At last Uncle Ben returned. The last arrangements were made, the last adieus said, and one fine day the little party of four drove to the station to take train to Southampton, where the barque _Elizabeth_ was refitting. The girls waved their handkerchiefs gaily in response to the parting salutations of the villagers; but they fell very silent when their old friends were out of sight, and the Captain, looking straight before him, heard a sob or two on each side and behind. Like a wise man, he said nothing about the sadness of leaving the old home, but related some of his recent experiences in London.

"I met a fine old friend of mine, a missionary," he said. "He is stationed on one of the South Sea Islands, and hasn't been home for twenty years. A real good sort is Henry Corke. He has only been home a month, and yet he is going out almost at once. There's devotion for you, girls. I asked him if he'd like to come with us, offered him the attractions of refined female society----"

"That was enough to choke him off," interrupted Tommy. "I hate to be called a female."

"Well, perhaps it was a mistake not to say tomboy. Anyhow, Corke was in too much of a hurry to come with us; prefers one of those dirty clanking steamers. Mighty poor taste, I call it."

By the time they reached the station the girls had thrown off their despondency, and began to glow with excitement as they realized that they were actually entering upon a new life.

CHAPTER IV

ABOARD THE "ELIZABETH"

"Here we are!" cried Captain Barton, as the train ran into the dock station at Southampton. "Now mind you don't get run over."

"The idea!" said Tommy; "we have been here before, Uncle."

"So you have, my dear, but good advice is none the worse for being said twice."

They made their way across the metals, on which locomotives were hauling and pushing heavy goods wagons, and came to the quay where the _Elizabeth_ lay taking in cargo. She looked a mere dwarf beside a Castle Liner not far away; but she was bright with the glory of new paint, and Captain Barton gazed at her with an affectionate pride that he would never have felt for a steamship. They went on board. Mr.

Purvis, the Scots mate, gave the girls a shy greeting. They smiled at those of the crew whom they recognized, and a look of pained bewilderment settled on the face of one, Sandy Sam, when Tommy asked him if he had any more big gooseberries.

"Never mention the word to him," said the Captain anxiously, as they went below; "he's very sensitive, my dear."

"Ah! you're afraid your stories will be found out, you know you are,"

replied Tommy. "Oh! what a sweet little cabin."

The Captain had thrown open the door of the cabin which he had prepared for his nieces, next to the saloon. The girls looked in eagerly.

"How very nice!" said Elizabeth.

"I'm glad you like it, my dear," said the Captain. "I did my best, and Purvis was uncommon useful, too."

"A woman couldn't have managed better," said Mary.

"Well, you see, bachelor men like me and Purvis get into the way of making up for what we lose. We nearly forgot the looking-gla.s.s, though, not having any particular features ourselves to be proud of."

The cabin was very daintily got up. The woodwork was beautifully polished. There were two bunks on one side, one above the other, and a third on the opposite side, each with a spotless white bed-cover. On one wall hung a looking-gla.s.s; and a tiny wash-hand basin of polished zinc was fitted into a little alcove. There were hooks for hanging clothes on the part.i.tion. The clear s.p.a.ce between the sides was only two or three feet across.

"Where shall we put our trunk?" asked Elizabeth practically.

"In the saloon, my dear," replied her uncle. "We'll fasten it there, to prevent it rolling about if we meet any rough weather."

"We shall have to get up one at a time," said Tommy, with a laugh.

"There isn't room for two to do up their hair at once."

"Well, I know nothing about that," said the Captain, rubbing his bald crown. "You mustn't quarrel or fight about who shall be first, or I'll have to clap you in irons."

"Where do you keep your irons?" asked Tommy. "I'd like to see the dreadful things."

The Captain looked so much embarra.s.sed that Tommy divined the truth at once.

"Why, you haven't got any," she cried, dancing. "What a naughty old fibber you are!"

"Well, you see, I pick my crew. Them that aren't English are Scotch or Irish, and very respectable men. But I dare say we can get a set of irons in the town. Come along, we'll go and get something to eat; we're too busy to cook on board. I'll just drop in at one of the marine stores and see if they've got a small size of irons for obstreperous females."

As they walked up the High Street Tommy suddenly cried--

"Look, Bess, isn't that little Dan Whiddon? I wondered why he wasn't at the station to wish us good-bye."

She pointed up the street, where she had seen a small oddly-dressed figure pa.s.s under the narrow ancient arch that divides the street into Above and Below Bar. They hurried in that direction, but when they reached the spot the figure had disappeared.

"I think you must have been mistaken," said Mary. "Dan wouldn't come so far from home."

"I dare say. Now, Uncle, where shall we go? I'm famished."

The Captain led them to the Crown Hotel. He confessed that if he had been alone he would have gone to a humbler place near the docks, where he might meet some shipmates.

"But you girls wouldn't like to eat among half-a-dozen sea-dogs smoking s.h.a.g," he said.

As they ate their luncheon he said that he was disappointed with his cargo. He had hoped to have a full ship for the South American ports, but feared that after all he would have to go out light. Tommy's a.s.surance that his pa.s.sengers would make up did not appear to convince him.

They slept on board that night, and were very merry at the novel experience of undressing and dressing in such a narrow s.p.a.ce. Early next morning the ship was towed out into the harbour. She had hardly made a cable's length, however, when the Captain received a message semaph.o.r.ed from the quay to the effect that his agent had secured enough goods to complete his freight. It would not be ready for shipment for two days. He did not think it worth while to put back into dock, as the extra cargo could be brought out in lighters.

During the next two days the girls were much amused to see their uncle in his little dinghy, which held three at a squeeze, going to and fro between the ship and the sh.o.r.e, propelling himself by means of one oar fixed in a groove at the stern. Nothing would satisfy them until he allowed one of the sailors, usually Sunny Pat, to take them in turn and teach them how to work the little tub in this manner. Finding it very easy Tommy begged the Captain to let her take him ash.o.r.e, and was delighted when he told her on landing that she would make a skipper in no time. She immediately bought a huge sailor's knife, much to his amus.e.m.e.nt. Her sisters, not to be outdone, in their turn rowed him ash.o.r.e, and each also bought a knife.

"You'd be terrible folk in a mutiny," said the Captain, laughing. "I really must see about getting those irons."

But when the vessel's hold was filled from the lighters, and the cargo was complete, there were no irons among the equipment. The _Elizabeth_ was towed down Southampton Water; then, the wind being fair, the courses were set, and she was soon sailing merrily down Channel. The girls were in the highest spirits. It was a glorious day. The sea glistened in the sunlight, and as the vessel pa.s.sed through the Solent, with the wooded sh.o.r.es of Hampshire on the right, and the Island on the left, the Captain pointed out to his nieces various landmarks and interesting spots, and gave them a first lesson in navigation. In three or four hours they pa.s.sed the Needles.

"Now, girls," said the Captain, "my advice is, keep fairly quiet for a little. There's a bit of a swell, and--well, I say no more."

Elizabeth and Mary remained reclining in their deck-chairs, quietly enjoying their novel experiences. But Tommy was as nimble as Ariel on the vessel of the Duke of Milan. She was here, there and everywhere, asking why this and what the other; now exclaiming at a warship that glided silently past, now watching a graceful white-sailed yacht; at one moment standing by the helmsman, then flashing along the deck to ask her uncle for an explanation of something that had caught her attention. The Captain watched her with kindly amus.e.m.e.nt. He did not repeat his warning. "The la.s.s had better get it over," he thought.

Presently his amus.e.m.e.nt became mixed with a little anxiety as he saw her growing quieter, and a tinge of green coming into her complexion.

At last with a sudden cry of "Oh!" she rushed to the companion and disappeared. The other girls followed her anxiously, and for a time they were seen no more. Thanks to the steadiness of the ship, and the comparative smoothness of the sea, their sufferings were neither violent nor prolonged; but it was a much-subdued Tommy who emerged an hour or two later and meekly put her hand into her uncle's.

The next moment she gave a gasp. Not a yard away, lying on a pile of canvas, huddled a little figure in brown corduroys and clumping boots.

It was Dan Whiddon, pale, grimy, with tear-stained eyes, fast asleep.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "LYING ON A PILE OF CANVAS HUDDLED A LITTLE FIGURE."]

"There's a young Samson for you!" said the Captain, noticing Tommy's look of amazement. "A young rascal of a stowaway. Long Jimmy heard a tapping in the forehold a while ago, and when the men opened up--a nuisance when all the cargo was nattily stowed--there was this young reprobate, half dead with hunger and fright. You've a deal to answer for, Tommy."

"Why, what have I done?" asked the girl.