It would be difficult indeed to say which of the animals was most glad to welcome our heroes on their return.
Hurricane Bob, after a rough canine salute, must go dashing round and round the deck, to the danger of the limbs if not the lives of the honest sailors, flashing his white teeth and his red flag of a tongue in a vain effort to allay his feelings.
Oscar was different, he had so much to say to his master, who was once again soothing and petting him, that he got great-hearted, and whined and scolded and cried by turns. Just like a dog, you know.
But Admiral Jacko confined his attentions almost solely to his master, and his joy was one of fondness, if not effusion. He crept into the Ugly Duckling's arms, and it was said that he really shed tears. But I do not quite believe that, for I am of opinion that man is, after all, the only animal who weeps, or rather woman is. Yes, I have often heard of crocodiles' tears, and what is better still, I have more than once examined the face of one of these saurian monsters who dwell in the marshy interior of Africa, and I have never seen the vestige of a tear about the ugly beast's cheeks.
Perhaps you may say I didn't go near enough.
No, catch me doing anything of the sort, because the crocodile would have played the game of "catch me quick". But I have stood at a respectful distance, and made my inspection through the telescope.
Well, I have never seen a monkey weep.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Having done her duty in Chinese waters, and heard that the Foo-kies had been well thrashed, as indeed they deserved to be, the good ship Osprey sailed once more for Bombay.
Thence she was sent down to Zanzibar with dispatches, and from that place to the Cape of Good Hope again.
On boarding the flag-ship in company with poor one-armed Creggan, his junior lieutenant, Captain Leeward was not sorry to find that at long, long last the "Ordered home" had arrived.
It was time; the commission had been a long one, and the sanitary condition of the ship was not everything that could be desired. This was principally owing to the millions of gigantic cockroaches that swarmed everywhere.
There were very many other creepie-creepies on board the Osprey as well as cockroaches. Of these latter there were two species, one the little sort, about three-quarters of an inch in length, the other, the true Blatta orientalis, two inches and a half from stem to stern, with feelers three inches long, of immense breadth of beam, spiked legs, and an outspread of wing when they flew of about three inches.
Well, there were many kinds of spiders, scorpions, earwigs, an occasional tarantula, whose bite may produce delirium and death, and whole colonies of little ants. But now and then a gigantic centiped would appear, and these are dreaded even more than are snakes.
So on the whole, the Osprey at the tail end of the commission offered a fine field for the study of natural history.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Homeward-bound! What joy it spreads over every heart on board a ship, from that of the boy who helps the cook, feeds the pets, and gets kicked about by all hands, to the captain himself, who, if he does not say much, cannot hide the pleasure that beams in his face and eyes.
There is a commander in the Royal Navy (retired), still alive while I write, who was present at the funeral of Britain's greatest hero, Admiral Nelson. This officer might well be called the father of the navy, for he is now in his hundredth year.
Well, had he come on board on Saturday night while the Osprey was making her long homeward-bound passage from the Cape to England, he would certainly have considered himself back once more in the dear days of old.
There certainly was not the same amount of tossing of cans, but the main-brace was spliced by the captain's orders, and away forward down below, around the galley and at the fo'c's'le head, many a song was heard, many a yarn spun, and many a heart beat high and warm with the thoughts of home and Merrie England.
It really appeared that the Osprey herself knew she was homeward bound.
She was the sauciest of the saucy, "for an old un", as Jack phrased it.
"The old jade!" someone would remark, as she curtseyed to a wave, flinging the spray far over the bows; "the old jade! I believe she is doing it on purpose. Whoa, lass, whoa!"
And some of the songs sung on that Saturday night were perhaps homely enough, but every one of them breathed of the brine and the billows. Two verses, for example—they were trolled by Chips the carpenter, the hoarse old bo's'n putting in a good bass, and some of Mother Carey's chickens piping a tenor as they dashed from blue wave to blue wave after itinerant white-bait—I give below:
JACK AND HIS NANCY.
"Scarce the foul hurricane was cleared,
Scarce winds and waves had ceased to rattle,
Ere a bold enemy appeared,
And, dauntless, we prepared for battle.
And now while some lov'd friend or wife
Like lightning rush'd on ev'ry fancy,
To Providence I trusted life,
Put up a prayer—and thought of Nancy.
"At last—'twas in the month of May,
The crew, it being lovely weather,
At three A.M. discovered day
And England's chalky cliffs together;
At seven up Channel how we bore!
While hopes and fears rush'd on my fancy;
At twelve I gaily jumped on shore,
And to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy."
* * * * * * * * * * *
Well, that is all very well in song, but nowadays at all events Jack doesn't get leave to jump on shore at twelve if his ship comes in at seven. Nor for a day or two, or even three. There is a clean bill of health to be got first, and any amount of little matters and morsels of red tape to be seen to.
But Nancy may come on board, and Jack isn't a bit shy at such times. Oh no, I never met a true sailor who was.
* * * * * * * * * * *
I have now to relate a very strange experience that befell Creggan and his friend the Ugly Duckling.
The ship had not long lain at anchor off the Hoe, when, after a deal of signalling from the admiral's office, Captain Leeward, with a strange smile on his face, came up to the place where the two young officers stood looking over the bulwarks at the crowd of shore-boats, and passing many a quaint and humorous remark.
Seeing the captain, they turned and saluted at once.
"I regret to inform you, gentlemen," said Captain Leeward, "that you are both prisoners. Don't be afraid; it will be a mere formality, I am sure. Meanwhile, I must do my duty. You are on parole, if you give me your word you will make no attempt to leave the ship."
"Oh, certainly, sir. But—may—may I ask you what we shall be tried for?"
The captain laughed now.
"Why," he answered, "only for assisting the Japs against an enemy with whom we are at peace. Keep up your hearts, boys. I sha'n't put a sentry over you, but just give up your sword, Lieutenant Creggan Ogg M'Vayne, and you, young sir, your dirk, to the officer of the watch."
I have no desire at this end of my story to describe the formalities—solemn enough in all conscience—of the court of inquiry.
That sword of Creggan's and the Ugly Duckling's dirk lay side by side on the green-baize-covered table, surrounded by officers in fullest uniform, and the two prisoners stood between marines with fixed bayonets, near one end of the table.
Neither of the young officers denied anything, and when asked what he had to say in his defence, Creggan replied:
"Nothing at all, except that I wear an empty sleeve in commemoration of the grandest naval battle of modern times. But I must add that I would do the same again, for it isn't in British human nature to stand by with finger in mouth while battle is raging round."
There was much grave conversation after the prisoners had been withdrawn, and finally they were ordered in.
"I dare say," whispered the Duckling to Creggan a minute before this, "it will be a shooting case. Heigh-ho! what will become of poor Jacko, and I'm sure my sister will break her heart!"
But to their joy, when they returned looking pale and anxious, the sword and dirk were handed back, and they were told that they left the court without a stain on their character.
There were positively tears in the eyes of both young fellows as the officers shook hands with them.
The admiral of the port invited both to dinner that evening. He was as anxious as anybody could be to hear a personal narrative of the great sea-fight.
I may mention here as well as elsewhere, that before Creggan went back to his mother's house at Torquay he received the Victoria Cross from the hands of Her Majesty herself, and for such an honour as this I believe the bold young fellow would have been content to go through far more than he had done.