XXXIV. A SPECK ON THE SEA
In parting from John, who accompanied him to the quay, Bob had said:'Now, Jack, these be my last words to you: I give her up. I go away onpurpose, and I shall be away a long time. If in that time she shouldlist over towards ye ever so little, mind you take her. You have moreright to her than I. You chose her when my mind was elsewhere, and youbest deserve her; for I have never known you forget one woman, while I'veforgot a dozen. Take her then, if she will come, and God bless both ofye.'
Another person besides John saw Bob go. That was Derriman, who wasstanding by a bollard a little further up the quay. He did not represshis satisfaction at the sight. John looked towards him with an open gazeof contempt; for the cuffs administered to the yeoman at the inn had not,so far as the trumpet-major was aware, produced any desire to avenge thatinsult, John being, of course, quite ignorant that Festus had erroneouslyretaliated upon Bob, in his peculiar though scarcely soldierly way.Finding that he did not even now approach him, John went on his way, andthought over his intention of preserving intact the love between Anne andhis brother.
He was surprised when he next went to the mill to find how glad they allwere to see him. From the moment of Bob's return to the bosom of thedeep Anne had had no existence on land; people might have looked at herhuman body and said she had flitted thence. The sea and all thatbelonged to the sea was her daily thought and her nightly dream. She hadthe whole two-and-thirty winds under her eye, each passing gale thatushered in returning autumn being mentally registered; and she acquired aprecise knowledge of the direction in which Portsmouth, Brest, Ferrol,Cadiz, and other such likely places lay. Instead of saying her ownfamiliar prayers at night she substituted, with some confusion ofthought, the Forms of Prayer to be used at sea. John at once noticed herlorn, abstracted looks, pitied her,--how much he pitied her!--and askedwhen they were alone if there was anything he could do.
'There are two things,' she said, with almost childish eagerness in hertired eyes.
'They shall be done.'
'The first is to find out if Captain Hardy has gone back to his ship; andthe other is--O if you will do it, John!--to get me newspapers wheneverpossible.'
After this duologue John was absent for a space of three hours, and theythought he had gone back to barracks. He entered, however, at the end ofthat time, took off his forage-cap, and wiped his forehead.
'You look tired, John,' said his father.
'O no.' He went through the house till he had found Anne Garland.
'I have only done one of those things,' he said to her.
'What, already! I didn't hope for or mean to-day.'
'Captain Hardy is gone from Pos'ham. He left some days ago. We shallsoon hear that the fleet has sailed.'
'You have been all the way to Pos'ham on purpose? How good of you!'
'Well, I was anxious to know myself when Bob is likely to leave. Iexpect now that we shall soon hear from him.'
Two days later he came again. He brought a newspaper, and what wasbetter, a letter for Anne, franked by the first lieutenant of theVictory.
'Then he's aboard her,' said Anne, as she eagerly took the letter.
It was short, but as much as she could expect in the circumstances, andinformed them that the captain had been as good as his word, and hadgratified Bob's earnest wish to serve under him. The ship, with AdmiralLord Nelson on board, and accompanied by the frigate Euryalus, was tosail in two days for Plymouth, where they would be joined by others, andthence proceed to the coast of Spain.
Anne lay awake that night thinking of the Victory, and of those whofloated in her. To the best of Anne's calculation that ship of warwould, during the next twenty-four hours, pass within a few miles ofwhere she herself then lay. Next to seeing Bob, the thing that wouldgive her more pleasure than any other in the world was to see the vesselthat contained him--his floating city, his sole dependence in battle andstorm--upon whose safety from winds and enemies hung all her hope.
The morrow was market-day at the seaport, and in this she saw heropportunity. A carrier went from Overcombe at six o'clock thither, andhaving to do a little shopping for herself she gave it as a reason forher intended day's absence, and took a place in the van. When shereached the town it was still early morning, but the borough was alreadyin the zenith of its daily bustle and show. The King was always out-of-doors by six o'clock, and such cock-crow hours at Gloucester Lodgeproduced an equally forward stir among the population. She alighted, andpassed down the esplanade, as fully thronged by persons of fashion atthis time of mist and level sunlight as a watering-place in the presentday is at four in the afternoon. Dashing bucks and beaux in cocked hats,black feathers, ruffles, and frills, stared at her as she hurried along;the beach was swarming with bathing women, wearing waistbands that borethe national refrain, 'God save the King,' in gilt letters; the shopswere all open, and Sergeant Stanner, with his sword-stuck bank-notes andheroic gaze, was beating up at two guineas and a crown, the crown todrink his Majesty's health.
She soon finished her shopping, and then, crossing over into the oldtown, pursued her way along the coast-road to Portland. At the end of anhour she had been rowed across the Fleet (which then lacked theconvenience of a bridge), and reached the base of Portland Hill. Thesteep incline before her was dotted with houses, showing the pleasantpeculiarity of one man's doorstep being behind his neighbour's chimney,and slabs of stone as the common material for walls, roof, floor, pig-sty, stable-manger, door-scraper, and garden-stile. Anne gained thesummit, and followed along the central track over the huge lump offreestone which forms the peninsula, the wide sea prospect extending asshe went on. Weary with her journey, she approached the extremesoutherly peak of rock, and gazed from the cliff at Portland Bill, orBeal, as it was in those days more correctly called.
The wild, herbless, weather-worn promontory was quite a solitude, and,saving the one old lighthouse about fifty yards up the slope, scarce amark was visible to show that humanity had ever been near the spot. Annefound herself a seat on a stone, and swept with her eyes the tremulousexpanse of water around her that seemed to utter a ceaselessunintelligible incantation. Out of the three hundred and sixty degreesof her complete horizon two hundred and fifty were covered by waves, thecoup d'oeil including the area of troubled waters known as the Race,where two seas met to effect the destruction of such vessels as could notbe mastered by one. She counted the craft within her view: there werefive; no, there were only four; no, there were seven, some of the speckshaving resolved themselves into two. They were all small coasters, andkept well within sight of land.
Anne sank into a reverie. Then she heard a slight noise on her lefthand, and turning beheld an old sailor, who had approached with a glass.He was levelling it over the sea in a direction to the south-east, andsomewhat removed from that in which her own eyes had been wandering. Annemoved a few steps thitherward, so as to unclose to her view a deepersweep on that side, and by this discovered a ship of far larger size thanany which had yet dotted the main before her. Its sails were for themost part new and clean, and in comparison with its rapid progress beforethe wind the small brigs and ketches seemed standing still. Upon thisstriking object the old man's glass was bent.
'What do you see, sailor?' she asked.
'Almost nothing,' he answered. 'My sight is so gone off lately thatthings, one and all, be but a November mist to me. And yet I fain wouldsee to-day. I am looking for the Victory.'
'Why,' she said quickly.
'I have a son aboard her. He's one of three from these parts. There'sthe captain, there's my son Ned, and there's young Loveday ofOvercombe--he that lately joined.'
'Shall I look for you?' said Anne, after a pause.
'Certainly, mis'ess, if so be you please.'
Anne took the glass, and he supported it by his arm. 'It is a largeship,' she said, 'with three masts, three rows of guns along the side,and all her sails set.'
'I guessed as much.'
'There is a little flag in front--over her bowsprit.'
'The jack.'
'And there's a large one flying at her stern.'
'The ensign.'
'And a white one on her fore-topmast.'
'That's the admiral's flag, the flag of my Lord Nelson. What is herfigure-head, my dear?'
'A coat-of-arms, supported on this side by a sailor.'
Her companion nodded with satisfaction. 'On the other side of thatfigure-head is a marine.'
'She is twisting round in a curious way, and her sails sink in like oldcheeks, and she shivers like a leaf upon a tree.'
'She is in stays, for the larboard tack. I can see what she's beendoing. She's been re'ching close in to avoid the flood tide, as the windis to the sou'-west, and she's bound down; but as soon as the ebb made,d'ye see, they made sail to the west'ard. Captain Hardy may be dependedupon for that; he knows every current about here, being a native.'
'And now I can see the other side; it is a soldier where a sailor wasbefore. You are _sure_ it is the Victory?'
'I am sure.'
After this a frigate came into view--the Euryalus--sailing in the samedirection. Anne sat down, and her eyes never left the ships. 'Tell memore about the Victory,' she said.
'She is the best sailer in the service, and she carries a hundred guns.The heaviest be on the lower deck, the next size on the middle deck, thenext on the main and upper decks. My son Ned's place is on the lowerdeck, because he's short, and they put the short men below.'
Bob, though not tall, was not likely to be specially selected forshortness. She pictured him on the upper deck, in his snow-whitetrousers and jacket of navy blue, looking perhaps towards the very pointof land where she then was.
The great silent ship, with her population of blue-jackets, marines,officers, captain, and the admiral who was not to return alive, passedlike a phantom the meridian of the Bill. Sometimes her aspect was thatof a large white bat, sometimes that of a grey one. In the course oftime the watching girl saw that the ship had passed her nearest point;the breadth of her sails diminished by foreshortening, till she assumedthe form of an egg on end. After this something seemed to twinkle, andAnne, who had previously withdrawn from the old sailor, went back to him,and looked again through the glass. The twinkling was the light fallingupon the cabin windows of the ship's stern. She explained it to the oldman.
'Then we see now what the enemy have seen but once. That was in seventy-nine, when she sighted the French and Spanish fleet off Scilly, and sheretreated because she feared a landing. Well, 'tis a brave ship and shecarries brave men!'
Anne's tender bosom heaved, but she said nothing, and again becameabsorbed in contemplation.
The Victory was fast dropping away. She was on the horizon, and soonappeared hull down. That seemed to be like the beginning of a greaterend than her present vanishing. Anne Garland could not stay by thesailor any longer, and went about a stone's-throw off, where she washidden by the inequality of the cliff from his view. The vessel was nowexactly end on, and stood out in the direction of the Start, her widthhaving contracted to the proportion of a feather. She sat down again,and mechanically took out some biscuits that she had brought, foreseeingthat her waiting might be long. But she could not eat one of them;eating seemed to jar with the mental tenseness of the moment; and herundeviating gaze continued to follow the lessened ship with the fidelityof a balanced needle to a magnetic stone, all else in her beingmotionless.
The courses of the Victory were absorbed into the main, then her topsailswent, and then her top-gallants. She was now no more than a dead fly'swing on a sheet of spider's web; and even this fragment diminished. Annecould hardly bear to see the end, and yet she resolved not to flinch. Theadmiral's flag sank behind the watery line, and in a minute the verytruck of the last topmast stole away. The Victory was gone.
Anne's lip quivered as she murmured, without removing her wet eyes fromthe vacant and solemn horizon, '"They that go down to the sea in ships,that do business in great waters--"'
'"These see the works of the Lord, and His wonders in the deep,"' wasreturned by a man's voice from behind her.
Looking round quickly, she saw a soldier standing there; and the graveeyes of John Loveday bent on her.
''Tis what I was thinking,' she said, trying to be composed.
'You were saying it,' he answered gently.
'Was I?--I did not know it. . . . How came you here?' she presentlyadded.
'I have been behind you a good while; but you never turned round.'
'I was deeply occupied,' she said in an undertone.
'Yes--I too came to see him pass. I heard this morning that Lord Nelsonhad embarked, and I knew at once that they would sail immediately. TheVictory and Euryalus are to join the rest of the fleet at Plymouth. Therewas a great crowd of people assembled to see the admiral off; theycheered him and the ship as she dropped down. He took his coffin onboard with him, they say.'
'His coffin!' said Anne, turning deadly pale. 'Something terrible, then,is meant by that! O, why _would_ Bob go in that ship? doomed todestruction from the very beginning like this!'
'It was his determination to sail under Captain Hardy, and under no oneelse,' said John. 'There may be hot work; but we must hope for thebest.' And observing how wretched she looked, he added, 'But won't youlet me help you back? If you can walk as far as Hope Cove it will beenough. A lerret is going from there across the bay homeward to theharbour in the course of an hour; it belongs to a man I know, and theycan take one passenger, I am sure.'
She turned her back upon the Channel, and by his help soon reached theplace indicated. The boat was lying there as he had said. She found itto belong to the old man who had been with her at the Bill, and was incharge of his two younger sons. The trumpet-major helped her into itover the slippery blocks of stone, one of the young men spread his jacketfor her to sit on, and as soon as they pulled from shore John climbed upthe blue-grey cliff, and disappeared over the top, to return to themainland by road.
Anne was in the town by three o'clock. The trip in the stern of thelerret had quite refreshed her, with the help of the biscuits, which shehad at last been able to eat. The van from the port to Overcombe did notstart till four o'clock, and feeling no further interest in the gaietiesof the place, she strolled on past the King's house to the outskirts, hermind settling down again upon the possibly sad fate of the Victory whenshe found herself alone. She did not hurry on; and finding that even nowthere wanted another half-hour to the carrier's time, she turned into alittle lane to escape the inspection of the numerous passers-by. Hereall was quite lonely and still, and she sat down under a willow-tree,absently regarding the landscape, which had begun to put on the richtones of declining summer, but which to her was as hollow and faded as atheatre by day. She could hold out no longer; burying her face in herhands, she wept without restraint.
Some yards behind her was a little spring of water, having a stone marginround it to prevent the cattle from treading in the sides and filling itup with dirt. While she wept, two elderly gentlemen entered unperceivedupon the scene, and walked on to the spring's brink. Here they pausedand looked in, afterwards moving round it, and then stooping as if tosmell or taste its waters. The spring was, in fact, a sulphurous one,then recently discovered by a physician who lived in the neighbourhood;and it was beginning to attract some attention, having by common reportcontributed to effect such wonderful cures as almost passed belief. Aftera considerable discussion, apparently on how the pool might be improvedfor better use, one of the two elderly gentlemen turned away, leaving theother still probing the spring with his cane. The first stranger, whowore a blue coat with gilt buttons, came on in the direction of AnneGarland, and seeing her sad posture went quickly up to her, and saidabruptly, 'What is the matter?'
Anne, who in her grief had observed nothing of the gentlemen's presence,withdrew her handkerchief from her eyes and started to her feet. Sheinstantly recognised her interrog
ator as the King.
'What, what, crying?' his Majesty inquired kindly. 'How is this!'
'I--have seen a dear friend go away, sir,' she faltered, with downcasteyes.
'Ah--partings are sad--very sad--for us all. You must hope your friendwill return soon. Where is he or she gone?'
'I don't know, your Majesty.'
'Don't know--how is that?'
'He is a sailor on board the Victory.'
'Then he has reason to be proud,' said the King with interest. 'He isyour brother?'
Anne tried to explain what he was, but could not, and blushed withpainful heat.
'Well, well, well; what is his name?'
In spite of Anne's confusion and low spirits, her womanly shrewdness toldher at once that no harm could be done by revealing Bob's name; and sheanswered, 'His name is Robert Loveday, sir.'
'Loveday--a good name. I shall not forget it. Now dry your cheeks, anddon't cry any more. Loveday--Robert Loveday.'
Anne curtseyed, the King smiled good-humouredly, and turned to rejoin hiscompanion, who was afterwards heard to be Dr. ---, the physician inattendance at Gloucester Lodge. This gentleman had in the meantimefilled a small phial with the medicinal water, which he carefully placedin his pocket; and on the King coming up they retired together anddisappeared. Thereupon Anne, now thoroughly aroused, followed the sameway with a gingerly tread, just in time to see them get into a carriagewhich was in waiting at the turning of the lane.
She quite forgot the carrier, and everything else in connexion withriding home. Flying along the road rapidly and unconsciously, when sheawoke to a sense of her whereabouts she was so near to Overcombe as tomake the carrier not worth waiting for. She had been borne up in thishasty spurt at the end of a weary day by visions of Bob promoted to therank of admiral, or something equally wonderful, by the King's specialcommand, the chief result of the promotion being, in her arrangement ofthe piece, that he would stay at home and go to sea no more. But she wasnot a girl who indulged in extravagant fancies long, and before shereached home she thought that the King had probably forgotten her by thattime, and her troubles, and her lover's name.