CHAPTER EIGHT.
HAS REFERENCE TO MANY THINGS CONNECTED WITH MIND, MATTER, ANDAFFECTIONS.
The wave which had burst with such disastrous effect on the deck of thetroop-ship was but the herald of one of those short, wild storms whichoccasionally sweep with desolating violence over the Atlantic Ocean, andtoo frequently strew with wreck the western shores of Europe.
In the Bay of Biscay, as usual, the power of the gale was felt moreseverely than elsewhere.
"There's some sort o' mystery about the matter," said Jack Molloy toWilliam Armstrong, as they cowered together under the shelter of thebridge. "Why the Atlantic should tumble into this 'ere bay with greaterwiolence than elsewhere is beyond my comprehension. But any man wi'half an eye can see that it _do_ do it! Jist look at that!"
There was something indeed to look at, for, even while he spoke, amighty wave tumbled on board of the vessel, rushed over the fore decklike Niagara rapids in miniature, and slushed wildly about for aconsiderable time before it found its way through the scuppers, into thegrey wilderness of heaving billows from which it sprang.
The great ship quivered, and seemed for a moment to stagger under theblow, while the wind shrieked through the rigging as if laughing at thesuccess of its efforts, but the whitey-grey hull rose heavily, yetsteadily, out of the churning foam, rode triumphant over thebroad-backed billow that had struck her, and dived ponderously into thevalley of waters beyond.
"Don't you think," said the young soldier, whose general knowledge was alittle more extensive than that of the seaman, "that the Gulf Stream mayhave something to do with it?"
Molloy looked at the deck with philosophically solemn countenance.Deriving no apparent inspiration from that quarter, he gazed on thetumultuous chaos of salt-water with a perplexed expression. Finally andgravely he shook his weather-beaten head--
"Can't see that nohow," he said. "In course I knows that the GulfStream comes out the Gulf o' Mexico, cuts across the Atlantic in anor'-easterly direction, goes slap agin the west of England, Ireland,and Scotland, and then scurries away up the coast o' Norway--though_why_ it should do so is best known to itself; p'r'aps it's arter thefashion of an angry woman, accordin' to its own sweet will; but what hasthat got for to do wi' the Bay of Biscay O? That's wot I wants toknow."
"More to do with it than you think, Jack," answered the soldier. "Inthe first place, you're not quite, though partly, correct about the GulfStream--"
"Well, I ain't zactly a scienkrific stoodent, you know. Don't purfessto be."
"Just so, Jack. Neither am I, but I have inquired into this matter in ageneral way, an' here's _my_ notions about it."
"Draw it fine, Willum; don't be flowery," said the sailor, renewing hisquid. "Moreover, if you'll take the advice of an old salt you'll keep atighter grip o' that belayin'-pin you've got hold of, unless you wantsto be washed overboard. Now then, fire away! I'm all attention, as thecat said at the mouth o' the mouse-hole."
"Well, then," began Armstrong, with the slightly conscious air ofsuperior knowledge, "the Gulf Stream does _not_ rise in the Gulf ofMexico--"
"Did I say that it did, Willum?"
"Well, you said that it _came out of_ the Gulf of Mexico--and, no doubt,so far you are right, but what I mean is that it does not originatethere."
"W'y don't you say what you mean, then, Willum, instead o' pitchin' intoa poor chap as makes no pretence to be a purfessor? Heave ahead!"
"Well, Jack," continued the soldier, with more care as to hisstatements, "I believe, on the best authority, that the Gulf Stream isonly part of a great ocean current which originates at the equator, anda small bit of which flows north into the Atlantic, where it drives intothe Gulf of Mexico. Finding no outlet there it rushes violently roundthe gulf--"
"Gits angry, no doubt, an' that's what makes it hot?" suggested thesailor.
"Perhaps! Anyhow, it then flows, as you say, in a nor'-easterlydirection to the coasts of Great Britain and Ireland. But it does morethan that. It spreads as it goes, and also rushes straight at thecoasts of France and Spain. Here, however, it meets a strong countercurrent running south along these same coasts of France an' Spain. Thatis difficulty number one. It has to do battle wi' that current, and youknow, Jack, wherever there's a battle there's apt to be convulsions ofsome sort. Well, then, a nor'-westerly gale comes on and rolls thewhole o' the North Atlantic Ocean against these coasts. So here youhave this part of the Gulf Stream caught in another direction--on theport quarter, as you sailors might call it--"
"Never mind wot us sailors might call it, Willum. Wotever you say onthat pint you're sure to be wrong. Heave ahead!"
"Well, then," continued Armstrong, with a laugh, "that's trouble numbertwo; and these troubles, you'll observe, apply to the whole west coastof both countries; but in the Bay of Biscay there is still anotherdifficulty, for when these rushing and tormented waters try to escape,they are met fair in the face by the whole north coast of Spain, andthus--"
"_I_ sees it!" exclaimed Molloy, with a sudden beam of intelligence,"you've hit the nail on the head, Willum. Gulf Stream flies at Francein a hot rage, finds a cool current, or customer, flowin' down souththat shouts `Belay there!' At it they go, tooth an' nail, when downcomes a nor'-wester like a wolf on the fold, takes the Stream on theport quarter, as you say, an' drives both it an' the cool customer intothe bay, where the north o' Spain cries `Avast heavin', both o' you!'an' drives 'em back to where the nor'-wester's drivin' 'em on! Nowonder there's a mortal hullaballoo in the Bay o' Biscay! Why, mate,where got ye all that larnin'?"
Before his friend could reply, a terrific plunge of the vessel, avicious shriek of the wind, and the entrance of another tremendous sea,suggested that the elements were roused to unusual fury at having thesecrets of their operations thus ruthlessly revealed, and also suggestedthe propriety of the two friends seeking better shelter down below.
While this storm was raging, Miles lay in his hammock, subjected tostorms of the bosom with occasional calms between. He was enjoying oneof the calms when Armstrong passed his hammock and asked how he wasgetting on.
"Very well, Willie. Soon be all right, I think," he replied, with acontented smile.
For at that moment he had been dwelling on the agreeable fact that hehad really rescued Marion Drew from probable death, and that her parentsgratefully recognised the service--as he learned from the clergymanhimself, who expressed his gratitude in the form of frequent visits toand pleasant chats with the invalid.
The interest and sympathy which Miles had felt on first seeing this mannaturally increased, and at last he ventured to confide to him the storyof his departure from home, but said nothing about the changed name. Itis needless to relate all that was said on the occasion. One can easilyimagine the bearing of a good deal of it. The result on Miles was notvery obvious at the time, but it bore fruit after many days.
The calm in our hero's breast was not, however, of long duration. Thethought that, as a private in a marching regiment, he had not the meansto maintain Marion, in the social position to which she had beenaccustomed, was a very bitter thought, and ruffled the sea of hisfeelings with a stiff breeze. This freshened to something like a galeof rebellion when he reflected that his case was all but hopeless; for,whatever might have been the truth of the statement regarding the Frencharmy under Napoleon, that "every soldier carried a marshal's baton inhis knapsack," it did not follow that soldiers in the British army ofthe present day carried commissions in _their_ knapsacks. Indeed, heknew it was by no means a common thing for men to rise from the ranks,and he was well aware that those who did so were elevated in virtue ofqualities which he did not possess.
He was in the midst of one of his bosom storms when Sergeant Hardy cameto inquire how he did.
Somehow the quiet, grave, manly nature of that sergeant had a powerfuleffect, not only on Miles but on every one with whom he came in contact.It was not so much his words as his manner that commended him. He wascuriously contradictory, so t
o speak, in character and appearance. Thestern gravity of his countenance suggested a hard nature, but lines ofgood-humour lurking about the eyes and mouth put to flight thesuggestion, and acts of womanly tenderness on many occasions turned thescale the other way. A strong, tall, stiffly upright and slow-movingframe, led one to look only for elephantine force, but whencircumstances required prompt action our sergeant displayed powers ofcat-like activity, which were all the more tremendous that they seemedincongruous and were unexpected. From his lips you looked for a voiceof thunder--and at drill you were not disappointed--but on ordinaryoccasions his speech was soft and low; bass indeed as to its quality,but never harsh or loud.
"A gale is brewing up from the nor'-west, so Jack Molloy says," remarkedHardy, as he was about to pass on.
"Why, I thought it was blowing a gale _now_!" returned Miles. "At leastit seems so, if we may judge from the pitching and plunging."
"Ah, lad, you are judging from the landlubber's view-point," returnedthe sergeant. "Wait a bit, and you will understand better what Molloymeans when he calls this only a `capful of wind.'"
Miles had not to wait long. The gale when fully "brewed up" proved tobe no mean descendant of the family of storms which have tormented thecelebrated bay since the present economy of nature began; and many ofthose who were on board of the troop-ship at that time had their eyesopened and their minds enlarged as to the nature of a thorough gale;when hatches have to be battened down, and the dead-lights closed; whensteersmen have to be fastened in their places, and the maddened seaseems to roar defiance to the howling blast, and all things movable ondeck are swept away as if they were straws, and many things not meant tobe movable are wrenched from their fastenings with a violence thatnothing formed by man can resist, and timbers creak and groan, and loosefurniture gyrates about until smashed to pieces, and well-guarded glassand crockery leap out of bounds to irrecoverable ruin, and even theseamen plunge about and stagger, and landsmen hold on to ring-bolts andbelaying-pins, or cling to bulkheads for dear life, while mightybillows, thundering in-board, hiss along the decks, and everything,above, below, and around, seems being swept into eternity by the besomof destruction!
But the troop-ship weathered the storm nobly; and the good Lord sentfine weather and moderate winds thereafter; and ere long the soldierswere enjoying the sunshine, the sparkling waters, and the sight of thelovely shores of the blue Mediterranean.
Soon after that broken bones began to mend, and bruises to disappear;and our hero, thoroughly recovered from his accident, as well as greatlyimproved in general health, returned to his duties.
But Miles was not a happy man, for day by day he felt more and moreseverely that he had put himself in a false position. Besides theever-increasing regret for having hastily forsaken home, he had now thebitter reflection that he had voluntarily thrown away the right toaddress Marion Drew as an equal.
During the whole voyage he had scarcely an opportunity of speaking aword to her. Of course the warm-hearted girl did not forget theimportant service that had been rendered to her by the young soldier,and she took more than one occasion to visit the fore part of the vesselfor the purpose of expressing her gratitude and asking about his health,after he was able to come on deck; but as her father accompanied her onthese occasions, the conversation was conducted chiefly between him andthe reverend gentleman. Still, it was some comfort to hear her voiceand see her eyes beaming kindly on him.
Once the youth inadvertently expressed his feelings in his look, so thatMarion's eye-lids dropped, and a blush suffused her face, to hide whichshe instantly became unreasonably interested in the steam-winch besidewhich they were standing, and wanted to understand principles ofengineering which had never troubled her before!
"What _is_ the use of that curious machine?" she asked, turning towardsit quickly.
"W'y, Miss," answered Jack Molloy, who chanced to be sitting on a spareyard close at hand working a Turk's head on a manrope, "that's thesteam-winch, that is the thing wot we uses w'en we wants to hoist thingsout o' the hold, or lower 'em into it."
"Come, Marion, we must not keep our friend from his duties," said MrDrew, nodding pleasantly to Miles as he turned away.
The remark was called forth by the fact that Miles had been arrestedwhile on his way to the galley with a dish of salt pork, and with hisshirt-sleeves, as usual, tucked up!
Only once during the voyage did our hero get the chance of talking withMarion alone. The opportunity, like most pieces of good fortune, cameunexpectedly. It was on a magnificent night, just after the troop-shiphad left Malta. The sea was perfectly calm, yet affected by that oilymotion which has the effect of breaking a reflected moon into a millionfragments. All nature appeared to be hushed, and the stars wereresplendent. It was enough, as Jack Molloy said, to make even a bad manfeel good!
"Do 'ee speak from personal experience, Jack?" asked a comrade on thatoccasion.
"I might, Jim, if _you_ wasn't here," retorted Molloy; "but it's noteasy to feel bad alongside o' _you_."
"That's like a double-edged sword, Jack--cuts two ways. W'ich way d'eemean it?"
"`W'ichever way you please,' as the man said w'en the alligator axed 'imw'ether he'd prefer to be chawed up or bolted whole."
Concluding that, on the whole, the conversation of his friends did nottend to edification, Miles left them and went to one of the starboardgangways, from which he could take a contemplative view of Nature in herbeautiful robe of night. Curiously enough, Marion chanced to sauntertowards the same gangway, and unexpectedly found him there.
"A lovely night, Mr Miles," she remarked.
Miles started, and turned with slight confusion in his face, which,happily, the imperfect light concealed.
"Beautiful indeed!" he exclaimed, thinking of the face before him--notof the night!
"A cool, beautiful night like this," continued the girl--who was of theromantic age of sixteen--"will remain long, I should think, in yourmemory, and perhaps mitigate, in some degree, the hardships that arebefore you on the burning sand of Egypt."
"The memory of this night," returned Miles, with fervour, "will remainwith me _for ever_! It will not only mitigate what you are pleased tocall hardships, but will cause me to forget them altogether--forget_everything_!"
"Nay, that were impossible," rejoined Marion, with a slight laugh; "fora true soldier cannot forget Duty!"
"True, true," said Miles dubiously; "at least it ought to be true; and Ihave no doubt is so in many cases, but--"
What more he might have said cannot now be told, for they wereinterrupted at the moment by Captain Lacey, who, happening to walk inthat direction, stopped and directed Miss Drew's attention to apicturesque craft, with high lateen sails, which had just entered intothe silver pathway of the moon on the water.
Miles felt that it would be inappropriate in him to remain or to join inthe conversation. With a heart full of disappointment and indignationhe retired, and sought refuge in the darkest recesses of the pantry, towhich he was welcome at all times, being a great favourite with thesteward.
Whether it was the smell of the cheese or the ketchup we know not, buthere better thoughts came over our hero. Insignificant causes oftenproduce tremendous effects. The touching of a trigger is but a smallmatter; the effects of such a touch are sometimes deadly as well astouching. Possibly the sugar, if not the cinnamon, may have been anelement in his change of mind. At all events it is safe to say that thegeneral smell of groceries was associated with it.
Under the benign influence of this change he betook himself to the berthof the chief ship's-carpenter, with whom also he was a favourite.Finding the berth empty, and a light burning in it, he sat down to waitfor his friend. The place was comparatively quiet and retired.Bethinking himself of the little packet which he had received atPortsmouth, and which still lay unopened in the breast-pocket of hisshell-jacket, he pulled it out. Besides a Testament, it containedsundry prettily covered booklets written by Miss Robinson and others tointerest the p
ublic in our soldiers, as well as to amuse the soldiersthemselves. In glancing through "Our Soldiers and Sailors," "InstituteMemories," "Our Warfare," "The Victory," "Heaven's Light our Guide,""Good-bye," and similar works, two facts were suddenly impressed uponhis mind, and strongly illuminated--namely, that there is such a thingas living for the good of others, and that up to that time he had livedsimply and solely for himself!
The last sentence that had fallen from the lips of Marion that night wasalso strongly impressed upon him:--"a true soldier cannot forget Duty!"and he resolved that "Duty" should be his life's watchwordthenceforward. Such is the influence that a noble-minded woman mayunconsciously have over even an unsteady man!
Soon after this the troop-ship reached the end of her voyage, and castanchor off the coast of Egypt, near the far-famed city of Alexandria.