd been a sailor."
"And how is your father?"
"Jolly."
"And Matty?"
"Your wee sweetheart is beautiful, and we are all well. My father has a better and larger bungalow now in Skye, and we often go out to see the hermit. He looks no older. Fact, I think he is getting young again."
"Oscar?"
"Oh, he did miss you at first. But Tomnahurich has another dog now, because he thinks on your next cruise you are bound to get Oscar with you. So Kooran, and he is a beauty, will then be his companion."
"Well, you're making me so happy, Willie; but just one more question. Ever see Archie?"
Willie laughed right merrily and mischievously.
"Why, he is here, Creggan; I was keeping this bit of news to astound you."
"Archie here!"
"Yes; I'll call him up now."
Next minute, with kindly hand extended, there walked, smiling but with eyes glistening with tears of joy, a fashionably-dressed young gentleman with a budding moustache.
"Man, is it your very, very self?"
"It is no other, dear old friend."
"I'd hardly have known you, Creggan."
"Nor I you. But explain, my boy. Why all this extensive rig-out—the top hat, the morning coat, the trousers instead of the kilt? Why all this thusness? Anybody left you a fortune, Archie?"
"No, no! I've lots of money, though," laughed Archie. "I've taken a small farm for mother and Kory, and they live in a red stone house, and have horses, cows, and sheep."
"But—"
"I'll tell you in a minute. You'll mind our games of draughts with the bits of carrot and parsnip for men?"
"Indeed I do."
"Well, a draught-player in Edinburgh challenged all Scotland for £20 to play with him. After you left I often played wi' Tomnahurich. He plays well, but though I took off men of my own, I very soon whipped off all his.
"'You'll go down to Edinburgh,' he said, 'and beat this boasting fellow. I'll lend you the money.'
"'But,' says I, 'suppose I lose it?'
"'Never mind,' says he. 'Off you go.'
"And off I went, Creggan, just the kilted ghillie I was when you left us. Well, there must have been a hundred great ladies and gentlemen to watch our ten games. They gave me a little cheer, but my opponent looked at me in proud disdain. I didn't like it, and determined to win. You know the old Cameronian motto—Whate'er a man dares he can do,—and by St. Kilda, Creggan, I soon lowered that toff's play. I won the first four games, getting his last crowned head in a fix every time.
"The room was stuffy and hot, and my head swam a bit, so he licked me in the fifth. Ah! playing in a hot room isn't like playing on the breezy cliffs, or among the wild thyme.
"Well, they opened a window, and our table was drawn near to it—and, Creggan boy, that toff never won another game.
"What cheering! what rejoicing! Why, a duchess took me in her arms and kissed me, and a tall swell caught me by the hand.
"'You dear little Highlander! You've got to come to my house to-morrow. I backed you for two thou., and I'll make you share it.'
"And now, Creggan, I'm champion player of Britain; but I've been challenged out to the States, and I hope I'll win there too."
Next day the three friends dined together at the chief hotel. Oh, such a happy night! Then, as soon as leave was obtained—the ship being paid off,—they all started for Glasgow by boat, and thence, again by boat, to the beautiful Island of Wings.