Part 6 (1/2)

”Right you are. Sailors allus helps a messmet. I helps you and you helps me, eh!”

”Yes, of course,” said Bob.

”Well, I'm going to have a caulk till we gets to Portsmouth. Will you take the watch?”

”The watch?”

”Ay! you won't go to sleep?”

”Oh, no!” said the Skipper; ”I couldn't now.”

”I could,” said the man, grinning; ”look-ye here.”

He snuggled up in his corner, laid his head on his canvas bag, shut his eyes, and the next minute he snored his hat off, ready for his fellow-traveller to pick it up again, lay it on the seat, and then look out of the window as the train dawdled along, stopping at every station, a long time at a junction.

It was rapidly growing dark when they reached the harbour, the sailor sound asleep; and the Skipper had to shake him and shout in his ear:--

”Portsmouth!”

CHAPTER VII.

”Ay, ay,” growled the sleepy sailor. ”What's matter?”

”We're at Portsmouth.”

”Right you are, mate,” cried the man, jumping up and fumbling in his pocket for his pa.s.s, just as the ticket collector came up. Then, on they went a short distance; the train stopped again, and s.h.i.+vering with excitement, and fear, lest the ”Flash” should have sailed, the Skipper alighted with his new friend, who shouldered his kit, and they walked off rapidly to the stairs.

Bob's eyes were wandering outward, in search of his father's vessel, which he had visited three times, but it was not lying where he saw it last, and his heart was sinking again, when his companion said sharply:

”There she lies; blue Peter up--just see it. Look at 'em hysting her lights. This way.”

The sailor was wonderfully quick and business-like, now, and all fell out, as he had said, about the boatmen, one of them grumbling; but he did not refuse the job, and in ten minutes they were getting very close to the soft grey side of the ”Flash,” with the boy trembling still, for fear he should see it begin to glide away, before he could reach the side.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”In ten minutes they were getting close to the 'Flash.'”]

But there she still swung to the buoy as they came up, and the Marine sentry at the gangway challenged.

”Good-bye,” said the Skipper, handing his threepenny piece to his travelling companion, ”and I wish you a pleasant voyage.”

The boat floated away into the darkness, and the Skipper ran up the steps, to where the sentry stood grinning, and puzzled as to whether he should call the officer of the watch to the familiar young visitor.

”Where's my father?” said the boy; ”is he in his cabin?”

”Sh.o.r.e, at the Port Admiral's, sir,” said the sentry.

Here was a disappointment; but it was something to have got on board in time, and the Skipper began to walk aft, while the Marine, taking it as a matter of course that the Captain's son should have come on board, resumed his watch.