The Naval Cadet: A Story of Adventures on Land and Sea by Gordon Stables - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXXI.
 SAFELY HOME AT LAST.

Yes, after all their tales and adventures, our heroes are once more safe on British ground. What says Dibdin?

"No more of winds and waves the sport,
 Our vessel is arrived in port;
 At anchor, see, she safely rides,
 And gay red ropes adorn her sides.
 The sails are furl'd, the sheets belay'd;
 The flag that floats astern display'd,
 Deserted are the useless shrouds,
 The lasses row aboard by crowds.
 Then come, my lads, let joy abound,
 We're safely moor'd on English ground!"

* * * * * * * * * * *

It only remains for me to "muster by open list", as we say in the Royal Navy.

Let me say a word or two, then, about my dramatis personæ, and so clue up.

There are always a few surprises awaiting the sailor when he returns home after a long cruise. Jack looks forward to these with some anxiety, as the ship is getting nearer and still more near to the chalky cliffs of Old England. He thinks himself a very happy man indeed if these surprises turn out to be pleasant ones; which, alas! they are not always. Some dear one,—father, mother, wife, sister, or sweetheart, who ought to have come out in a shore-boat to meet him, is missing.

But there are friends alongside to bear him the sad tidings.

She is dead! He is dead!

And poor Jack had been so expectantly happy for days and weeks before this! He had entirely forgotten that there was any such thing as death in the world.

Look at his sadly bewildered face now.

"Courage, Jack, courage!" says some brave mess-mate with a tear in his eye. Jack returns the pressure of the hard yet friendly hand, but—goes down below to weep.

* * * * * * * * * * *

As soon as the Osprey was paid off, and he had bade farewell to his mess-mates, Creggan, accompanied by his dearest friend the Ugly Duckling, took train for Torquay.

He did not even telegraph to say he was coming. The two arm in arm, after paying off the hansom they had chartered, sauntered up the terraced garden and rang the great hall bell.

Ah! but Matty herself had been watching. A lovely girl she was now of sweet seventeen.

The meeting of the lovers, for lovers I now may call them, was heartfelt and cordial; but Creggan did not venture to kiss her.

Then she spied the empty sleeve, and, girl-like, burst into tears.

"Ah, never mind, dear!" said Creggan soothingly. "See what it has brought me—honour and glory, and the Victoria Cross."

"Oh, Creggan, Creggan," cried Matty, "the poor arm was worth a thousand Victoria Crosses!"

"Oh, it wasn't for that I got the Cross! But how do you come to be here, Matty?"

"Oh, I've been living here for months. Just keeping your dear mother company."

"And where is mother?"

"She has gone into the town. She will be home soon. You will have time to tell me quite a deal before she comes."

The Ugly Duckling, with Admiral Jacko in full uniform, had been standing at some little distance, but now Creggan beckoned him forward and introduced him.

"My dearest friend and shipmate, Matty."

The Duckling bowed, ship-shape and sailor-fashion; so did the Admiral.

Matty was laughing now right merrily.

"I'm sure," said his master, "Admiral Jacko would make a speech if he could. I must make one in his stead. Well, Miss Matty, I can't help saying what I think, you're just about the sweetest, all-tautest little craft I've seen since I left Venezuela, and if I were not engaged to be married, why—I'd—I'd run my friend aboard, cut him out, and marry you myself."

Matty bent down over Oscar to caress him, but at the same time to hide her blushes.

"Well, I'm going to take Jacko inside," said the Duckling. "I'm sure I shall find something for him to eat, and something to drink."

And away he marched, which was really very kind and thoughtful of him.

Then hand in hand down through the shrubbery and rose lawns went Creggan and Matty. Ah!—

"There's nothing half so sweet in life
 As love's young dream".

Creggan felt almost too happy to speak. But he did speak at last, and from all I know he told the old, old, but ever new tale.

"Now tell me, Matty," he said after this, "how your father is. You have said my mother is well."

"Yes, and dear old father too. But he is much in London now."

"And Willie?"

"Oh, that is why Daddy is in London. Willie, you know, stood for the borough of Blankham, and was duly elected. Weren't we all so happy just? And I've been to the strangers' gallery myself, and saw Willie in his place. And really he looked by far the nicest there. I only wonder that—"

She paused.

"That what, Matty?"

"That when he rose to make a speech they coughed him down."

"Exceedingly rude!"

"Yes, but they did; and Willie got so red in the face, and I thought he was going to cry. But he just took up his hat and was going to leave, when a kind-faced gentleman with long white hair put a hand on his shoulder. I don't know what he said, but Willie went straight back to his seat and sat down again."

* * * * * * * * * * *

"But you haven't said a word about my Daddy the hermit, and I hope he lives."

"Not only does he live, Creggan, but he has left Skye and his lonely island, and has come to settle down close beside us here. He dines with us every night."

"How delightful!"

"The minister says he is clothed and in his right mind."

"Poor old Daddy, he always was in his right mind."

"Ah! but you should see how nicely he dresses now. You would take him for some reverend old professor. You will see him to-night."

"And Archie M'Lean?"

"Still in America, and I think will remain there for years. They say he is making money, and that he means to come back and marry Maggie."

"What, Maggie M'Ian?"

"Yes."

"Heigh-ho!" sighed Creggan. "I feel getting very old."

Matty laughed right merrily. "Poor old sailor!" she said roguishly. "But, oh, look, here comes Daddy himself!" And so it was.

Matty might well have said he looked like an old professor. His hair was long and gray, and he was dressed in broadcloth. Yet there was no sign of age about him as the glad smile of surprise brightened his face, and he hurried up with both hands extended to greet and welcome Creggan home.

"My own dear sailor boy!"

He could say no more just then, and like Matty took refuge in the caresses he bestowed on Oscar.

Yes, Oscar knew him well after all these years, for dogs never, never do forget the dear ones they love.

Need I add that the meeting betwixt Creggan and his mother was a happy one? Surely that is unnecessary.

The Ugly Duckling and Admiral Jacko were declared to be prisoners for three weeks.

"But my sister, madam!" was all the former urged against his imprisonment.

That objection was quickly set aside, for Creggan's mother sent for her, and she joined the jolly party at "The Pines".

* * * * * * * * * * *

Years have gone since then.

Creggan has retired, of course. One-armed sailors are not considered available for active service.

But it is only a few months since our hero led Matty to the altar, a bonnie, bonnie young bride indeed.

And the Ugly Duckling, who has also retired, having come into some money, is now master of a beautiful barque (clipper), and she is all his own.

He took the newly-wedded couple down the Mediterranean on a long honeymoon. This was all the more jolly because the hermit himself, with Oscar and Admiral Jacko, were of the party.

And so the story ends.

Oh no, not quite; I must let the Ugly Duckling have the very last word.

He and Creggan were sitting together on the quarter-deck while sailing down the blue Levant, and while the stars, so lustreful, shone above them and were reflected from the sea, it was in answer to a remark of Creggan's that he spoke.

"Yes, dear boy," he said, "I'm going out to Venezuela soon, and if Natina still loves me, she shall be my bride. For who but romantic Natina could think of giving her heart and hand to so ugly a duckling as poor me?”

END