CHAPTER FOUR.
THE EMBARKATION JETTY--AND NIPPED IN THE BUD.
Bronzed faces under white helmets crowded the ports and bulwarks of thegreat white leviathan of the deep--the troop-ship _Orontes_--as shesteamed slowly and cautiously up to the embarkation jetty in Portsmouthharbour.
On the jetty itself a few anxious wives, mothers, and sisters stoodeagerly scanning the sea of faces, in the almost hopeless endeavour todistinguish those for which they sought. Yet ever and anon anexclamation on the jetty, and an answering wave of an arm on thetroop-ship, told that some at least of the anxious ones had beensuccessful in the search.
"Don't they look weather-beaten?" remarked Miles to his companion.
"Sure it's more like sun-dried they are," answered a voice at his side.Brown had gone to the shed to prepare his coffee and bread against thelanding of the troops, and a stout Irishwoman had taken his place.Close to her stood the two ladies from the Institute with baskets ontheir arms.
"You are right," returned Miles, with a smile; "they look like men whohave seen service. Is your husband among them?"
"Faix, I'd be sorprised if he _was_," returned the woman; "for I lefthim in owld Ireland, in the only landed property he iver held in thisworld--six futt by two, an' five deep. He's been in possession sixyears now, an' it wouldn't be aisy to drive him out o' that, anyhow.No, it's my son Terence I've come to look afther. Och! there he is!Look, look, that's him close by the funnel! Don't ye see 'im? Blissinson his good-lookin' face! Hooroo! Terence--Terence Flynn, don't yerecognise yer owld mother? Sure an' he does, though we haven't met fortin year. My! hasn't he got the hair on his lips too--an' his cheeksare like shoe-leather--my darlint!"
As the enthusiastic mother spoke in the tones of a public orator, therewas a general laugh among those who were nearest to her; but she wasforgotten immediately, for all were too deeply intent on their owninterests to pay much regard to each other just then.
The great vessel was slow in getting alongside and making fast to thejetty--slow at least in the estimation of the impatient--for althoughshe might leap and career grandly in wanton playfulness while on hernative billows, in port a careless touch from her ponderous sides wouldhave crushed part of the jetty into fragments. Miles therefore hadample time to look about him at the various groups around.
One young woman specially attracted his attention, for she stood apartfrom every one, and seemed scarcely able to stand because of weakness.She was young and good-looking. Her face, which was deadly pale,contrasted strongly with her glossy raven-black hair, and the characterof her dress denoted extreme poverty.
The ladies from the Institute had also observed this poor girl, and oneof them, going to her side, quietly addressed her. Miles, from theposition in which he stood, could not avoid overhearing what was said.
"Yes, Miss, I expect my husband," said the woman in answer to aquestion. "He's coming home on sick-leave. I had a letter from him agood while ago saying he was coming home in the _Orontes_."
"I hope you will find that the sea air has done him good," said thelady, in that tone of unobtrusive sympathy which is so powerfullyattractive,--especially to those who are in trouble. "A sea voyagefrequently has a wonderful effect in restoring invalids. What is hisname?"
"Martin--Fred Martin. He's a corporal now."
"You have not recognised him yet, I suppose?"
"Not yet, Miss," answered Mrs Martin, with an anxious look, andshivering slightly as she drew a thin worn shawl of many patches closerround her shoulders. "But he wouldn't expect me to meet him, you see,knowing that I'm so poor, and live far from Portsmouth. But I was soanxious, you see, Miss, that our kind Vicar gave me enough money to comedown."
"Where did you spend the night?" asked the lady, quickly.
The poor woman hesitated, and at last said she had spent the nightwalking about the streets.
"You see, Miss," she explained apologetically, "I didn't know a soul inthe town, and I couldn't a-bear to go into any o' the public-houses;besides, I had no money, for the journey down took nearly all of it."
"Oh, I am so sorry that you didn't know of our Institute," said thelady, with much sympathy in voice and look; "for we provideaccommodation for soldiers' wives who come, like you, to meet theirhusbands returning from abroad, and we charge little, or even nothing,if they are too poor to pay."
"Indeed, Miss! I wish I had known of it. But in the morning I had theluck to meet a policeman who directed me to a coffee-tavern in a placecalled Nobbs Lane--you'll not know it, Miss, for it's in a very poorpart o' the town--where I got a breakfast of as much hot pea-soup andbread as I could eat for three-ha'pence, an' had a good rest beside thefire too. They told me it was kept by a Miss Robinson. God bless herwhoever she is! for I do believe I should have been dead by now if Ihadn't got the rest and the breakfast."
The woman shivered again as she spoke, and drew the thin shawl stillcloser, for a sharp east wind was blowing over the jetty at the time.
"Come with me; you are cold. I know Nobbs Lane well. We have a shedand fire here on the jetty to shelter people while waiting. There, youneed not fear to miss your husband, for the men won't land for a longtime yet."
"May I follow you, madam?" said Miles, stepping forward and touching hiscap in what he supposed to be the deferential manner of a privatesoldier. "I am interested in your work, and would like to see the shedyou speak of."
The lady looked up quickly at the tall young soldier who thus addressedher.
"I saw you in the lobby of the Institute this morning, did I not?"
"You did, madam. I was waiting for a friend who is a frequenter of theInstitute. One of your own people brought me down here to see thearrival of the _Orontes_, and the coffee-shed; but I have lost him inthe crowd, and know not where the shed is."
"Here it is," returned the lady, pointing to an iron structure justbehind them. "You will find Mr Brown there busy with the coffee, andthat small shed beside it is the shelter-room. You are welcome toinspect all our buildings at any time."
So saying, the lady led Mrs Martin into the shed last referred to, andMiles followed her.
There was a small stove, in the solitary iron room of which the shedconsisted, which diffused a genial warmth around. Several soldiers'wives and female relatives were seated beside it, engaged in quietingrefractory infants, or fitting a few woollen garments on children ofvarious ages. These garments had been brought from the Institute,chiefly for the purpose of supplying the wives and children returningfrom warmer climes to England; and one of them, a thick knitted shawl,was immediately presented to Mrs Martin as a gift, and placed round hershoulders by the lady's own hands.
"You are _very_ kind, Miss," she said, an unbidden tear rolling down hercheek as she surveyed the garment and folded it over her breast.
"Have you any children?" asked the lady.
"None. We had one--a dear baby boy," answered the young wife sadly,"born after his father left England. God took him home when he was twoyears old. His father never saw him; but we shall all meet again," sheadded, brightly, "in the better land."
"Ah! it makes me glad to hear you say that God took him _home_. Onlythe spirit of Jesus could make you regard heaven as the home where youare all to meet again. Now I would advise you to sit here and keep warmtill I go and make inquiry about your husband. It is quite possible,you know, that he may be in the sick bay, and they won't let any one onboard till the vessel is made fast. You are quite sure, I suppose, thatit was the _Orontes_ in which your husband said he was coming?"
"Yes, quite sure."
The lady had asked the question because a vague fear possessed herregarding the cause of the soldier's not having been seen lookingeagerly over the side like the other men.
Hurrying from the shed, with her basket on her arm, she made for thegangway, which had just been placed in position. She was accompanied byher companion, also carrying her basket. Miles took the liberty offollowing them closely, but not obvio
usly, for he formed only one of astream of men and women who pushed on board the instant that permissionwas given.
While one of the ladies went in search of one of the chief officers, theother quietly and unobtrusively advanced among the returning warriors,and, opening her basket, drew therefrom and offered to each soldier anenvelope containing one or two booklets and texts, and a heartyinvitation to make free use of the Soldiers' Institute during their stayin Portsmouth.
A most bewildering scene was presented on the deck of that great whitevessel. There were hundreds of soldiers in her, returning home afterlonger or shorter absences in China, India, the Cape, and other far-awayparts of the earth. Some were stalwart and bronzed by the southern sun;others were gaunt, weak, and cadaverous, from the effect of sickness,exposure, or wounds; but all were more or less excited at having onceagain set eyes on Old England, and at the near prospect of once moreembracing wives, mothers, and sweethearts, and meeting with old friends.The continual noise of manly voices hailing, exclaiming, chaffing, orconversing, and the general babel of sounds is indescribable. To MilesMilton, who had never before even imagined anything of the sort, itseemed more like a vivid dream than a reality. He became so bewilderedwith trying to attend to everything at once that he lost sight of theshorter of the ladies, whom he was following, but, pushing ahead, soonfound her again in the midst of a group of old friends--though stillyoung soldiers--who had known the Institute before leaving for foreignservice, and were eagerly inquiring after the health of Miss Robinson,and Tufnell the manager, and others.
During his progress through this bustling scene, Miles observed that thesoldiers invariably received the gifts from the lady with respect, and,many of them, with hearty expressions of thanks, while a few stopped herto speak about the contents of the envelopes. So numerous were the menthat the work had to be done with business-like celerity, but thevisitor was experienced. While wasting no time in useless delay, shenever hurried her movements, or refused to stop and speak, or forced herway through the moving throng. Almost unobserved, save by the men whochanced to be next to her, she glided in and out amongst them like aspirit of light--which, in the highest sense, she was--intent on herbeneficent mission. Her sole aim was to save the men from thetremendous dangers that awaited them on landing in Portsmouth, and bringthem under Christian influence.
Those dangers may be imagined when it is told that soldiers returningfrom abroad are often in possession of large sums of money, and thatharpies of all kinds are eagerly waiting to plunder them on theirarrival. On one occasion a regiment came home, and in a few dayssquandered three thousand pounds in Portsmouth. Much more might be saidon this point, but enough has been indicated to move thoughtful minds--and our story waits.
Suddenly the attention of Miles, and every one near him, was attractedby the loud Hibernian yell of a female voice exclaiming--
"Oh, Terence, me darlin' son, here ye are; an' is it yersilf lookin'purtier a long way than the day ye left me; an' niver so much as ascratch on yer face for all the wars ye've bin in--bad luck to thim!"
Need we say that this was Mrs Flynn? In her anxiety to meet her sonshe had run against innumerable men and women, who remonstrated with hervariously, according to temperament, without, however, the slightesteffect. Her wild career was not checked until she had flung herselfinto the arms of a tall, stalwart trooper with drooping moustache, whowould have done credit to any nationality under the sun, and whoseenthusiasm at the happy meeting with his mother was almost asdemonstrative as her own, but more dignified.
Others there were, however, whose case was very different. One who camethere to meet the strong healthy man, to whom she had said good-bye atthe same spot several years before, received him back a worn and wastedinvalid, upright still with the martial air of discipline, but feeble,and with something like the stamp of death upon his brow. Another womanfound her son, strong indeed and healthy, as of yore, but with an emptysleeve where his right arm should have been--his days of warfare overbefore his earthly sun had reached the zenith!
Whilst Miles was taking note of these things, and moralising in spite ofhis distaste just then to that phase of mental occupation, the otherlady of the Institute appeared and spoke hurriedly to her companion.
"Go," she said, "tell Mrs Martin that her husband is _not_ on board the_Orontes_. Let Tufnell, if he is at the shed, or our missionary, takeher up to the Institute without delay. Let them take this note to MissRobinson at the same time."
The younger lady looked inquiringly at her companion, but the latterpushed on hurriedly and was soon lost in the crowd, so she went at onceon shore to obey her instructions.
Being thus left to look after himself, Miles went about gazing at thevaried, interesting, and curious scenes that the vessel presented. Noone took any notice of him, for he was only one soldier among hundreds,and so many people from the shore had been admitted by that time thatstrange faces attracted no attention.
We have referred chiefly to soldiers' friends, but these, after all,formed a small minority of the visitors, many of whom were tradesmen ofthe town--tailors, shoemakers, and vendors of fancy articles--who hadcome down with their wares to tempt the returning voyagers to part withtheir superfluous cash. Even in the midst of all the pushing andconfusion, one man was seen trying on a pair of boots; near to him was asailor, carefully inspecting a tailor's book of patterns with a view toshore-going clothes; while another, more prompt in action, was alreadybeing measured for a suit of the same.
Descending to the 'tween-decks, our hero found that the confusion andnoise there were naturally greater, the space being more limited and thenoise confined. There was the addition of bad air and disagreeablesmells here; and Miles could not help reflecting on the prospect beforehim of long voyages under cramped circumstances, in the midst of similarsurroundings. But, being young and enthusiastic, he whispered tohimself that he was not particular, and was ready to "rough it" in hiscountry's cause!
In a remarkably dark region to which he penetrated, he found himself inthe women's quarters, the disagreeables of which were increased by thecries of discontented children, and the yells of inconsolable infants--some of whom had first seen the light of this world in the sad twilightof 'tween-decks! Shrinking from that locality, Miles pursued hisinvestigations, and gradually became aware that sundry parrots and otherpets which the soldiers and sailors had brought home were adding theirnotes of discord to the chorus of sounds.
While he was looking at, and attempting to pat, a small monkey, whichreceived his advances with looks of astonished indignation, he becameconscious of the fact that a number of eyes were looking down on himthrough a crevice at the top of a partition close to his side.
"Who are these?" he asked of a sailor, who stood near him.
"Why, them are the long-term men."
"I suppose you mean prisoners?"
"Yes; that's about it," replied the tar. "Soldiers as has committedmurder--or suthin' o' that sort--an' got twenty year or more for all Iknows. The other fellers further on there, in chains, is short-termmen. Bin an' done suthin' or other not quite so bad, I suppose."
Miles advanced "further on," and found eight men seated on the deck andleaning against the bulkhead. If his attention had not been drawn tothem, he might have supposed they were merely resting, but a closerglance showed that they were all chained to an iron bar. They did notseem very different from the other men around them, save that they were,most of them, stern and silent.
A powerful feeling of compassion rose in our hero's breast as he lookedat these moral wrecks of humanity; for their characters and prospectswere ruined, though their physique was not much impaired. It seemed tohim such an awful home-coming, after, perhaps, long years of absence,thus, in the midst of all the bustle and joy of meetings and of pleasantanticipations, to be waiting there for the arrival of the prison-van,and looking forward to years of imprisonment instead of reunion withfriends and kindred.
At sight of them a thought sprang irresistibly
into our hero's mind,"This is the result of wrong-doing!"
His conscience was uncomfortably active and faithful that morning.Somehow it pointed out to him that wrong-doing was a long ladder; thatthe chained criminals before him had reached the foot; and that he stoodon the topmost rung. That was all the difference between them andhimself--a difference of degree, not of principle.
Pushing his way a little closer to these men, he found that his was notthe only heart that pitied them. His friend, the younger lady, wasthere speaking to them. He could not hear what she said, for the noisedrowned her voice; but her earnest, eager look and her gesticulationstold well enough that she was pointing them to the Saviour of sinners--with what effect, of course, he could not tell, but it was evident thatthe prisoners at least gave her their attention.
Leaving her thus engaged, Miles continued for a considerable time hisprogress through the ship. Afterwards he observed, by a movement amongthe men, that a detachment was about to land. Indeed he found that someof the soldiers had already landed, and were making their way to thecoffee-shed.
Following these quickly to the same place, he found that innumerablecups of hot coffee and solid slices of bread and butter were beingserved out as fast as they could be filled and cut. A large hole orwindow opened in the side of the shed, the shutter of which was hingedat the bottom, and when let down formed a convenient counter.
Behind this counter stood the two ubiquitous ladies of the Instituteacting the part of barmaids, as if to the manner born, and with the samebusiness-like, active, yet modest, ready-for-anything air which markedall their proceedings.
And truly their post was no sinecure. To supply the demands of hundredsof hungry and thirsty warriors was not child's-play. Inside the shed,Miles found his friend Brown busy with a mighty caldron of hot water,numerous packets of coffee, and immense quantities of sugar andpreserved milk. Brown was the fountain-head. The ladies were thedistributing pipes--if we may say so; and although the fountain producedcan after can of the coveted liquid with amazing rapidity, and with aprodigality of material that would have made the hair of a privatehousewife stand on end, it was barely possible to keep pace with thedemand.
At a large table one of the missionaries of the Institute cut up andbuttered loaves at a rate which gave the impression that he was aconjurer engaged in a species of sleight-of-hand. The butter, however,troubled him, for, the weather being cold, it was hard, and would notspread easily. To overcome this he put a pound or so of it on a platebeside the boiler-fire to soften. Unfortunately, he temporarily forgotit, and on afterwards going for it, found that it had been reduced to ayellow liquid. However, hungry soldiers, rejoicing in the fact ofhaving at last reached home, are not particular. Some of them,unaccustomed, no doubt, to be served by ladies, asked for their supplydeferentially, accepted it politely, and drank it with additionalappreciation.
"We want more, Brown," said one of the ladies, glancing back over hershoulder as she poured out the last drop from her large jug; "and morebuns and bread, please."
"Here you are, Miss," cried Brown, who was warm by that time in spite ofthe weather, as he bore his brimming and steaming pitcher to thewindow--or hole in the wall--and replenished the jugs. "The buns areall done, an' the bread won't hold out long, but I've sent for more; itwon't be long. I see we shall need several more brews," he added, as heturned again towards the inexhaustible boiler.
"Shall I assist you?" said Miles, stepping into the shed and seizing aloaf and a knife.
"Thank you. Go ahead," said Brown.
"Put another lump of butter near the fire," said the missionary to ourhero; "not too close. I melted the last lump altogether."
"A cup o' coffee for my Terence, an' wan for mesilf, my dear," exclaimeda loud voice outside.
There was no mistaking the speaker. Some of the men who crowded roundthe counter laughed, others partially choked, when the strapping Terencesaid in a hoarse whisper, "Whist, mother, be civil; don't ye see thatit's ladies, no less, is sarvin' of us?"
"Please, ma'am, can I 'ave some coffee?" asked a modest soldier's wife,who looked pale and weary after the long voyage, with three children tolook after.
A cup was promptly supplied, and three of the newly-arrived buns stoppedthe mouths of her clamorous offspring.
"Can ye give me a cup o' tea?" demanded another soldier's wife, who wasneither so polite nor so young as the previous applicant.
It is probable that the ladies did not observe the nature of her demand,else they would doubtless have explained that they had no tea, but a cupof coffee was silently handed to her.
"Ah! this is _real_ home-tea, this is," she said, smacking her lipsafter the first sip. "A mighty difference 'tween this an' what we'vebin used to in the ship."
"Yes, indeed," assented her companion. Whether it was tea she had beenaccustomed to drink on board the troop-ship we cannot tell, but probablyshe was correct as to the "mighty difference." It may be that thebeverages supplied in foreign lands had somewhat damaged the power ofdiscrimination as to matters of taste in these soldiers' wives. At allevents an incident which occurred about the same time justifies thisbelief.
"Mr Miles," said the missionary, pausing a moment to wipe his brow inthe midst of his labours, "will you fetch the butter now?"
Miles turned to obey with alacrity--with too much alacrity, indeed, forin his haste he knocked the plate over, and sent the lump of butter intothe last prepared "brew" of coffee!
"Hallo! I say!" exclaimed Brown, in consternation. "More coffee,Brown," demanded the ladies simultaneously, at that inauspicious moment.
"Yes, Miss, I--I'm coming--directly," cried Brown.
"Do be quick, please!"
"What's to be done?" said Brown, making futile endeavours to fish outthe slippery mass with the stirring-stick.
"Shove it down and stir it well about," suggested Miles.
Whether conscience was inoperative at that moment we know not, but Brownacted on the suggestion, and briskly amalgamated the butter with thecoffee, while the crowd at the port-hole politely but continuouslydemanded more.
"Don't be in a 'urry, Tom," cried a corporal, removing his pith helmetin order to run his fingers through his hair; "it's a 'eavenly state o'things now to what it was a few years ago, w'en we an' our poor wives'ad to sit 'ere for hours in the heat or cold, wet or dry, withoutshelter, or a morsel to eat, or a drop to drink, till we got away uptown to the grog-shops."
"Well, this _is_ civilisation at last!" remarked a handsome and heartyyoung fellow, who had apparently been ignorant of the treat in store forhim, and who sauntered up to the shed just as the butter-brew wasbeginning to be served out.
"Why, I declare, it's chocolate!" exclaimed one of the women, who hadbeen already served with a cup, and had resolved to "go in," as shesaid, for another pennyworth.
"So it is. My! ain't it nice?" said her companion, smacking her lips.
Whether the soldiers fell into the same mistake, or were too polite totake notice of it, we cannot tell, for they drank it without comment,and with evident satisfaction, like men of simple tastes and uncriticalminds.
We turn now to a very different scene.
In one of the private sitting-rooms of the Institute sat poor young MrsMartin, the very embodiment of blank despair. The terrible truth thather husband had died, and been buried at sea, had been gently andtenderly broken to her by Miss Robinson.
At first the poor girl could not--would not--believe it. Then, as thetruth gradually forced itself into her brain, she subsided into atearless, expressionless, state of quiescence that seemed to indicate amind unhinged. In this state she remained for some time, apparentlyunconscious of the kind words of Christian love that were addressed toher.
At last she seemed to rouse herself and gazed wildly round the room.
"Let me go," she said. "I will find him somewhere. Don't hinder me,please."
"But you cannot go anywhere till you have had food and rest, dearchild," said her sympath
etic comforter, laying her hand gently on thegirl's arm. "Come with me."
She sought to lead her away, but the girl shook her off.
"No," she exclaimed, starting up hastily, so that the mass of her darkhair fell loose upon her shoulders, contrasting forcibly with the deadwhiteness of her face and lips. "No. I cannot go with you. Fred willbe getting impatient. D'you think I'll ever believe it? Dead andburied in the sea? Never!"
Even while she spoke, the gasp in her voice, and the pressure of bothhands on her poor heart, told very plainly that the young widow didindeed believe it.
"Oh! may God Himself comfort you, dear child," said the lady, taking hersoftly by the hand. "Come--come with me."
Mrs Martin no longer refused. Her spirit, which had flashed up for amoment, seemed to collapse, and without another word of remonstrance shemeekly suffered herself to be guided to a private room, where she wasput to bed.
She never rose from that bed. Friendless, and without means, she wouldprobably have perished in the streets, or in one of the dens ofPortsmouth, had she not been led to this refuge. As it was, they nursedher there, and did all that human skill and Christian love could devise;but her heart was broken. Towards the end she told them, in a faintvoice, that her Fred had been stationed at Alexandria, and that whilethere he had been led to put his trust in the Saviour. She knew nothingof the details. All these, and much more, she had expected to hear fromhis own lips.
"But he will tell me all about it soon, thank God!" were the last wordsshe uttered as she turned her eyes gratefully on the loving strangerswho had found and cared for her in the dark day of her calamity.
Blue Lights: Hot Work in the Soudan Page 4