Three Commanders — Chapter Twenty Two, part 2

Not till morning dawned did they return on board.

Honest Higson was, of course, the hero of the evening, and it was very evident, from the attention the colonel paid him, that he was well pleased with his intended son-in-law.

At breakfast the next morning, Higson begged Jack to wait till his wedding, which he told him had been fixed for the next day.

"Rather sharp work," observed Jack.

"Why, the fact is," answered Higson, "Madame Paskiewich is anxious to give the marriage eclat by having the advantage of your presence, and that of my late shipmates, and, as the young lady did not object, of course I was delighted, and I hope you will be able to stay."

Jack of course agreed, and the news, soon spreading round the ship, afforded infinite satisfaction.

It would take more space than can be allowed to describe the magnificence of the fete.

As many of the officers as could be spared were invited on shore, while an abundance of good viands were sent off to those who had to remain on board to take care of the ship.

The whole neighbourhood were assembled in their gayest costumes.

The upper classes were entertained either in the house, or in a large marquee erected on the lawn, and tables were spread in the neighbouring field for the peasantry and seamen, who, though they could not exchange many ideas, became nevertheless on excellent terms.

Everyone, indeed, seemed to forget that a few months before their respective nations had been engaged in a fierce and bloody struggle.

The marriage ceremony was performed in a neighbouring church.

Though Jack, who acted as Higson's best man, did not admire the style of service, and the pictures of saints, and bowings and singing, he came to the conclusion that his friend was as firmly spliced as he would have been in a quiet English country church; and that, after all, as he remarked to him, was the chief point to be considered.

The officers and crew of the _Tornado_ made all the preparations in their power to do honour to their former first lieutenant's marriage;

the ship was decked with flags, and the boats' crews who had attended the wedding requested the honour of escorting the young couple round the ship.

A barge having been got ready for their reception accordingly, Higson, leading his bride down to the water, embarked, and was rowed three times round the ship; while the crew manned yards, the band played "Haste to the wedding," and the guns fired a salute.

Jack and his officers had also arranged to give a ball on board, and invitations had been sent out through Madame Paskiewich to all her acquaintances.

The ship for the purpose had been housed in, and by an extensive use of bunting the deck had been converted into a perfect ballroom, while a handsome supper was laid out in Jack's cabin and the gun-room.

The ship's boats, aided by a few from the shore, were employed in bringing off the guests; and as they danced away merrily to the music of the ship's band, few recollected that a few months before the big guns on that deck had been busily engaged in firing on their countrymen.

It was one proof of many how slight an interest the nation at large had felt in the war, which they had looked upon as an imperial affair, with which they themselves had nothing to do beyond sending, as in duty bound, their quota of friends and relatives to be slaughtered.

Altogether, the ball was pronounced a success, and the officers and their guests parted mutually satisfied with each other.

Feodorowna, who suspected that Jack had been the cause of Tom's being spirited away, could not help at first exhibiting her displeasure, but by degrees he calmed her anger, assuring her that Tom would have proved a very unsatisfactory husband, as he was much too young for her, and would in a few months have got heartily sick of an idle life on shore, and have either taken to drinking, or run away; and that she would do much more wisely to choose an older partner for life; on which she naively inquired whether his second lieutenant was disengaged.

Jack assured her that he was wedded to the muses, and that he doubted much whether even for her sake he would be induced to break off his engagement, but that he would ask him.

On Mildmay's begging to be excused, she begged Jack to select one of the officers; but he told her that notwithstanding his wish to oblige her, such not being the duty of a captain of a man-of-war, he must decline interfering in the matter.

The result was, that, having bade Higson and his bride farewell, and wished them every happiness, Jack ordered the fires to be got up, and steamed away down the river.

Greatly to his satisfaction, on his return to Constantinople, he was ordered off to Malta, where he found Julia Giffard and her father.

Jack thought Julia looking as blooming as ever; she acknowledged that the voyage had done her so much good that she thought she should be ready to go back again, should he be ordered to England.

"Then your father will, I hope, take a passage on board my ship," said Jack; "the admiral will not now object to your doing so; but had I the happiness of calling you my wife, it would be against the rules of the service, and I should very likely be compelled to let you come home by some other vessel."

Julia raised no objection to this proposal, and the colonel very kindly said he wished to do whatever his daughter liked.

Jack, therefore, waited with some anxiety to hear the admiral's decision as to his future proceedings.

To assist in deciding the point, he directed the engineer to make a report as to the state of the engines; while the carpenter sent one in respecting the condition of the ship.

Both were of opinion that though her safety would not be endangered by the voyage home, she was in a condition to require such a thorough repair as could only be obtained in England.

"In fact, Commander Rogers, you have no objection to go home and pay off your ship, I presume?"

observed the admiral; "you certainly have not had much opportunity of allowing the weeds to grow on your keel since she was commissioned, and I shall therefore send you home with despatches;

when the Admiralty will decide whether or not to pay the ship off."

Jack, highly pleased, came back with the news to Julia, who the next day took possession of the cabin Jack had fitted up for her accommodation.

"This is indeed perfect," she exclaimed, as she admired the neat chintz curtains and furniture, vases and flowers and pictures, which adorned the bulkheads; "I had no idea that a cabin could be made so nice and pretty."

The colonel was equally well pleased with the accommodation provided for him, and Jack felt a proud satisfaction at being able to carry home his intended bride on board his own ship.

We must leave them to make the passage, forgetful of the possible storms, and the many other dangers to which those who voyage upon the fickle ocean are exposed, and follow Adair on board the _Gleam_.

On touching at Gibraltar, Adair saw by the papers that the _Giaour_, instead of being paid off, was ordered to proceed to the Cape; and, as far as he could make out, Murray still commanded her.

"Poor Alick!"

he exclaimed; "I thought he would now be allowed to remain on shore, and enjoy the society of his wife; there are plenty of other fellows who are not so blessed, who would have been delighted to supersede him."

Adair was beginning to sympathise with his benedict friend, hoping as he did, in spite of adverse circumstances, ere long to belong to that fraternity.

While in harbour, he had a strict eye kept on Tom, who, though by this time he had regained his usual temper, might, he thought, if possible, take it into his head to try and make his way back to the Crimea.

After getting through the Straits, and when to the northward of the latitude of Cadiz, the ship encountered unusually bad weather.

Instead of improving, it became worse and worse; two of her boats were washed away, the wheel and the steering apparatus damaged, and numerous other injuries were received.

She would, indeed, have been compelled to put in to Cadiz, had not the wind shifted to the southward; when, setting her close-reefed topsails, she ran on before the gale.

"Well, old fellow, our sweethearts and wives have got hold of the tow-ropes, and are hauling us along at a famous rate," observed Desmond to Tom.

"Don't talk about that sort of thing to me," answered Tom gloomily; "I have no sweetheart or wife in England to tow me along--I am only getting farther and farther from all I hold dear."

At hearing this, Gerald burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

Tom at first felt inclined to quarrel with him, but a poke in the ribs from his messmate, and the word "humbug," made him instead join in Desmond's cachinnations.

Adair had invited his midshipmen to dine with him, and had by his kind remarks succeeded in driving Tom's absurd notions out of his head.

Tom, who really felt grateful to him, talked cheerfully of home, and of the pleasure he expected to enjoy on returning there.

It was Tom's first watch.

Shortly after sunset he and the second lieutenant, who was officer of the watch, were seen standing on the bridge; the weather had somewhat moderated during the evening, but it had now come on to blow harder than ever, and the ship seemed suddenly to have entered a wild region of tossing, tumbling waves.

Adair had left the deck for a few minutes to obtain some refreshment, for he saw that the night was likely to prove a boisterous one, and he intended, as every good commander will do under such circumstances, to remain on deck.

He hurried over his meal; indeed, there was no temptation to spend any longer time over it, as even the puddings and fiddles could scarcely keep the articles on the table.

He had rung for his steward to clear away, to avoid that operation being performed by the eccentric movements of the billows, and was going towards the door of the cabin, when the ship received a tremendous blow, which made her quiver from stem to stern.

At the same time loud cries reached his ears; he sprang on deck, when, glancing towards the bridge, he saw his second lieutenant alone standing there.

"Man overboard!"

shouted several voices.

"Who is it?"

he asked.

"Mr Rogers, sir," was the answer; "he was on the bridge a moment ago, and he isn't there now."

"There he is, there he is," shouted someone; and a figure was seen struggling on the foaming crest of a sea.

Adair had made his way aft to the lifebuoy, and, pulling both the lanyards, as it dropped into the ocean, a bright light burst forth from its centre.

For one moment he gazed at it; he recollected that Tom was Lucy's brother,--he had been committed to his charge,--without aid he would be unable to reach the buoy.

Can I allow him to perish without an attempt to save him?

These thoughts flashed through his mind far more rapidly than it has taken to record them; and, without considering the fearful risk he was running, shouting to his first lieutenant to lower a boat, he plunged overboard, and was seen buffeting the tumbling seas and making his way towards the midshipman; who, catching sight of him, cried out, "All right--I see the lifebuoy, and shall soon be up to it."

Adair, believing that he said this to prevent him from exhausting himself by making efforts to assist him, contented himself by treading water and throwing off his coat, that he might be able to swim to Tom's assistance, should he prove after all unable to reach the lifebuoy.

The ship, meantime, was running on before the gale, and minutes which seemed hours passed by before her canvas could be reduced and she could be rounded to, to enable a boat to be lowered.

Besides the regular boats' crews who stood collected between two of the guns, ready for instant service, numerous volunteers had come forward, as is always found to be the case whenever there is work to be performed; the two lieutenants stood together.

"We shall sacrifice the boat's crew and boat if we make the attempt," observed the first lieutenant; "still, I wish to obey the commander's orders."

The first lieutenant and master were both of opinion that a boat could not live in such a sea; the discussion was brief, but it lost time, and every moment was of consequence.

"Surely, sir, you're going to lower a boat," cried Desmond, who observed the hesitation of his superiors; "you can't be after letting my uncle and Tom Rogers drown without an attempt to save them; it's myself would go in her, even if I go alone;" and without further remark he sprang to the lee side, where several of the crew were already collected.

"I'll go also, at all risks," cried the boatswain.

"Who'll go with me and Mr Desmond?"

The crew were standing ready with the falls in their hands; he selected six of the best men; but, as they were on the point of leaping into the boat, a sea struck her, and, lifting her bows, unhooked the forward fall, and the next instant she was dashed to fragments against the side.

"I should be throwing away your lives, my lads, to lower another boat," cried the first lieutenant, as he saw the crew running to the after-quarter boat.

"Very sad, but it can't be helped; we must look after the ship, or she'll be in a scrape presently."

By this time the light from the lifebuoy was no longer visible, and even had a boat been lowered, it would have been difficult, if not almost impossible, to find it.

The order was given to brace round the headyards, the helm was put up, and the ship was kept on her course running before the wind.

Several seas struck her, carrying away two more of her boats and committing further damage.

Had not the hatches been battened down, so tremendous was the quantity of water which flooded her decks that she would in all probability have foundered.

Still the men talked and grumbled, and asked whether all had been done that was possible to save their commander and the midshipman.

Poor Desmond was in a fearful state of grief; he declared, perhaps unjustly, that all had not been done, and that the ship ought not to have left the spot without, at all events, searching for the lifebuoy, and endeavouring, should the commander and Tom have been found clinging to it, to get them on board.

The night was unusually dark, so that had the light not continued burning this would have been impossible.

The weather, contrary to expectation, again moderated; Desmond thought that even now they ought to put back, and try to find the lifebuoy.

He expressed his opinion very strongly to the first lieutenant.

"You are using very unwarrantable language, young gentleman," was the answer; "I overlook it, as you naturally feel grieved at the loss of your uncle and friend, but I am the person to judge what it is right to do, and I should not have been warranted in risking the lives of the crew, even to attempt saving that of the commander."

Poor Desmond was silenced, and though quite indifferent to the consequences, he felt that he had already gone further than he ought to have ventured.

He was unable to recover his spirits during the remainder of the passage; he could scarcely say whether he was most sorry to lose his uncle or Tom Rogers, who was to him more even than a brother.

From their earliest days, with slight intervals, they had been shipmates and friends; then, again, he thought of the grief Tom's death would cause at Halliburton; and he had a slight inkling of the engagement between Lucy Rogers and his uncle, and having faith in the tender nature of young ladies' hearts, he fully believed that hers would be broken.

He had read Falconer's _Shipwreck_, and remembered the lines, "With terror pale unhappy Anna read," as she received the news of Palaemon's loss.

At length the ship reached Portsmouth, and was ordered at once to go into harbour.

Desmond, to whom the first lieutenant had been very civil during the remainder of the voyage, asked leave to go on shore, that he might communicate the sad news to Admiral Triton, should he be at Southsea, and get him to break it to Tom's family.

The first lieutenant, who also knew of Adair's engagement to Miss Rogers, very willingly gave him leave; for though he had acted according to the best of his judgment in not making further efforts to pick up his commander, he could not help reflecting that censorious remarks might be made on his conduct, and he was anxious to avoid any bad construction being put upon it.

Gerald hurried on shore, and made his way as fast as he could to Southsea; on reaching the admiral's house, he was at once admitted, and ushered into the drawing-room, where he found Mrs Deborah and Mrs Murray seated at the tea-table; and almost before he had time to open his mouth, the admiral stumped into the room.

"Who are you?"

he asked, examining his features; "I know you--you need not tell me; you are my old friend Paddy Adair's nephew.

I remember him when he was much younger than you are, and your jibs are cut much alike.

He sent you up with a message, I suppose--paying off his ship, and couldn't come himself?

We shall see him soon, however; he'd have come fast enough had he supposed that a certain young lady was staying here."

Not till now could Desmond get in a word.

"I am sorry to say, sir, that I bring very sad news," answered Gerald;

and he briefly described what had occurred.

The admiral, who had been standing up, tottered back into a chair as he heard it.

"I won't believe it!"

he exclaimed at last; "your uncle and Tom can't be lost--poor, poor Lucy!

and my friend Sir John and Lady Rogers, they'll be dreadfully cut up at the loss of that fine youngster, Tom.

It mayn't have been your fault, Desmond, but I wonder you didn't try and save him."

"I'd have risked my own life to do so, sir," answered Gerald; and he explained more fully all that had taken place.

"I must go on board and make inquiries about the affair!"

exclaimed the admiral.

"Deb, help me on with my greatcoat."

"Pray don't think of going, admiral; it is too late in the day, and you are not fit for such a walk," said the old lady, without moving from her chair.

Desmond had remarked the wandering way in which the admiral had spoken, as also that there was a great change in his appearance.

He assured him that there was no possible use in going on board, and persuaded him at length to give up the idea.

He grew more quiet and reasonable after he had taken a cup of tea, and observed with a sigh that it was high time he should slip his cable, since so many of his younger friends were losing the number of their mess.

"And now, youngster," he asked, "what are you going to do with yourself when your ship is paid off, which I suppose she will be in a day or two?

Have you any friends to go to?"

Desmond owned that without his uncle he should be very unwilling to return to Ballymacree, and he thought that the best thing he could do, would be to get afloat again as soon as possible.

"You are right, youngster, depend on that," said the admiral; "but in the meantime you must come and hang your hammock up here, and my sister Deborah will take care of you."

Desmond of course accepted the admiral's kind offer, and made himself very useful by walking out with the old man, who was now unfit to go out by himself, while he also made an excellent listener to his long yarns.

The next day, Mrs Murray, who sympathised greatly with poor Lucy, and Sir John and Lady Rogers, wrote to Mary that she might break the intelligence to them, which they thus fortunately heard before they saw it in the papers.

Desmond found that Murray had sailed but a short time before, but was expected back again shortly, when Mrs Murray hoped that the ship would be paid off.

Some time passed away; though Desmond frequently spoke of trying to get a ship, the admiral always replied that there would be time enough by and by, and that a spell on shore would do him no harm.

They were one day walking across Southsea Common, intending to go to some shops in the High Street, when Desmond caught sight of three officers, whom he saw by their uniforms were commanders, walking along at a rapid rate towards them.

A fourth, in a midshipman's uniform, at that moment came up from behind them.

The admiral had just before stopped to take a breath, while he leant upon Desmond's arm.

The astonishment Gerald felt made him gasp almost as much as the admiral, when he recognised Commanders Murray and Rogers and his Uncle Terence, with Tom Rogers, both of them as alive and hearty as they had ever been.

He could not restrain a shout of joy as the fact burst on his mind, though the admiral's arm prevented him from rushing forward as he was inclined to do.

"I knew it, I was sure of it," cried the admiral, as he shook the hands of the whole party.

"Now let me hear all about it.

We'll not go into Portsmouth to-day, Desmond; come back with me; come back with me.

You'll make the ladies as happy as crickets, and restore my little friend Lucy to life; by the last account she was in a sad way.

Sir John and Lady Rogers are very little better; grieving over you, you rascal, Tom; poor Mary had enough to do in looking after them.

Now I think of it, Lucy was to be with us this very day; so you are in luck, Adair;

though we must break the news to her gently, or we shall be sending her into hysterics, and doing all sorts of mischief.

As you, Murray, I am pretty sure, are eager to see your wife, we'll let you go on first, for, as she expects you, it won't have the same effect on her."

Murray gladly followed the admiral's advice, and hurried on to his house, leaving the rest of the party to stroll slowly along.

Adair then narrated the wonderful way in which he and Tom had been preserved.

Tom, though a good swimmer, was almost exhausted when Adair made his way up to him and assisted him to reach the lifebuoy, over which they both managed to get their arms.

To their dismay they saw the ship running away from them till she disappeared in the darkness.

At length, however, they again caught sight of her as she rounded to a long way to leeward.

The light burned but dimly amid the mass of spray which surrounded it, and they knew that their voices would be drowned in the loud howling of the tempest, should they exert them ever so much.

They waited, therefore, still hoping against hope that the ship would make her way up to them.

Adair well knew the difficulty she would have in finding them, and the fearful danger there would be in lowering a boat;

he even doubted whether he would have made the attempt himself.

Still neither he nor Tom gave way to despair.

They both hung on securely to the lifebuoy, and felt little or no exhaustion.

They kept their eyes fixed on the ship, believing to the last that she would stand down to them.

At length she disappeared in the darkness, and Adair knew that his first lieutenant, despairing of finding them, had borne up.

"I did not blame him, for I knew he had done his best," he said; "my only fear was that an attempt had been made to lower a boat, and that some of my poor fellows might have lost their lives in trying to save us.

"Hour after hour went by.

Tom kept up his spirits wonderfully; and I did my best to keep up mine and to cheer him.

I thought of a good many things during that period; indeed it seemed to me that I was living my life over again.

"We were looking out anxiously for morning, in the hopes that we might be seen by some passing ship, when Tom cried out that he saw a steamer standing right for us.

She came near; we shouted at the top of our voices, which were still pretty strong.

When not half a cable's length from us, what was our joy to see her stop her way and alter her course so as to avoid running us down.

When just abreast of us a boat was lowered, and, on being taken on board, great was our surprise to find ourselves on the deck of the _Giaour_.

It was only equalled by that of Murray at seeing us.

"We had no opportunity of sending home information of our merciful preservation, and, as Murray had to sail again at once, we, as you see, were the first to bring home intelligence of our safety."

"And thankful I am, my boy, that you have escaped," exclaimed the admiral, again wringing Adairs and Tom's hands.

"Well, Commander Jack, and what have you to say for yourself?

I suppose you will be starting immediately for Halliburton?"

"That must depend upon the arrangements of Colonel Giffard and his daughter, who took a passage home in my ship," answered Jack; "my belief is that they will return home shortly, to make arrangements for an event which is to come off early next month, which is no other than my marriage with Julia Giffard.

Adair has promised to be my best man; and I know I may trust to your coming, admiral."

"Not unless Sir John and Lady Rogers consent to allow Adair to take a leading part in another event of the same description; and I will now tell you, Adair, what I've done.

I have left you half my property, provided you marry Lucy Rogers within six months--that is to say, if she wishes to have you; or, in case you should decline, I have left it to her to console her for your ill-treatment."

"You are indeed most kind and generous," exclaimed Adair, wringing the admiral's hand.

"As to that, I don't know that it is any great exertion of generosity," answered the admiral; "considering that I can't take my money away with me, and that I have no relative except Deborah to whom I am bound in any way to leave it.

She'll do what she thinks fit with the other half;

either will it away to a hospital for dogs and cats, or leave it to those whom she thinks it may most benefit."

The meeting of Adair and Lucy need not be described.

Murray and Jack paid off their ships; when the former, instead of returning immediately, as he had intended, to Bercaldine, accepted an invitation to spend some weeks at Halliburton.

The double marriages took place, when, after the pleasantest time they had ever spent together, the three commanders separated, Murray going with his wife and family to his Highland home, where shortly afterwards Jack and Terence, who were on their wedding tours, paid them a visit.

Ben Snatchblock, who had been appointed to the charge of the _Stella_, had got her trim and taut as ever; and many a pleasant cruise did the old shipmates take together on board her, sometimes accompanied by their wives, and sometimes alone.

Which proved the pleasantest trips of the two we cannot venture to say, but undoubtedly on the latter occasions there was more fun and frolic on board the craft; while many a yarn of old days was spun, in which Ben took his part.

They were all, indeed, supremely happy, with no cares or responsibilities to trouble them; but the pleasantest of times must come to an end, and again the old friends parted, Jack and Terence going south with their brides, to finish their promised round of visits, while Alick and Stella remained at Bercaldine, very naturally hoping that nothing for a long time to come might compel them to leave it.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.