With these words, I ran down the ladderway; and, the next moment, was seated with three other cadets, who were leaving like myself to go afloat, in the sternsheets of the second cutter.

This last had been detailed by the commander to take us off to the _Candahar_; then lying alongside the old _Blake_ hulk and moored in the stream, about midway between the Sheer Jetty and the King's Stairs, where she was "fitting out for sea" as speedily as possible, the authorities having urged the utmost haste in her preparation.

"Shove off!" sang out the c.o.xswain; and, impelled by her twelve oars, that were manned by as many pairs of stalwart arms, the boat sprang through the water.

The last sound I heard, beyond the wash of the tide against the side of the cutter and the subdued breathing of the men pulling, was little Tom Mills' voice in the distance shouting until I got out of earshot, "Good-bye, Jack, old fellow, good-bye!"

CHAPTER SIX.

ON BOARD THE OLD "CANDAHAR."

"In bows!" cried the c.o.xswain of the cutter as we neared the starboard side of the old hulk to which the _Candahar_ was lashed; and, the next minute, when close up to the foot of the accommodation ladder, the same functionary shouted the usual orders on approaching to board a ship.

"Way enough. Oars!"

The oars were at once tossed, while the bowman gripped a projecting ringbolt in the side of the hulk with his boathook to hold on by; and the other cadets and myself, jumping out on to the ladderway, made our way nimbly enough up to the deck of the mastless _Blake_, pa.s.sing over her by a gangway to the _Candahar_ that lay on her further side.

Here all was apparent confusion, stores of all sorts being hoisted in by a derrick amidships from the dockyard lighters alongside and struck down the main hatchway, while ropes and tackle of every description lumbered the upper deck fore and aft.

Groups of men, clad in dirty overalls, were busy setting up the rigging and getting the yards into position; and hoa.r.s.e orders were shouted ever and anon, followed by the shrill pipe of the boatswain's whistle and the steady tramp of the hands as they walked round with the capstan and swayed the heavy spars aloft, or hauled away at the gantlines and steadying guys and purchase falls and other tackle.

The commander, the presiding spirit of the scene, if a smart officer, has never a better opportunity for showing his smartness than when a ship is fitting for sea; all the burthen of the work then falls upon his shoulders, for he has to be here and there and everywhere, directing a hundred different jobs at one and the same time.

As I went aft, and approached the hallowed ground of the quarter-deck, I saw him standing under the break of the p.o.o.p.

He was a fine, big, broad-shouldered west-countryman with the voice of a stentor; and, although he was dressed in a somewhat shabby old uniform coat and had his trousers tucked into his boots, he looked every inch a gentleman, as he was, indeed, not only by birth, but by breeding.

"Come on board, sir," said I touching my cap, when a slight lull occurred in the general din caused by the creaking blocks and groaning tackle as the heavy spars were swayed aloft, and the continual tramp of men along the deck "walking up the capstan" or hoisting at the whips leading down into the hold. "I've just come on board, sir."

"Oh, you've come on board, youngster, eh?" he repeated questioningly, slewing round in his tracks and bringing his piercing black eyes to bear on my small person; when he looked me through and through, "taking my measure" at a glance. "Ah, I see, you're one of our new cadets from the _Ill.u.s.trious_ come to report yourself, eh?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, smiling in response to the pleasant look on his face. "I've come to join the _Candahar_, sir."

"What's your name, young gentleman?"

I told him.

"Ah, you're the little shaver Mr Tangent spoke of to me the other night when I dined with the Admiral! He said he knew your father, and thought you would turn out a smart officer; so, I hope you'll support the good character he gave you. Belay there, bosun's mate, you'll let that cask down by the run if you don't look out!" he cried out suddenly to a stout petty officer who was superintending a gang of men who were taking in provisions from one of the lighters alongside, and lowering the same into the after hold. "Steady, you may carry on, now; that's better!"

"Now, my little friend," he continued, resuming his conversation with me. "We'll see how smart you can be. Run forruds and tell the bosun I want the sail burton brought aft, and an up and down tackle fitted to the mainyard, if you are able to recollect all that?"

"Oh, yes, sir," I replied, touching my cap again, "I know what a sail burton is, sir."

"And an up and down tackle, too?"

"Yes, sir; it is used for setting up the lower rigging."

"Bravo, youngster! You'll be a man before your mother if you go on at that rate!" said he, with a hearty laugh at my a.s.surance, which seemed to frighten the other cadets who came with me, for they looked as meek as mice.

But, as I trotted away at a sign of dismissal from him to seek the boatswain on the forecastle, where I knew his especial domain lay, I heard Commander Nesbitt say in an undertone to one of the lieutenants who just then stepped down from the p.o.o.p to join him. "That's a sharp lad, Cheffinch, and one who'll make his mark, if I'm not mistaken. He's quite a contrast to the sucking Nelsons they generally send us from the training-ship, who don't, as a rule, know a goose from a gridiron!"

What the lieutenant said in reply to this complimentary allusion to my whilom comrades of the _Ill.u.s.trious_, and the system of instruction pursued on board that vessel, I cannot tell, for I was out of earshot, hastening forward as speedily as I could, so as to deserve the good opinion the commander seemed to have already formed of me.

This, I may here add, I succeeded in doing; for, I made my reappearance on the quarter-deck in a brace of shakes, with the boatswain in person and a party of topmen bringing aft the respective "purchases" the commander had specified--blocks and strops and running gear of all sorts, all ready for instant service.

"Mr Hawser," said Commander Nesbitt to the boatswain as we got near, giving me a kindly nod to express his approval of my having carried out his orders so promptly, "I must have that main-tops'l yard up before you pipe to dinner."

"Very good, sir," replied the warrant officer, touching his cap again, as he had done when approaching the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck. "The spar, sir, is fitted all right for going up; but, sir, it's getting on now for Seven Bells."

"I don't care what the time is, bosun; it's got to be done, and that's the long and the short of it," retorted the commander sharply, flashing his eyes in a way that showed he was not to be put off when he had once made up his mind. "Maintop, there!"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the captain of the top, looking over the rail instantly and leaving off the work of fitting the upper standing rigging, on which he and his men were engaged when this vigorous hail reached the top, thundered out with all the power of the commander's lungs. "Want me down, sir?"

"Down? No, my man; but lower a whip at once for the sail burton, and you can lower the tops'l tye as well. I'm going to send up the yard at once!"

"Ay, ay, sir."

Prompt.i.tude begets like promptness.

Before you could say "Jack Robinson," the whip was down and the purchase in the top; then, the standing part of the tackle was made fast to the yard pendant and the spar swayed up, as the men walked away with the fall, which was rove through a s.n.a.t.c.hblock hooked on to a ringbolt fixed in the deck and led to the capstan.

Ere a quarter-of-an-hour had elapsed, the yard was slung and firmly secured, with the halliards and braces rigged in proper fashion.

In the middle of the operation, however, the attention of the hard-worked commander was called in another direction.

A fat, heavy, seafaring-looking man in a short pilot jacket came up to him as he was uttering rapid commands to the sailors aloft in stentorian accents from the p.o.o.p-rail.

"Beg pardon, sir," said this gentleman, whom I presently learnt was Mr Quadrant, the master, or navigating officer of the ship; one who used in the old days to have charge of all the material on board a man-of-war, just as the commander looks after the crew. "None of those stores, sir, have come off from the dockyard that were promised this morning, and all my hands are idle below. What am I to do, sir?"

"Send a boat at once to the storekeeper, to lodge a complaint."

"Yes, sir. But, there's only the jollyboat left, sir, now, besides the dinghy. All the others are ash.o.r.e."

"Well, send the jollyboat; and, I say, Mr Quadrant," added Commander Nesbitt as the master was waddling off down the companionway, "tell the midshipman who goes with the boat that if the things are not sent aboard at once, he is to make application at the Admiral's office, complaining of the delay. P'raps, though, you'd better go yourself, eh?"

"I will if you like, sir," sighed the master, who had already had too much exercise between decks and up and down the hatchways to feel enamoured of a walk ash.o.r.e over the rough cobblestones of the dockyard.

"But, I don't think they'll hurry any the more for me than they would for a middy, sir. He would be able, too, sir, to cheek the yard people all the better, sir."

"Just as you please, Mr Quadrant," returned the commander in a decided tone. "I should prefer, however, your going yourself to sending any other officer." This was equivalent to an order; and the master with a deep groan disappeared, only to make room for Mr Nipper, the purser.

This gentleman came across the gangway from the hulk--on board of which we were all berthed while our own ship was fitting out. He seemed in a great heat, as if something had put him out very much indeed, looking worried beyond endurance.

"Captain Nesbitt, sir," said he to the commander, touching his cap like the others, "what am I to do, sir?"

"I'm sure I can't say, Mr Nipper," rejoined the commander in an off-hand way, for he had just given the order to sway the yard aloft, and was watching whether the spar cleared the top and keeping a wary eye that it did not get foul of the mainstay, or something else aloft.

"What's the matter?"

"Those people at the victualling yard haven't sent our fresh beef yet aboard, sir," answered the purser, a thin, fussy little man, in a whining way, as if he were going to cry, "and there's nothing to serve out for the men's dinners--at least, not enough for all."