Chapter III: Part 3

We were now close to my gate, and I invited the lad to enter and refresh himself. This offer he accepted with the warmest thanks; and when seated by the comfortable fire in the kitchen, from which I dismissed for a short time my only servant, he told me the simple tale of his sorrows. I am not enough of a Scotchman to attempt to do justice to his national dialect; so much the better, perhaps, for my English readers; but I fear that what I gain in fluency I shall lose in expression. His name, he said, was Dalzell; he was the son of a respectable and thriving merchant in Kelso, who had given him, in his early years, the best education the place afforded, with the view of preparing him, at a future day, for the ministry; but before he was fifteen years old, his father, who was commonly reputed wealthy, died insolvent, and his mother and he were left in a state of utter destitution. Grief for the loss of her husband, combined with anxiety of mind, occasioned by the unexpected change in her circumstances, shortened the days of his beloved mother, and he was left in the world alone. A neighbouring farmer, pitying his distress, took him into his service, and treated him with the greatest kindness and consideration. In this place he had remained nearly four years, and had every reason to think that his master looked upon him more in the light of a friend than a servant. He had done his duty faithfully and conscientiously, because it _was_ his duty; but he was not happy; his thoughts were constantly reverting to former days, and to his blighted prospects, and he began to feel thoroughly discontented and disgusted with his menial situation, when, all at once, a powerful and absorbing feeling, like Aaron's serpent, swallowed all the rest. He loved! In the moments when his impatient spirit most winced beneath the yoke of servitude, light as it was, one glance at the bright blue eye and winning smile of Grace Douglas was sufficient to chase the cloud from his brow, and to cheer his heart with the thought that he had still something worth living for. She was his master's only daughter, just seventeen, and as bright and beautiful a creature as ever the eye of a lover rested upon. Even her beauty, however, would have failed in making any impression on the senses of the gloomy and discontented youth, had not the better feelings of his heart been excited by her tender sympathy. She knew his story; and, by her silent and unobtrusive attentions, showed her pity for his misfortunes. Her tones of kindness invested her, in his opinion, with a charm beyond mere beauty; his proud heart was melted, and his long-pent-up affections were lavished upon this new object with a violence that alarmed himself. It was not long before he was awakened to the consciousness that his love was returned; but that consciousness, blissful as it seemed at first, only gave additional bitterness to his reflections, when he thought of the difference in their respective situations. Poor, friendless, and dependent, a labourer working for his daily bread, how could he hope to gain the wealthy farmer's consent to a union with his daughter? and without _that_ consent, she had said that, much as she loved him, she never would be his. Prompt and impetuous, his resolution was soon adopted; he could not bear suspense, and was determined to put an end to it at once. He told his master all; told him that he could not bear to deceive him; that he loved his daughter, but that he was well aware it would be madness and presumption in him, situated as he was at present, to hope for his approval of his passion; that he could not live in the presence of the object of his hopeless affection; but that he meant to depart, and to endeavour, by his own exertions in some other sphere of life, to remove what he hoped was the only bar to his wishes--his poverty; his birth and education, he said, were equal to her own, and he trusted that his master had never had occasion to think otherwise than well of his private character. The good farmer was much surprised and affected by this disclosure, and, in reply, spoke in the warmest terms of commendation of his young friend; but said that, as a prudent father, he could not think of giving his consent to a union which the want of means might render an unhappy one to both parties; and that, much as he esteemed him, and grieved as he would be to part with him, he perfectly agreed as to the propriety and necessity of his departure. Next day, followed by the tears and good wishes of all the inmates of the farm, he left the house, a sorrowful but a sanguine wanderer. He had met his mistress before his departure; their parting was sad and tender. He vowed unwavering constancy and attachment, but would not accept an offered pledge of the same kind from her, leaving her free, he said, to think of or forget him. He told her he felt he was meant for better things; that brighter days would come; and that then he would return to prove that he was worthy of her. His intention, he said, was to go to sea; he had always a secret liking for it; and in the war which was now raging, he had no doubt that opportunities of distinguishing himself would present themselves. He was determined to do his duty steadily and perseveringly; her image would be ever present with him, to cheer him in the hour of danger, and to nerve him to exertion. With such a prize in view, he said, he felt confident in his own resolution, and was sanguine in his hope that fortune would eventually smile upon him.

Such was the simple and affecting tale of the wayfarer. I was as much pleased with the modest, yet firm and determined manner in which he expressed himself, as with the narrative itself. I did not attempt to dissuade him from his purpose, but, on the contrary, urged him to persevere. I told him of the many gallant commanders who had distinguished themselves in the naval annals of their country, and who had risen to rank and fame from as humble a condition as his own. It was with the greatest difficulty I persuaded him to accept of pecuniary assistance to help him on his journey, and then only on the score of its being a loan, which, if he lived, he could at some future time repay.

"I shall never forget your kindness to a friendless stranger, sir," said he, as he grasped my hand at parting. "To have met with such an unexpected friendship at my first outset, I may well consider a favourable omen; and I trust that the recollection of it will act as an additional incentive to prove myself worthy of it."

Years passed on, and I heard nothing further of my interesting acquaintance. In the meantime, I had become a husband and father; and my wife, to whom I had related the story of the young adventurer, felt equally interested with myself in his welfare, and we used often to speculate as to his probable fate. Ten years after the rencounter with which my story commences, I was sitting reading to my wife in the drawing-room, after breakfast, when we were startled by a knock at the front-door, followed by the servant's announcement that a gentleman wished to speak to me. I desired that he might be shown up-stairs, and hastened to meet him, thinking it was one of my neighbours, from whom I expected a visit. But what was my surprise when a tall, handsome man, with dark, sunburnt features, and whose person was quite strange to me, grasped my hand, and shook it most cordially, at the same time smiling as he watched the doubting scrutiny of my gaze, as a faint recollection of his features crossed my mind.

"I see you are puzzled, my dear sir," said he; "you do not remember me."

"I have a confused idea of having seen features like yours before," said I; "but where or when I cannot at this moment recall to my recollection."

"I do not wonder at your not remembering _me_," replied he, "but your disinterested kindness made an impression on a grateful heart, which neither time nor change have weakened. I am, or rather was, the boy Dalzell--the poor, friendless, desolate wanderer, whom you cheered with your benevolence, and animated by your advice. Do you remember me now?"

"I do--I do," said I, returning his warm grasp; "and most happy am I to see you again, and to see you thus; for I perceive that your sanguine hopes have not been disappointed, and that you have risen from your humble station to one more worthy of you."

"Fortune has indeed favoured me beyond my deserts," answered he. "I told you that my having met so kind a friend at my outset was a fortunate omen; it proved so. I entered the service as a boy before the mast; I am now a lieutenant in His Majesty's navy."

"I congratulate you with all my heart; but your modesty must not attribute your success to good fortune alone, there must have been merit likewise to deserve it. But I forget; I have a new acquaintance to introduce to you--my wife; a new acquaintance, but an old friend, I can assure you; for she has long been acquainted with, and felt interested in, your story."

My wife cordially welcomed him, and expressed her gratification at his return home in health and happiness.

"Alas, madam!" said he, "happiness, I fear, is as far from me as ever. I told my kind friend there, that I felt confident fortune would smile upon me: I was then a sanguine boy. Fortune _has_ smiled upon me; I have risen from the humble station in which I commenced my career; I have gained for myself rank and competency; and I am now a disappointed man--the hope that cheered me on in my career is blighted. I returned to the home in which I had left all that was most dear to me in life: I found it deserted; my old master was dead--died in poverty; and Grace--my Grace, was gone, no one knew whither."

We were both too much shocked at first by this announcement to be able to express our sympathy; but, on reflection, I expressed my conviction that there was no cause for serious alarm; that, while there was life, there was hope; and that no doubt he would, ere long, succeed in gaining some intelligence which would lead to the discovery of the orphan's retreat. I told him I would write to some friends in the neighbourhood of Kelso, who would, I was sure, be happy to exert themselves in making the necessary inquiries; and that I was able and willing to accompany him as soon as he thought proper, to assist him in his search. He was much gratified by the offer of my services, which he seemed inclined to avail himself of immediately.

"No, no, my friend," said I; "we have too lately found you, to part with you so easily. You must stay with us a few days at least, until I receive answers from Kelso, and afterwards, when we have succeeded in the object of our search, make this house your home till you have one of your own."

At first he seemed rather impatient at the delay; but gradually became more tranquillised and cheerful. He gratefully accepted my offer of extended hospitality, and pleased us by the frankness with which he seemed immediately to take us at our word, and to feel himself at home. We were both delighted with him; his manners were as pleasing as his conversation was entertaining. On my requesting him to favour us with an account of his adventures since we parted, he replied, "No one has a better claim than yourself, my dear sir, to be informed of the progress of an adventure of which you witnessed and cheered the commencement; but I feel an unwillingness to commence a story, the hero of which is the narrator, who, to do justice to it, must speak more of himself than is either seemly or agreeable."

"Oh," said I, "do not allow your modesty to stand in the way of our enjoyment. Speak fully and freely, in the consciousness that you are talking to friends, who will be pleased with the narration of the most trifling incidents connected with one in whose fate they have always felt the warmest interest."

He bowed, and without further preface commenced as follows:--"After I left you, I made the best of my way to London, and from thence to Portsmouth, where I volunteered on board the Dareall frigate, fitting out for the Cape station. I was asked if I wanted to ship as an able or ordinary seaman, and replied that I had never been at sea, but that I was active and willing. The lieutenant seemed pleased with my appearance and with my answer. 'You're just the lad for us, then,' said he; 'if you're active and willing, we'll soon make you _able_. I like the cut of your jib, my lad; and, if you perform as well as you promise, I've no doubt you'll make a smart fellow yet. Here, Telford,' said he to a boatswain's mate standing near, 'I give this youngster into your charge; make a man of him.'

"'Ay, ay, sir. Come along, young blowhard,' said he, 'as the first leaftennan has trusted your edicashun to me, we must saw wood at once, and see what we can make of that block of yourn. Can you handle a marlinspike?'

"'No.'

"'Can you reef or steer, or heave the lead?'

"'No.'

"'Then what the devil _can_ you do?'

"'I can read and write, and keep accounts.'

"'Oh, ho!--a reg'lar long-shore gemman!--the makings of a sea-lawyer! And so you can't do nothin' but read and write?'

"'Yes, there's one thing I can do, and am determined to do--to learn everything you will take the trouble to teach me. _You_ knew nothing before you were taught--how can you expect _me_ to do so?'

"'Well, there's reason in that, anyhow,' said he; 'and if so be you pays attention, why, there's no saying but we may see _you_ a bosun's mate some o' these days. But I say, young un, make your number. The poor gulpin doesn't understand me'--(this was said half aside). 'What's your name?'

"'Dalzell.'

"'Dalzell! Dalzell!' said he; 'blow'd if that isn't a Kelso name! Where d'ye hail from, eh?--where d'ye come from?'

"'Scotland.'

"'Ay, that's as plain as the nose on your face, whenever you open your mouth. Now, nobody would never go for to doubt me to be an Englishman by my lingo. But I'll tell you a bit of a secret--I'm a Scotchman born and bred.'

"'Well, I can tell you a secret too, if you'll promise not to tell it.'

"'Speak on, youngster. I'll never blab till you give me leave. I'm as silent as the ship's bell, as never speaks till it's tolled.'

"'Well, then, _Telford's_ a Kelso name, as well as Dalzell. Many a penny-bap have I bought, when I was at school, at old Jamie Telford's; and, if I'm not mistaken, I'm speaking to his son.'

"'Did you know the old boy? Bless his old heart! Well, you're right for once in your life, my boy; but how the devil did you find me out?'

"'I've often heard the old man talk of his son Tom, the boatswain's mate; and your name and your talking of Kelso together made me fancy you must be the man.'

"'Well, that beats cock-fighting! Give us your hand, my hearty! I'll stick to you through thick and thin, for the sake of the old town and them as lives in it, and if I don't, call me a liar, that's all, and see what I'll give you. But who are _your_ people? I suppose that's part o' the secret you were going to tell me?'

"'It was; and you will keep it?'

"'In coorse; didn't I tell you so afore?'

"I then told him my story, which he heard with great attention, and which evidently increased his respect for me. 'I have often heard tell of your father,' said he, 'and for his sake I'll do all I can for his son. I liked the looks of you before--I like you ten times better now; it shan't be my fault if you don't larn your duty. I'll live to see you an _admiral_ yet--who knows? You're right, however, to keep your story secret, for some o' these devil's limbs would be jeering about your being a gemman in a cog, as they calls it, come to sea to wear out his old toggery.'

"The good-hearted fellow kept his promise. Never had scholar a more zealous and indefatigable teacher, and never had teacher a pupil more anxious to avail himself of his advantages. We were detained for nearly three weeks, and I made the most of my opportunities. During the day, my friend Telford employed all his leisure time in initiating me into the mysteries of knotting and splicing, and in teaching me the names and uses of the various ropes; and at night, when there were none to laugh at my awkward exhibitions, he encouraged me to go aloft, and to learn to make active use of my hands and feet. When we went on shore on liberty, he used to hire a boat, and teach me how to handle the oar: in fact, my kind instructor neglected no means of teaching me how to make myself useful. My whole heart and soul were in the matter, and my progress was proportionably rapid; and I was cheered on to redoubled exertion by the kind encouragement of the first lieutenant, who complimented Telford highly on his success. Before the ship sailed, I was on a par, as to qualifications, with many who, without a similar stimulus to exertion, had been some time at sea. I could hand, reef, and--no, I couldn't steer--but I knew all the marks on the lead-line, and had often taken a sly cast. I was constantly on the watch for instruction, always on the alert to start forward when any particular duty was required, and, by evincing a habitual desire to do my duty actively and well, I soon gained ground in the opinion of my superiors. The caterer of the midshipman's mess had been disappointed in his servant, and wished to promote me to that _high_ honour. I thanked him heartily for his kind intentions, but declined his offer; as I wished, I said, to learn my duty as _seaman_. This coming to the ears of the first lieutenant, increased his good-will towards me. 'We shall make something of that young man yet,' said he. A circumstance occurred a few days before we sailed, fortunate in its results as far as concerned me, but which might have terminated fatally. The captain's son, one of our midshipmen, a fine boy of thirteen, had been forward on the forecastle with some orders, and, in returning aft again, stopped to look over the gangway. How the accident happened I know not, but he lost his balance, and toppled over into the water. The men were below at supper at the time, but I happened to have just come on deck, and had passed him to go forward, when I heard the plunge, and, turning round, missed him from the deck. I instantly surmised what had happened, and, raising the cry of 'A man overboard!' I dashed over after him. There was a strong tide running, and objects were indistinct in the dusk of the evening, but I fortunately caught sight of him, and reached him just in time, for he was sinking. By dint of great exertion, I contrived to support him while I edged down to a buoy, some distance astern, to which we clung till taken off by a boat from the frigate. The captain, who was on board at the time, thanked and praised me before the whole ship's company for my gallantry, as he was pleased to call it, in saving the life of his son; and the boy, after whispering to his father, came up to me, and presenting me with his watch, begged that I would accept it as a mark of his gratitude. I have it still. From that day, both father and son behaved with the most marked kindness to me, and took every opportunity of showing their good-will. For some weeks after we sailed for the Cape: nothing particular occurred beyond the regular routine of duty; but, at the end of that time, the captain wanted some one to assist his secretary, and the word was passed round the decks by the master-at-arms, for those who were good writers among the crew, to send in specimens of their penmanship. I was one of the candidates. Our specimens were sent to the captain, and all the writers were ordered aft.

"'Who is the writer of this specimen?' said the captain, pointing to mine.

"'I am, sir.'

"'And is the motto your own?' (It was, 'When a man's foot is on the first step of the ladder, he should never rest till he reach the top.')

"'Yes, sir.'

"'Indeed!--you seem to try to act on that principle. Go on as well as you have begun, and there is no telling where you may stop. In the meantime, you may act as assistant to my secretary.' He then called the first lieutenant, Mr Barlow, and walked up and down the deck with him some time; after which Mr Barlow beckoned to me to come to him:--'Dalzell,' said he, 'Captain Edwards and myself have both had reason to be satisfied with you since you joined the ship, and, as you have proved yourself to be qualified to assist his clerk, we wish to keep you separate from the ship's company, and to allow you to mess with the midshipmen, if they have no objection.'

"I felt a flushing of the cheek and a fluttering of the heart. I felt that _the first step of the ladder_ was under my foot.

"'I hope they can make no objection to me on account of character, sir; and my birth and education place me nearly on an equality with them.'

"'Ah! how came you to be here then? You took to bad courses, I suppose, and so your friends sent you to sea, to reclaim you: was that it?'

"'No, sir. Misfortune and necessity brought me here, united with the love of the profession of a sailor. It is a duty, however, which I owe to you as well as myself, on the present occasion, to appear in my true colours; and to tell you a tale which I would otherwise have kept secret, and which is only known to myself and my kind friend and townsman, Telford, the boatswain's mate.' I then proceeded to relate to him what I have already told you. Both the captain and Mr Barlow appeared to be much interested in my narrative, and were pleased to compliment me upon my independence of spirit, and the clear and distinct manner in which I expressed myself. 'After this,' said Captain Edwards, 'there can be no bar to your messing with the young gentlemen, as I suppose you have no objection to their hearing your story?'

"'None whatever, sir.'

"'Begging your pardon, Captain Frederick,' said Mr Barlow; 'I know a midshipman's berth too well, and he may tell of his birth and his misfortunes; but let him know the love, sir, and you'll never hear the end of it.'

"'I daresay you're quite right, Mr Barlow. Dalzell, I have no doubt you will be discreet in your communications, for your own sake.'

"That same day I was admitted into the midshipmen's mess, and was treated by them with the greatest kindness and consideration. My life was now a comparatively easy one, as I had hardly any duty to perform, except that of writing; but I determined in my own mind, if possible, to prove myself as quick as a clerk as I had endeavoured to do as a sailor. I was fortunate enough, in my new capacity, not only to please my immediate superior, but to add to the captain's good opinion of me. One stormy night, as we were nearing the Cape, I was letting go some rope on the poop, the hands having been called out to reef topsails, when something fell heavily upon the deck almost close to my feet. The night was so dark that I could not distinguish what it was; but I thought that a coil of rope, or something of that kind, had been thrown out of the top by the motion of the ship, and I began to feel about, to discover what it might be. My hand touched something soft and warm, and at the same time I heard a faint groan. I immediately gave the alarm, and a quartermaster brought up a lantern, by the light of which we discovered the lifeless body of young Hawkins, one of our midshipmen. He had been up furling the mizzen-royal, had lost his footing, and been precipitated to the deck. Poor fellow! he never spoke again--that groan had been his last. A few days after his death, the captain called the hands out, and told me, before them all, that he had entered me on the ship's books as midshipman, as a reward for my good behaviour; and he had no doubt that the same high sense of duty which had been the means of raising me to the quarterdeck would incite me to do credit to the appointment. He then told the ship's company to obey my orders for the future as their officer, and then dismissed them. I was immediately surrounded by the midshipmen, all of whom cordially congratulated me upon my appointment, and resolved to have a jollification on the occasion. I was much amused with my old friend Telford, who took the earliest opportunity of touching his hat to me, and calling me Mr Dalzell.

"'Why, Telford, what makes you so distant?' said I, offering my hand at the same time.

"'No, sir, thank ye,' said he; 'I knows my place better nor that. If so be you likes to give us your flipper down in your cabin, well and good; but not here, sir--not afore the people--'twould look too free-and-easy like. I'm plain Tom Telford still; but you've got a handle to your name now, Mr Dalzell.'

"My messmates laughed heartily, and Tom was desired to come down to the berth, where he shook me heartily by the hand, and wished me all manner of success, and then tossed off a tumbler of strong grog in the most approved fashion: nose invisible--eyes raised heavenward--out-stretched little finger--gurgling noise in the throat, ending with a suffocating gasp of enjoyment, and a sweeping over his mouth with the cuff of his jacket.

"I pass over a number of trifling incidents in my naval career, and shall proceed at once to the sad catastrophe by which I was deprived of my kind friend and benefactor, the captain, and of most of those with whom I had passed so many happy days. We were lying at anchor in Table Bay, one fine afternoon in November, the 4th of the month. The weather was perfectly calm, but there was a heavy swell, and clouds had been for some time gathering to the northward, and many of our weather-Solomons predicted a storm. In the midshipmen's berth, however, there were no croakers. It was the eve of the 'Gunpowder Plot,' and many a tale was told of boyish pranks, and of the bonfires and fireworks of schoolboy days. There was no care for the future, no anticipation of evil; all was life, and thoughtlessness, and mirth. Alas! alas! how little did we think what one day might bring forth! At daylight of the 5th, it was blowing a heavy gale from the northward, a quarter from which there is no shelter in Table Bay. The sea came tumbling in in long and heavy surges, and the ship plunged deeply and violently. The hands were called out at ten o'clock--'Down yards and masts!' The fore and main yards were lowered, and the topmasts were struck, and the ship, relieved by the removal of so much top weight, rode more easily. At noon, so little apprehension was felt for the effects of the storm, that a salute was fired in commemoration of the day. The gale gradually increased in violence; and at half-past twelve, after a heavy pitch, the cry was heard, 'The small bower has parted!'--'Let go the sheet!' was the order in reply, followed by the heavy plunge of the anchor. Such a mountainous sea was running at this time, that every soul on board seemed to anticipate the fatal result that followed. The ship was pitching bows under, shipping green seas over all--the sky was murky black--vivid flashes of lightning burst from it almost incessantly--and the loud rattling of the thunder, every now and then, was heard far above the howling of the gale and the roaring of the sea. Every eye was fixed in eager anxiety on the cables, which every now and then were buried in the sea, and then, as the ship rose to the swell, were seen far ahead of her, high above the surface of the water, stiff and rigid as bars of iron.

"I know not how it happened, but, amid all the uproar around me, surrounded by faces which spoke but too plainly fears for the result, and conscious that our danger was imminent, I felt a kind of unnatural buoyancy of spirits, a secret conviction that, whatever might happen, I should escape unhurt. Telford stared at me, and muttered, 'The lad's fey, as they used to say in the North.' At two o'clock, the best bower cable parted, and the spare anchor was let go, but the cable went almost immediately. Our danger was now most imminent; our sole dependence was on our sheet cable; and it was evident to all on board that _that_ could not long resist the heavy strain. Our ensign was now hoisted, union downward, that well-known signal of extreme distress; and the mournful booming of our guns seemed to our excited imaginations to be the knell of our passing minutes. At seven o'clock, a cry was heard, which, like an electric shock, was passed from one end of the ship to the other in a moment, stunning the most daring spirits with its dreaded import. The sheet cable had parted, and the ship was at the mercy of the wind and sea. An order was now given for every man to provide for his own safety, and a scene of the greatest confusion ensued. For about ten minutes, the ship continued to drive before the wind, and then struck, with a dreadful crash, upon a reef of rocks, broadside to the shore. The main and mizzen masts were immediately cut away, and the foremast soon after went by the board. To add to our horrors, the gun-room was discovered to be on fire, and in a short time the smoke came eddying up from the different hatchways in such volumes as to prevent any communication with the lower deck. Feeble would have been the efforts of man in opposing the devouring flame; but here, element was fighting against element, and the sea claimed the mastery; the vast bodies of water which were constantly dashing over the ship effected, in about ten minutes, what no human exertion could have performed, and we were saved from a fiery, to anticipate a watery death. The scene on board the wreck was now awful in the extreme; every sea that broke over her swept away new victims; and those who were left clinging to life with the energy of despair, shuddered, as they missed their companions, in the anticipation of their own approaching doom. Several of the crew, maddened by the horror of a slow and lingering death, plunged desperately into the jaws of their watery tomb, to put an end at once to their suspense; and others, in a vain attempt to reach the shore, were carried out to sea by the eddy, and perished miserably, crying in vain for help from their helpless shipmates. About half-past nine, the poop was washed away, and forming a large raft, afforded a flattering prospect of deliverance. Seventy or eighty of the crew jumped overboard, and, by great exertion, contrived to reach it. We who remained on board watched their motions with intense anxiety, and, for the moment, forgot our own danger in the contemplation of theirs. An involuntary shout burst from us, when we saw them reaching the raft in safety, and borne onwards towards the shore; but, alas! a heavy sea struck the floating wreck when only a short distance from the beach, and, turning it over and over, engulfed all its wretched occupants.

"'Poor fellows!' said Telford, who was clinging to the ring-bolts by my side, 'their cruise is up! They've reached their anchorage, and we may get our ground-tackle ready as soon as we like!'

"'Oh no!' replied I; 'while there's life there's hope, Telford. Keep up your heart, man--we shall weather this bout yet.'

"'Heaven in its mercy grant that _you_ may, Mr Dalzell! but there is a weight on _my_ heart, a dark feeling that my hour has come. I shall never see the bonny banks of Tweed again--never, never! If you should live, sir, to get back to Kelso, tell my good old father----'

"'Hold on for your life!' shouted I, as a giant sea came rushing and roaring towards the wreck.

"It burst over us; and when, gasping and half-suffocated, I was able to open my eyes, I looked round--my poor companion was gone. A dark body was visible, for a moment, on the surface of the sea, some forty yards distant, and that was the last I saw of my kind friend Telford. Soon after this, the wreck gave a heavy lurch towards the shore, and then, as the sea receded, rolled back again, and separated into three parts. I caught hold of some part of the floating wreck, and, after being repeatedly washed off, and recovering my station, I contrived to lash myself securely to it, and then exhausted nature found relief in insensibility. When I recovered, I found myself lying on the beach, surrounded by the bodies of my unfortunate shipmates, and, raising myself on my knees, I breathed a silent thanksgiving to Heaven for my almost miraculous escape. Hearing a faint groan near me, I groped my way towards the spot whence the sound proceeded--the night was very dark, but a flash of lightning revealed to me the object of my search. It was the body of a seaman stretched upon his back--the right arm extended on the sand, and the left covering the face. At first I thought it was a corpse that lay before me, so stiff, so cold, so motionless did it seem to be; but, on putting my hand on the breast, I felt the pulsation of the heart, and in a few moments low stifled moanings were heard, like those of a person labouring under the influence of nightmare. I spoke to the sleeper, but without receiving any answer; but, the muttering still continuing, I shook him gently.

"'Holloa!' shouted he, as he started to his feet.

"What was my surprise and delight, when I recognised the voice of Telford, whom I thought I had seen swallowed up by the waves.

"'Telford!' said I, 'is that you?'

"'Why, who else should it be?' replied he; 'eh, old boy, who else should it be?'

"To my great surprise, I now perceived that my poor shipmate was half-seas-over, as we call it.

"'Telford.' said I, 'do you not know me?'

"'Oh, Mr Dalzell! I ax your pardon; I didn't know it was you, seeing that all cats are grey alike in the dark. I've had a reglar snooze; but I hope I may never snooze again, if I'm to have such another dream.'

"'What have you been dreaming about?'

"'Why, sir, I dreamed I was a-drowning, and that I was going down, down, down, when I heard your voice calling out, 'Come, Telford, I'm not an admiral yet;' and with that you took me by the cuff of the neck, and then I opened my eyes, and you had a hold o' me, sure enough. But d--n--ax your pardon, sir,' said he, fumbling about; 'but it's enough to make a parson swear.'

"'Why, what's the matter?'

"'Why, sir, I've lost my call;[15] no wonder my pipe's put out.'

[Footnote 15: Silver whistle, used by the boatswain and his mates.]

"'Is that all? You may thank Heaven you did not lose your life. You had little hope of saving it when we last parted.'

"'Indeed! why, then, it can't have been a dream, after all. Blowed if I don't think I'm a little crazy in my upper works; my head is all in a whirl, and there's fifty thousand sparks dancing before my eyes. I say, Mr Dalzell, what was that you said about losing life, and all that gammon? Ax your pardon, sir--hopes no offence,' continued he, laying his hand with drunken familiarity upon my shoulder. 'Holloa! why, you're as wet as a half-wrung swab, and I'm not much better myself! What's the meaning of that?'

"'Why, the meaning of it is, that we have both had a most providential escape from drowning. You must be crazy, indeed, if you have already forgot the sad events of the last few hours. When you were swept off the wreck of the poor old Dareall, I little expected to see you again. I could almost have sworn that I saw you go down.'

"'The wreck!--ay, I remember it all now! Providential escape, _indeed_. Only think of a man, as my old father used to say, putting an enemy into his mouth to steal away his brains! I had clean forgotten all about it. Howsoever, I'll take my 'davy I was so full of water, that, afore I knowed what I was about, I took rum enough in to make me a _tumbler_--ha, ha!'

"'You seem to treat the matter very lightly, Telford; I see nothing laughable in it.'

"'Why, Lord love your honour, when the grog's in, the wit's out, you know, as the old song says.'

"'But where did you get the grog? You were sober enough, and sad enough, goodness knows, when we parted; and how did you escape?'

"'Why, your honour, I rode ashore on the back of a breaker,[16] and, as soon as I landed, I knocked my horse on the head, and found a drop of capital rum inside, and, as I was devilish cold and wet, I made a little too free with it mayhap.'

[Footnote 16: Breaker--a small cask.]

"'Well, well, it's fortunate it's no worse. Can you walk, do you think? We had better make the best of our way to the town.'

"'Walk!--to be sure I can, your honour, though perhaps I may steer a little wild or so; but, if you'll heave ahead, I'll follow in your wake, and then you won't be so apt to notice me if I give a yaw now and then.'

"We soon fell in with a party of light dragoons, by whom we were most kindly welcomed, and who assisted us in making our way to Cape Town. We afterwards heard that these gallant fellows had greatly distinguished themselves during that awful night by their humane daring; forcing their horses into the surf, to rescue the struggling survivors of the crew, many of whom would have perished but for their timely aid. In the town, we met with several of our unfortunate shipmates, to whom and to ourselves the inhabitants behaved with the greatest kindness and attention. At daylight next morning, a mournful sight presented itself; and we then ascertained the full extent of our sad loss. The whole line of beach was thickly strewed with dead bodies, and fragments of the wreck. There were only four officers and about fifty men saved--three of the lieutenants, the purser, surgeon, and two midshipmen, were fortunately on shore at the time of the accident; all the rest of the officers, and about three hundred and fifty seamen, perished. Three waggon-loads of corpses were taken to a place near the hospital, and interred; and about one hundred bodies, dreadfully mangled, were buried in one large pit on the beach, near where they were found. The body of my kind friend, the captain, was never recovered, but those of the other officers were interred, the Sunday following, with military honours. So ended my unfortunate outset in the Dareall. The survivors of her crew were drafted into other ships, and the officers were sent home by the first opportunity. I afterwards joined the Sunbeam frigate, and in due course of time got my promotion in her. As soon as she was paid off, I hastened to Kelso, fondly hoping there to find the prize, the hopes of obtaining which had for years cheered me onwards. You know how I have been disappointed. And now, my kind friends, the story of my adventures is ended."

"Oh," said I, "you have told us the _story_, but not the _whole_ story; you have still an account to give of your cruise in the Sunbeam; do not flatter yourself you are going to escape so easily."

"You must excuse me, my dear sir; I am not accustomed to act as my own trumpeter; when Telford comes, he may take the office upon himself."

"What became of that poor fellow? He must be a rough diamond."

"Rough enough; but as good-hearted a fellow, and as fine a specimen of his class, as ever lived. I wonder he has not been here before this time, for I told him I meant to come here; and he said he would give you 'a hail' as he went past, to let you know I was coming. I suppose he has 'hove to,' as he would call it, by the way."

"But how does he know the place?"

"Oh, he knew the neighbourhood from my description of it immediately; and, said he, 'if I make his number when I get there, some one will tell me where he hangs out.'"

"Well, I shall be glad to see him whenever he comes. Anna, my love," said I to my wife, "Mr Dalzell will be ready, I daresay, to do justice to your luncheon whenever it makes its appearance."

We were comfortably seated at the table, discussing our strawberries and cream, when the sound of a loud shrill whistle thrilled through our ears, followed by a rough hoarse voice, bellowing words which my wife and I could not understand. We both started from our seats, and ran to the window, which was open to admit the cool air, though the blind was down to exclude the sun. Dalzell sat still, and burst out laughing. On drawing up the blind, we saw a stout, dark-looking man, with an open and cheerful countenance, dressed like a sailor. His little shining tarpaulin hat was _flapped_ down upon the back of his head, and his long black hair hung in curls about his forehead and ears. His left arm was "absent without leave" from his empty sleeve, and in his right hand he held the little silver pipe which had caused all the commotion.

"Ax your pardon, sir," said he, touching his hat, when he saw me; "I made bold to call the hands out to muster, to see if one Leaftennan Dalzell would answer to his name. Hopes no offence, sir."

"Ah, Telford, my fine fellow, how are you?" said Dalzell, peeping over our shoulders.

"God bless your honour!" said he, respectfully raising his hat; "I'm as pleased to hear the sound of your voice as if it were the pipe to grog."

"That's saying a great deal, Tom. Why, you sway about _now_ as if you were a little top-heavy."

"Oh no, your honour; I've only been freshening the nip[17] once or twice, and my bread-basket's a little empty."

[Footnote 17: Sailor's term for taking a dram.]

"Well, come in, Tom," said I, "and we'll try to fill it for you."

Tom was soon established in a comfortable berth in the kitchen, and did ample justice to the good cheer which was placed in abundance before him. As soon as he had good time to shake his cargo into its place, he was summoned into the parlour. At first he demurred a little to change his quarters, saying that he was more in his own place in the galley[18] than in the cabin; but his reluctance was overcome when he saw spirits and water precede him. When he came in, he stood in the doorway, making sundry bobbing attempts at a bow, twirling his hat round and round, and looking as bashful as a young maiden.

[Footnote 18: Kitchen.]

"Come in, Tom," said I. "Sit down, and tell us all your adventures."

Tom, however, was too polite a man, in his own way, to sit down in the presence of his officer, till the lieutenant said--

"Come, come, Tom, bring yourself to an anchor at once."

Thus authorised, he plumped into a chair, and, putting his hat under it, carefully deposited there a large quid of tobacco, which he dislodged from its snug quarters in his left cheek.

"Now, Tom, carry on," said Mr Dalzell.

"Why, your honour," said Tom, slyly glancing at the table, "I'm in no spirits for spinning a yarn just now."

I laughed, and filled a tumbler with whisky and water, to which Tom paid his respects with evident satisfaction.

"Mr Dalzell has told us," said I, "of your escape from the wreck of the Dareall--and a wonderful one it was."

"You _may_ say that," replied he; "I never had such a narrow squeak in my life."

"But tell us something about yourself, and Mr Dalzell. I suppose you have been in action together?"

"Action!--Lord love ye, sir, we were hardly ever out of it! If I were to tell you all, I'd have nothing else to do for the next week. I always said I'd live to see him an admiral, and I say so still; and if ever man deserved a flag, there sits the man, for a braver officer and a better seaman never trod a plank, though I says it as shouldn't say it, seeing as how I first taught him to reef and steer."

"Come, come, Tom," interrupted Dalzell, "if you are going to spin such a yarn as that, the sooner you cut it the better."

"Ax your honour's pardon, but I must speak. Didn't you save my life in that 'ere action with the Flower-de-louce? Haven't you been the best friend to me I ever had? Haven't you often saved me from the gangway when I've dipped my whiskers too deep into the grog-kid? And can I sit quiet with such a glass as this before me?" emptying the tumbler as he spoke.

"Well, that's enough, Tom. If you're so fond of your grog, you had better get on with your story as fast as you can, for not a drop more shall you taste till you have finished."

"But, bless your heart, sir, how am I to begin? I'm like a marine adrift on a grating, or an ass in a hay-field. I've got lots o' yarns to tell, but I don't know which way to turn myself among them."

"Well," said Dalzell, "I'll go and take a walk, and leave you to your own devices;" and he left the room.

"Now, your honour," said Tom, addressing me, "I'll tell you a famous trick our captain sarved the Johnny Croppoes.[19] He was a dashing fellow that, and never stuck at nuffen: a reglar fire-eater--'ud face the devil himself. We was a-cruising off the coast of France, when the look-out hails the deck--'A strange sail ahead!' Well, there was crack on everything, below and aloft--clear ship for action--beat to quarters, and all that; and we were soon near enough to see a snug, business-looking craft, brig-rigged, standing to the westward under easy sail. So we fired a gun to leeward, and hoisted English colours, and she did the same, and hauled her wind to join us. When she came within hail, we found she was an English privateer, and the captain of her said he had something of consequence to tell our commander, and he was ordered to come on board. Well, the news soon spread over the ship, that the privateer had seen two French merchantmen at anchor under the guns of a small battery; that he was not strong enough to cut them out himself, and that he had hailed a king's ship the day before to tell her so, but he was not believed.

[Footnote 19: Nautical for "Crapaud"--nickname for the French.]

"'Well,' says our captain, says he, 'I'll have a slap at them at all events.'

"'I'll lead the way, sir, if you'll allow me.'

"'But'--and here they went into the cabin with the first luff; and, after staying there for some time, out they comes, and the captain of the privateer jumps into his boat, and shoves off.

"'You understand?' shouted the skipper to him.

"'Perfectly, sir.'