Chapter Twenty Nine.

Chapter Twenty Nine.Farewell.When at length I recovered my senses, I found myself in bed, in a small, light, airy room lighted by a couple of windows, the jalousies of which were so adjusted as to admit all the air possible, while at the same time the direct rays of the sun were excluded. The bed upon which I was lying was a tolerably roomy affair for one person, and the linen, though somewhat plain in quality, was fresh and scrupulously clean. The only other furniture in the room was a small table, well-stocked with medicine-phials, etcetera, and a couple of chairs, upon one of which—the one which stood next the head of the bed—sat a man in a white flannel shell-jacket and blue military trousers with a stripe of yellow braid down the seams.The room in which I found myself was evidently, from the size and position of the windows—one in the wall at the foot of the bed, and the other in the wall on my left—a corner room in some tolerably extensive building. Looking out between the lattices of the jalousies, which were adjusted in such a way that I was able to see distinctly the various objects outside, I perceived that the building was situated in the midst of a park or grove of magnificent cotton, kennip, and other trees, the branches of which were swaying and the leaves rustling cheerily in the strong sea-breeze which rushed through them. The sunlight flashed brilliantly upon the swaying foliage, and gleamed upon the plumage of the bright-winged birds and gaudy butterflies which flitted restlessly from tree to tree; while the long, luxuriant grass in the distance—where I could see it—bowed and undulated beneath the strong breeze like a billowy sea; the background of clear, pure, blue sky beyond completing a picture, the joyous freshness of which seemed almost heavenly to me in my extreme weakness. The air, too, was full of the chirping of millions of insects and lizards, the lowing of distant cattle, the bleat of sheep, the rifle-like crack of waggon-drivers’ whips, the voices and laughter of men close beneath my window, and a multitude of other joyous sounds.I lay for a long time drinking in with silent ecstasy these glorious sights and sounds which fell so soothingly upon my senses, quite forgetful of self and my past suffering, and utterly indifferent to everything but the sensuous pleasure of the moment. Indeed my poor head felt so light and weak that I seemed almost incapable of the exertion of thought.At length I turned my head toward the man in the chair by my bedside. He had a book in his hand, and his body was turned somewhat from me in order that the light might fall more fully upon the pages.“Where am I?” I murmured.The man turned quickly, and rising laid his book upon the chair, face downward, while he bent over me.“How do you find yourself now, sir?” he asked.“I don’t know,” I replied, scarcely realising the meaning of my own words. “Is there anything the matter?”“You’ve been very ill, sir, for a long time; but you seem a great deal better this morning. If you’ll excuse me for a minute, sir, I’ll send for the doctor.”The man quietly left the room, was absent for a minute or two, and then as quietly returned.“Where am I?” I again inquired.“You’re in the military hospital at Up-park camp, sir,” he replied. “But if you’ll excuse me, I think you’d better not talk much just yet; the doctor will be here directly, and he’ll tell you all you want to know.”Some twenty minutes elapsed, and then the door once more opened, admitting a rather tall handsome man dressed entirely in white nankeen, with white canvas shoes on his feet.He came up to the side of the bed, and, before saying a word, put his cool fingers upon my pulse. He then laid his hand upon my forehead for a minute or two and upon the top of my head.“Well, Mr Chester,” said he, “how do you feel? You are very much better this morning, are you not?”“I really don’t know,” I answered. “I don’t feel as though there is much the matter with me beyond weakness; my hands seem as though they were chained down to the bed, and I have very little feeling in my limbs; but beyond that I don’t think there is very much wrong. I suppose I have been ill, though. What has been the matter with me?”“Oh! quite a complication of disorders,” he returned lightly; “brain-fever among other things. Have you no recollection of falling ill?”“None whatever,” I said. “Stay, though—was it not something to do with a thunder-storm and—um—whatwas it?”“There, there; never mind now; it is all over and done with. Don’t try to recall the circumstances just now; your brain is still too weak to be much exercised; it will all come back in good time, never fear. Do you feel at all sleepy?”“Not so much sleepy as hungry,” I replied. “I feel as though I had not yet had my breakfast.”“Neither have you,” he returned with a laugh. “The fact is you were not awake at breakfast-time, and Atkins here had strict orders not to disturb you. However, it is not yet too late; I daresay we shall be able to find something for you. I will see to it myself; and when you have taken your breakfast, just try to get to sleep again. Sleep will now do you as much good as either food or medicine.”He then retired to the far end of the room, Atkins accompanying him; and after whispering to his subordinate for a minute, he turned, nodded encouragingly to me, and retired.When he was gone I endeavoured to get a little information out of Atkins, the attendant, but he briefly informed me that his orders not to talk to me were imperative, and begged that I would not ask him to transgress them.In a short time a basin of some kind of light broth, with a little bread crumbled into it, made its appearance, the whole of which I demolished, and soon afterwards fell into a sound sleep.I awoke again toward evening; was again visited by the doctor, and once more partook of a tolerably substantial basin of broth and bread. Just as the light was fading away, Atkins approached my bedside with something in a wine-glass which he invited me to swallow. I drank it off, made a wry face at its decidedly nauseous flavour, and soon afterwards fell asleep.The next day passed in a very similar manner, except that I remained awake longer during the day, and as I lay there enjoying the cool freshness of the breeze and looking out through the jalousies, the recollection of the events which attended and followed the destruction of the “Juanita” returned to my memory. From this time my progress toward recovery was rapid, and at the end of a week I was allowed to sit up, partially dressed, for an hour or two during the day.When I had reached this stage I was deemed strong enough to learn the full particulars of my illness; and I was horrified to find that I had been for nearly eight months completely out of my mind. It seemed that the raft had drifted before the wind until—missing Saint Domingo altogether—it had reached the Windward Channel, where it was fallen in with by the “Rattler” sloop-of-war; the skipper of which picked us up, and finding that we were still alive took the greatest care of us, cracking on until he reached Port Royal. Hawsepipe and the seaman had sufficiently recovered by that time to be able to narrate all the circumstances connected with the loss of the schooner; but I was delirious with brain-fever, and the admiral—who was inexpressibly shocked at the recital of our sufferings—immediately made arrangements for my removal to the camp-hospital, that being deemed the spot where I should be most likely to recover. I had been nursed and attended there with the utmost assiduity, and the brain-fever eventually left me; but it left me insane, in which dreadful condition I had remained for nearly eight months. The brain-fever and the insanity were both attributed—rightly, no doubt—to my frightful sufferings; and no effort had been spared to secure the restoration of my reason, which, by God’s mercy, had at length been achieved. I learned, further, that the “Astarte” was still upon the station, but was then at sea, having sailed upon another cruise afewdays only before my recovery. Captain Annesley had suffered greatly in mind through the long continuance of my affliction, and had spent hours by my side whenever the frigate happened to be in port, and had directed that no expense should be spared in the endeavour to secure my restoration to sanity.As soon as I was strong enough to be moved, I was placed in a grass hammock slung between two poles, and in that easy and agreeable mode of travelling was conveyed by negroes—who bore me four at a time, while another shaded me from the sun’s rays with a huge umbrella—to Mr Finnie’s country house; that most hospitable planter and his wife having insisted upon undertaking the task of once more nursing me back to health and strength.I remained with these kind-hearted friends over a month, and in that time managed to recover to a very great extent all that I had lost; but my head still remained unpleasantly weak; so that I could neither read nor write for more than half-an-hour a day. Doctor Musgrave, the head physician, who had looked after me during my long sojourn in the camp-hospital, and who still rode out to see me whenever he could spare the time—which, however, was not often—at length forbade me to touch either pen or book for at least six months, assuring me that my complete recovery depended entirely upon my scrupulous compliance with his injunctions, and very frequently and strongly urged upon me the desirability of my returning to England and retiring from the sea for a time. At length, seeing no other prospect of perfect restoration, I consented, and began leisurely to make my preparations for departure by the next packet.A few days after I had made up my mind upon this point, a ketureen rattled up to the front door of the house, and in another moment Captain Annesley rushed headlong and unannounced into the room in which I was seated chatting with my kind and gentle hostess, and seizing my hand began to shake it as though he would shake it off.“Ralph, old man,” he ejaculated excitedly, “howare you? Stand up, man, and let me look at you. Ah! there you are; but—you are as thin as a rake, and still rather shaky, apparently. Mydearmadam,prayexcuse me; upon my honour I never perceived you until this moment. I trust you are well, and your esteemed husband, also. Thank God, old fellow, I see you something like your old self once more.”The skipper rattled on until he was fairly out of breath, and then gradually subsided into his usual quiet and self-possessed manner. The “Astarte,” he told me, had arrived the previous day, and he had seized the first available moment to run out and see me, the admiral having acquainted him with the news of my recovery and removal. At the earnest invitation of my host and hostess he consented to remain over the night, his presence not being very particularly required on board the frigate until next day. In the course of the day I told him what Dr Musgrave had advised, and of the decision I had made to follow it.“Well,” said he, “if the doctor advises it, I have no doubt it will be best for you; still, it is a thousand pities, for I believe, if you could but hold on a little longer, we should all be able to go home together. I fancy it will not be very long before the frigate herself is ordered home.”He left next morning, after an early breakfast, promising to return again in a day or two, when, according to arrangement, I was to go back on board with him for a day and renew my acquaintance with my old shipmates.On the day but one following, he reappeared in almost as excited a state as before.“Hurrah!” he exclaimed, as he entered the room. “We are ordered to proceed home at once and payoff, so we can all go together. The frigate has had a very successful time of it while she has been out here; we shall go home with our pockets well lined; and I think I must seize upon the opportunity which the paying-off of the ship will afford, in order to get spliced. I should think Florrie will never have the heart to send me to sea a bachelor again, will she?”“Upon my word, sir, I don’t know,” I replied. “Girls are very curious in their notions sometimes, and occasionally require a great deal of persuasion to bring them up to the mark. However, your persuasive powers seemed to be pretty effective with my sister when you last tried them upon her; and, as in duty bound, I will of course do all I can to promote my captain’s success.”“Ah, you rogue,” rejoined he. “You are fast recovering, I see. There is not much the matter with a midshipman when he is able to fling a sly jest in the face of his captain. But—midshipman? My dear Ralph, you are no longer such. HowcouldI be so forgetful? Your commission has come out by the packet which arrived yesterday, and the admiral will hand it you the first time you call upon him. Now let me be the first to congratulate you, which I do most heartily.”We left the house together in the cool of the evening, driving down to the wharf in a ketureen which some friend had been ill-advised enough to lend the skipper, who was no great hand at the ribbons, and who narrowly missed capsizing the concern two or three times during the trip. The gig was waiting for us; and, jumping in, the sails were set, and we flew down the boat-channel with a spanking land breeze under the glorious light of a full moon.When we reached the ship, I found that my return on board had been made the occasion of a regular jollification; the skipper having invited the whole of the quarter-deck officers to meet me in the cabin at a late dinner and wet my commission.All the old faces were there, I was glad to see, including even that of Captain Flinn, whose ship, the “Artemise,” happened to be in port at the time, and little Fisher, who had recovered in a most marvellous manner from his dreadful wounds. There was a great deal of yarn-spinning, some capital singing, and a great deal of wine-drinking, too, on the part of one or two of the guests, notwithstanding which latter drawback we spent a very pleasant evening.On the following morning I waited upon the admiral and received my commission, the presentation of which he saw fit to accompany with a few complimentary as well as congratulatory remarks; and in the afternoon I drove out to Hurstleigh, as Mr Finnie had named his place, for the purpose of packing up my few traps and bidding my kindest of friends farewell. I remained there that night, joining the ship about twelve o’clock next day.Two days afterwards we sailed from Port Royal, about five o’clock a.m., and after a long but uneventful passage arrived safely home. We anchored at Spithead on the night of our arrival, and next day the ship was taken into harbour and paid off.When all was done, it was too late for a start for home that night; so the skipper—who had no relations belonging to him, and therefore intended to visit his dearie before going anywhere else—and I put up at the “George,” starting the first thing after breakfast next morning.I shall not attempt to describe the joy which our unexpected arrival produced; suffice it to say that the whole household, not excluding even my reverend father and my revered mother, behaved as though they had suddenly taken leave of their senses; and it was not until toward evening that anything approaching to calm settled down upon the party.Then, of course, I had to tell the story of my voyage upon the raft, and of the incidents which followed it; a mere outline only having been written home by the skipper, the circumstance of my insanity being altogether suppressed; and then, equally as a matter of course, there were tears and murmured expressions of tender pity and so on, all of which can be a great deal better imagined than described.Captain Annesley remained with us three days, at the end of which, after a hotly-contested action, Florrie hauled down her colours, and agreed that the wedding should take place on that day month. Then my uncle—or great-uncle rather—Sir Peregrine, came down to see me, our family physician expressing a decided opinion that the noise and bustle of town would be injurious to me, and I had to fight all my battles over again for his benefit.Then, as soon as they could be got together, an army of dressmakers and milliners was brought into the house, and Sir Peregrine and I were driven by them from room to room, until at length we were driven out of the house altogether; the building being, almost from basement to roof-tree, crowded with silks, muslins, ribbons, flowers, and every other imaginable species of frippery affected by the gentler sex.And very soon the wedding presents began to pour in; the carrier’s cart rumbling up to the rectory door daily and discharging parcels and packets, hampers, cases, crates, and goodness knows what; so that at length I began to dream at night that the rectory was an Indiaman taking in cargo, and that there was not stowage for it all.Then Sir Peregrine rushed off to town early one morning, without acquainting anybody with his intention, returning on the day but one following with his pockets crammed full of small parcels, which he conveyed with much secrecy up to his own room.It was then my turn; and accordingly away I went in the same unexpected manner—surprises and secrecy appearing to be the order of the day just then,—returning home in due time with my humble offering to the blooming bride.At length the eventful week arrived in which the wedding was to take place; and from early on the Monday morning—the wedding was fixed for Wednesday—all the young girls of the village seemed to have become possessed with the idea that our garden was public property, and passed in and out, helping themselves with the utmostsang-froidto what few early spring flowers there were, and as much greenery as they could carry—no one saying them nay. And I could not help noticing, as a somewhat unusual circumstance, that whenever I passed the noble old church its doors were sure to be open, and somebody passing in or out.Tuesday evening came, and with it came the impatient bridegroom. The rectory was by that time turned upside-down, inside-out, and goodness knows what else in the shape of confusion; so that, in sheer desperation, Sir Peregrine and I were at last driven to betake ourselves and poor Annesley—who had almost to be carried off by force, he having had no opportunity for anything more than a hasty word or two with Florrie—to the snug little inn where the skipper was to find quarters that night. My father looked longingly after us, as we retreated through the front door, but, poor man, he was a prisoner with hard labour that night, and there was no escape for him.By daybreak next morning the whole house was astir, and, oh! the babel of sound and confusion that reigned therein. I was to act the part of best man, and, as far as I could understand it, my principal duty seemed to be to fix myself to the groom like a sucking-fish, and never allow him to have a moment to himself, or the slightest particle of peace. He was more excited than I had ever before seen him, and between us we made such a flusteration in that otherwise quiet little hostelry as I imagine its inmates will never forget. It was arranged that we should breakfast together and afterwards go in the same carriage—a distance of two or three cable’s lengths at most—to church; and I have no reason to doubt that we carried out the arrangement; but neither of us is to this day prepared to swear, from our own recollection, that we did so.At length, however, we found ourselves somehow walking up the centre aisle of the church, without well knowing how we got there. The grand old fane was transmogrified into something between a forest and a flower-garden, and I then began, for the first time, to surmise where all our shrubs and flowers had betaken themselves; every pew was closely packed with quiet, well-dressed people; and the organ was pealing forth some grand old masterpiece which filled the church with melody.My father, in his robe as D.D., with his curate at hand to assist, stood within the altar-railing in readiness to commence the ceremony; while—but avast! what nautical pen can hope to adequately describe a wedding, with its blushing bride, its blooming bridesmaids, its flowers and tears and kisses and congratulations, and all the rest of it? Suffice it to say that Florrie looked lovely, that Annesley—after his first flusteration was over—never looked more quiet, self-possessed, and handsome than he did that morning; and that everybody pronounced it to be “a sweetly pretty wedding;” and there you have all I can tell you about it.The register signed, we weighed in succession, and all trundled home to the rectory, Annesley with his prize leading the van. And then there was, of course, the breakfast—of which I, for one, ate very little—and the speechifying afterwards, and what not; and then the happy couple retired for a time, appearing again in travelling attire; then there was the half-laughing, half-tearful “good-bye,” the descent of all hands in a body to the door, where Annesley’s handsome travelling-carriage and four stood in readiness; then more good-byes; and finally the departure, in the midst of a perfect storm of cheers and old shoes—all in regular order. After which the guests seemed to feel more at ease, and we ended all by having a regular jollification.The next few days were devoted to a general clearing up of the wreck and getting things back into their proper places again, after which the house settled down once more into its wonted peace and quietness, pretty much as though—except for the absence of one fair face from the family table—such things as weddings were unknown.And now, dear reader, my tale is told—my yarn is spun; and I have finished off in the orthodox form with a wedding, which seems to be the inevitable and only correct way in which a story can be brought to a symmetrical conclusion. Nothing remains but to say Farewell, which, believe me, I do with reluctance, sincerely hoping that an opportunity may yet occur for us to renew our acquaintance.Farewell.The End.

When at length I recovered my senses, I found myself in bed, in a small, light, airy room lighted by a couple of windows, the jalousies of which were so adjusted as to admit all the air possible, while at the same time the direct rays of the sun were excluded. The bed upon which I was lying was a tolerably roomy affair for one person, and the linen, though somewhat plain in quality, was fresh and scrupulously clean. The only other furniture in the room was a small table, well-stocked with medicine-phials, etcetera, and a couple of chairs, upon one of which—the one which stood next the head of the bed—sat a man in a white flannel shell-jacket and blue military trousers with a stripe of yellow braid down the seams.

The room in which I found myself was evidently, from the size and position of the windows—one in the wall at the foot of the bed, and the other in the wall on my left—a corner room in some tolerably extensive building. Looking out between the lattices of the jalousies, which were adjusted in such a way that I was able to see distinctly the various objects outside, I perceived that the building was situated in the midst of a park or grove of magnificent cotton, kennip, and other trees, the branches of which were swaying and the leaves rustling cheerily in the strong sea-breeze which rushed through them. The sunlight flashed brilliantly upon the swaying foliage, and gleamed upon the plumage of the bright-winged birds and gaudy butterflies which flitted restlessly from tree to tree; while the long, luxuriant grass in the distance—where I could see it—bowed and undulated beneath the strong breeze like a billowy sea; the background of clear, pure, blue sky beyond completing a picture, the joyous freshness of which seemed almost heavenly to me in my extreme weakness. The air, too, was full of the chirping of millions of insects and lizards, the lowing of distant cattle, the bleat of sheep, the rifle-like crack of waggon-drivers’ whips, the voices and laughter of men close beneath my window, and a multitude of other joyous sounds.

I lay for a long time drinking in with silent ecstasy these glorious sights and sounds which fell so soothingly upon my senses, quite forgetful of self and my past suffering, and utterly indifferent to everything but the sensuous pleasure of the moment. Indeed my poor head felt so light and weak that I seemed almost incapable of the exertion of thought.

At length I turned my head toward the man in the chair by my bedside. He had a book in his hand, and his body was turned somewhat from me in order that the light might fall more fully upon the pages.

“Where am I?” I murmured.

The man turned quickly, and rising laid his book upon the chair, face downward, while he bent over me.

“How do you find yourself now, sir?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied, scarcely realising the meaning of my own words. “Is there anything the matter?”

“You’ve been very ill, sir, for a long time; but you seem a great deal better this morning. If you’ll excuse me for a minute, sir, I’ll send for the doctor.”

The man quietly left the room, was absent for a minute or two, and then as quietly returned.

“Where am I?” I again inquired.

“You’re in the military hospital at Up-park camp, sir,” he replied. “But if you’ll excuse me, I think you’d better not talk much just yet; the doctor will be here directly, and he’ll tell you all you want to know.”

Some twenty minutes elapsed, and then the door once more opened, admitting a rather tall handsome man dressed entirely in white nankeen, with white canvas shoes on his feet.

He came up to the side of the bed, and, before saying a word, put his cool fingers upon my pulse. He then laid his hand upon my forehead for a minute or two and upon the top of my head.

“Well, Mr Chester,” said he, “how do you feel? You are very much better this morning, are you not?”

“I really don’t know,” I answered. “I don’t feel as though there is much the matter with me beyond weakness; my hands seem as though they were chained down to the bed, and I have very little feeling in my limbs; but beyond that I don’t think there is very much wrong. I suppose I have been ill, though. What has been the matter with me?”

“Oh! quite a complication of disorders,” he returned lightly; “brain-fever among other things. Have you no recollection of falling ill?”

“None whatever,” I said. “Stay, though—was it not something to do with a thunder-storm and—um—whatwas it?”

“There, there; never mind now; it is all over and done with. Don’t try to recall the circumstances just now; your brain is still too weak to be much exercised; it will all come back in good time, never fear. Do you feel at all sleepy?”

“Not so much sleepy as hungry,” I replied. “I feel as though I had not yet had my breakfast.”

“Neither have you,” he returned with a laugh. “The fact is you were not awake at breakfast-time, and Atkins here had strict orders not to disturb you. However, it is not yet too late; I daresay we shall be able to find something for you. I will see to it myself; and when you have taken your breakfast, just try to get to sleep again. Sleep will now do you as much good as either food or medicine.”

He then retired to the far end of the room, Atkins accompanying him; and after whispering to his subordinate for a minute, he turned, nodded encouragingly to me, and retired.

When he was gone I endeavoured to get a little information out of Atkins, the attendant, but he briefly informed me that his orders not to talk to me were imperative, and begged that I would not ask him to transgress them.

In a short time a basin of some kind of light broth, with a little bread crumbled into it, made its appearance, the whole of which I demolished, and soon afterwards fell into a sound sleep.

I awoke again toward evening; was again visited by the doctor, and once more partook of a tolerably substantial basin of broth and bread. Just as the light was fading away, Atkins approached my bedside with something in a wine-glass which he invited me to swallow. I drank it off, made a wry face at its decidedly nauseous flavour, and soon afterwards fell asleep.

The next day passed in a very similar manner, except that I remained awake longer during the day, and as I lay there enjoying the cool freshness of the breeze and looking out through the jalousies, the recollection of the events which attended and followed the destruction of the “Juanita” returned to my memory. From this time my progress toward recovery was rapid, and at the end of a week I was allowed to sit up, partially dressed, for an hour or two during the day.

When I had reached this stage I was deemed strong enough to learn the full particulars of my illness; and I was horrified to find that I had been for nearly eight months completely out of my mind. It seemed that the raft had drifted before the wind until—missing Saint Domingo altogether—it had reached the Windward Channel, where it was fallen in with by the “Rattler” sloop-of-war; the skipper of which picked us up, and finding that we were still alive took the greatest care of us, cracking on until he reached Port Royal. Hawsepipe and the seaman had sufficiently recovered by that time to be able to narrate all the circumstances connected with the loss of the schooner; but I was delirious with brain-fever, and the admiral—who was inexpressibly shocked at the recital of our sufferings—immediately made arrangements for my removal to the camp-hospital, that being deemed the spot where I should be most likely to recover. I had been nursed and attended there with the utmost assiduity, and the brain-fever eventually left me; but it left me insane, in which dreadful condition I had remained for nearly eight months. The brain-fever and the insanity were both attributed—rightly, no doubt—to my frightful sufferings; and no effort had been spared to secure the restoration of my reason, which, by God’s mercy, had at length been achieved. I learned, further, that the “Astarte” was still upon the station, but was then at sea, having sailed upon another cruise afewdays only before my recovery. Captain Annesley had suffered greatly in mind through the long continuance of my affliction, and had spent hours by my side whenever the frigate happened to be in port, and had directed that no expense should be spared in the endeavour to secure my restoration to sanity.

As soon as I was strong enough to be moved, I was placed in a grass hammock slung between two poles, and in that easy and agreeable mode of travelling was conveyed by negroes—who bore me four at a time, while another shaded me from the sun’s rays with a huge umbrella—to Mr Finnie’s country house; that most hospitable planter and his wife having insisted upon undertaking the task of once more nursing me back to health and strength.

I remained with these kind-hearted friends over a month, and in that time managed to recover to a very great extent all that I had lost; but my head still remained unpleasantly weak; so that I could neither read nor write for more than half-an-hour a day. Doctor Musgrave, the head physician, who had looked after me during my long sojourn in the camp-hospital, and who still rode out to see me whenever he could spare the time—which, however, was not often—at length forbade me to touch either pen or book for at least six months, assuring me that my complete recovery depended entirely upon my scrupulous compliance with his injunctions, and very frequently and strongly urged upon me the desirability of my returning to England and retiring from the sea for a time. At length, seeing no other prospect of perfect restoration, I consented, and began leisurely to make my preparations for departure by the next packet.

A few days after I had made up my mind upon this point, a ketureen rattled up to the front door of the house, and in another moment Captain Annesley rushed headlong and unannounced into the room in which I was seated chatting with my kind and gentle hostess, and seizing my hand began to shake it as though he would shake it off.

“Ralph, old man,” he ejaculated excitedly, “howare you? Stand up, man, and let me look at you. Ah! there you are; but—you are as thin as a rake, and still rather shaky, apparently. Mydearmadam,prayexcuse me; upon my honour I never perceived you until this moment. I trust you are well, and your esteemed husband, also. Thank God, old fellow, I see you something like your old self once more.”

The skipper rattled on until he was fairly out of breath, and then gradually subsided into his usual quiet and self-possessed manner. The “Astarte,” he told me, had arrived the previous day, and he had seized the first available moment to run out and see me, the admiral having acquainted him with the news of my recovery and removal. At the earnest invitation of my host and hostess he consented to remain over the night, his presence not being very particularly required on board the frigate until next day. In the course of the day I told him what Dr Musgrave had advised, and of the decision I had made to follow it.

“Well,” said he, “if the doctor advises it, I have no doubt it will be best for you; still, it is a thousand pities, for I believe, if you could but hold on a little longer, we should all be able to go home together. I fancy it will not be very long before the frigate herself is ordered home.”

He left next morning, after an early breakfast, promising to return again in a day or two, when, according to arrangement, I was to go back on board with him for a day and renew my acquaintance with my old shipmates.

On the day but one following, he reappeared in almost as excited a state as before.

“Hurrah!” he exclaimed, as he entered the room. “We are ordered to proceed home at once and payoff, so we can all go together. The frigate has had a very successful time of it while she has been out here; we shall go home with our pockets well lined; and I think I must seize upon the opportunity which the paying-off of the ship will afford, in order to get spliced. I should think Florrie will never have the heart to send me to sea a bachelor again, will she?”

“Upon my word, sir, I don’t know,” I replied. “Girls are very curious in their notions sometimes, and occasionally require a great deal of persuasion to bring them up to the mark. However, your persuasive powers seemed to be pretty effective with my sister when you last tried them upon her; and, as in duty bound, I will of course do all I can to promote my captain’s success.”

“Ah, you rogue,” rejoined he. “You are fast recovering, I see. There is not much the matter with a midshipman when he is able to fling a sly jest in the face of his captain. But—midshipman? My dear Ralph, you are no longer such. HowcouldI be so forgetful? Your commission has come out by the packet which arrived yesterday, and the admiral will hand it you the first time you call upon him. Now let me be the first to congratulate you, which I do most heartily.”

We left the house together in the cool of the evening, driving down to the wharf in a ketureen which some friend had been ill-advised enough to lend the skipper, who was no great hand at the ribbons, and who narrowly missed capsizing the concern two or three times during the trip. The gig was waiting for us; and, jumping in, the sails were set, and we flew down the boat-channel with a spanking land breeze under the glorious light of a full moon.

When we reached the ship, I found that my return on board had been made the occasion of a regular jollification; the skipper having invited the whole of the quarter-deck officers to meet me in the cabin at a late dinner and wet my commission.

All the old faces were there, I was glad to see, including even that of Captain Flinn, whose ship, the “Artemise,” happened to be in port at the time, and little Fisher, who had recovered in a most marvellous manner from his dreadful wounds. There was a great deal of yarn-spinning, some capital singing, and a great deal of wine-drinking, too, on the part of one or two of the guests, notwithstanding which latter drawback we spent a very pleasant evening.

On the following morning I waited upon the admiral and received my commission, the presentation of which he saw fit to accompany with a few complimentary as well as congratulatory remarks; and in the afternoon I drove out to Hurstleigh, as Mr Finnie had named his place, for the purpose of packing up my few traps and bidding my kindest of friends farewell. I remained there that night, joining the ship about twelve o’clock next day.

Two days afterwards we sailed from Port Royal, about five o’clock a.m., and after a long but uneventful passage arrived safely home. We anchored at Spithead on the night of our arrival, and next day the ship was taken into harbour and paid off.

When all was done, it was too late for a start for home that night; so the skipper—who had no relations belonging to him, and therefore intended to visit his dearie before going anywhere else—and I put up at the “George,” starting the first thing after breakfast next morning.

I shall not attempt to describe the joy which our unexpected arrival produced; suffice it to say that the whole household, not excluding even my reverend father and my revered mother, behaved as though they had suddenly taken leave of their senses; and it was not until toward evening that anything approaching to calm settled down upon the party.

Then, of course, I had to tell the story of my voyage upon the raft, and of the incidents which followed it; a mere outline only having been written home by the skipper, the circumstance of my insanity being altogether suppressed; and then, equally as a matter of course, there were tears and murmured expressions of tender pity and so on, all of which can be a great deal better imagined than described.

Captain Annesley remained with us three days, at the end of which, after a hotly-contested action, Florrie hauled down her colours, and agreed that the wedding should take place on that day month. Then my uncle—or great-uncle rather—Sir Peregrine, came down to see me, our family physician expressing a decided opinion that the noise and bustle of town would be injurious to me, and I had to fight all my battles over again for his benefit.

Then, as soon as they could be got together, an army of dressmakers and milliners was brought into the house, and Sir Peregrine and I were driven by them from room to room, until at length we were driven out of the house altogether; the building being, almost from basement to roof-tree, crowded with silks, muslins, ribbons, flowers, and every other imaginable species of frippery affected by the gentler sex.

And very soon the wedding presents began to pour in; the carrier’s cart rumbling up to the rectory door daily and discharging parcels and packets, hampers, cases, crates, and goodness knows what; so that at length I began to dream at night that the rectory was an Indiaman taking in cargo, and that there was not stowage for it all.

Then Sir Peregrine rushed off to town early one morning, without acquainting anybody with his intention, returning on the day but one following with his pockets crammed full of small parcels, which he conveyed with much secrecy up to his own room.

It was then my turn; and accordingly away I went in the same unexpected manner—surprises and secrecy appearing to be the order of the day just then,—returning home in due time with my humble offering to the blooming bride.

At length the eventful week arrived in which the wedding was to take place; and from early on the Monday morning—the wedding was fixed for Wednesday—all the young girls of the village seemed to have become possessed with the idea that our garden was public property, and passed in and out, helping themselves with the utmostsang-froidto what few early spring flowers there were, and as much greenery as they could carry—no one saying them nay. And I could not help noticing, as a somewhat unusual circumstance, that whenever I passed the noble old church its doors were sure to be open, and somebody passing in or out.

Tuesday evening came, and with it came the impatient bridegroom. The rectory was by that time turned upside-down, inside-out, and goodness knows what else in the shape of confusion; so that, in sheer desperation, Sir Peregrine and I were at last driven to betake ourselves and poor Annesley—who had almost to be carried off by force, he having had no opportunity for anything more than a hasty word or two with Florrie—to the snug little inn where the skipper was to find quarters that night. My father looked longingly after us, as we retreated through the front door, but, poor man, he was a prisoner with hard labour that night, and there was no escape for him.

By daybreak next morning the whole house was astir, and, oh! the babel of sound and confusion that reigned therein. I was to act the part of best man, and, as far as I could understand it, my principal duty seemed to be to fix myself to the groom like a sucking-fish, and never allow him to have a moment to himself, or the slightest particle of peace. He was more excited than I had ever before seen him, and between us we made such a flusteration in that otherwise quiet little hostelry as I imagine its inmates will never forget. It was arranged that we should breakfast together and afterwards go in the same carriage—a distance of two or three cable’s lengths at most—to church; and I have no reason to doubt that we carried out the arrangement; but neither of us is to this day prepared to swear, from our own recollection, that we did so.

At length, however, we found ourselves somehow walking up the centre aisle of the church, without well knowing how we got there. The grand old fane was transmogrified into something between a forest and a flower-garden, and I then began, for the first time, to surmise where all our shrubs and flowers had betaken themselves; every pew was closely packed with quiet, well-dressed people; and the organ was pealing forth some grand old masterpiece which filled the church with melody.

My father, in his robe as D.D., with his curate at hand to assist, stood within the altar-railing in readiness to commence the ceremony; while—but avast! what nautical pen can hope to adequately describe a wedding, with its blushing bride, its blooming bridesmaids, its flowers and tears and kisses and congratulations, and all the rest of it? Suffice it to say that Florrie looked lovely, that Annesley—after his first flusteration was over—never looked more quiet, self-possessed, and handsome than he did that morning; and that everybody pronounced it to be “a sweetly pretty wedding;” and there you have all I can tell you about it.

The register signed, we weighed in succession, and all trundled home to the rectory, Annesley with his prize leading the van. And then there was, of course, the breakfast—of which I, for one, ate very little—and the speechifying afterwards, and what not; and then the happy couple retired for a time, appearing again in travelling attire; then there was the half-laughing, half-tearful “good-bye,” the descent of all hands in a body to the door, where Annesley’s handsome travelling-carriage and four stood in readiness; then more good-byes; and finally the departure, in the midst of a perfect storm of cheers and old shoes—all in regular order. After which the guests seemed to feel more at ease, and we ended all by having a regular jollification.

The next few days were devoted to a general clearing up of the wreck and getting things back into their proper places again, after which the house settled down once more into its wonted peace and quietness, pretty much as though—except for the absence of one fair face from the family table—such things as weddings were unknown.

And now, dear reader, my tale is told—my yarn is spun; and I have finished off in the orthodox form with a wedding, which seems to be the inevitable and only correct way in which a story can be brought to a symmetrical conclusion. Nothing remains but to say Farewell, which, believe me, I do with reluctance, sincerely hoping that an opportunity may yet occur for us to renew our acquaintance.Farewell.

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