Adrift in a Boat | Page 2

before their eyes.
"This is jolly, don't you think so, Mary?" exclaimed a fine boy of about
fourteen to a pretty little girl who sat next to him; "there is only one
thing wanting to make it perfect--Harry Merryweather ought to be here.
He wrote word that he expected to be with us this morning, and I told
him where the picnic was to take place, that should he be too late to get
home, he might come here direct. Oh, he is such a capital fellow, and
now that he is in the navy, and has actually been in a battle, he will
have so much to tell us about."
Mary Rymer fully agreed with David Moreton, for Harry was a
favourite with every one who knew him. Although Harry Merryweather
had not arrived for the picnic, his friends appeared to be enjoying
themselves very much, judging by the smiles and giggling and the
chattering, and the occasional shouts of laughter which arose when old

Mr Tom Sowton, and florid, fat Mr Billy Burnaby, uttered some of
their jokes. Not that they were the only people who uttered good things,
but they were professed jokers, and seemed to consider it their duty to
make people merry; Mr Burnaby, indeed, if he could not make people
laugh at what he said, made them laugh at what he did.
The party had come from various quarters in the neighbourhood, some
from a distance inland, in carriages, and two or three families who lived
on or near the coast, in two pretty yachts, which lay at anchor in the bay.
One of them belonged to Mr Moreton, David's father, and the other to
Captain Rymer, with whose family David was as much at home as with
his own; and he and his sisters looked upon Mary, Captain Rymer's
daughter, quite in the light of a sister. She was, indeed, a very charming
little girl, well worthy of their affections. The first course of the picnic
was concluded--that is to say, the chickens, and hams, and pies, and
cold beef, and tongues, and a few other substantials were pushed back;
the potatoes, which had been boiled in salt water, having been
pronounced excellent. The tarts and cakes and fruit, peaches and figs
and grapes, were brought to the front, and underwent the admiration
they deserved, when suddenly David Moreton, looking up, raised a
loud shout, and, jumping to his feet, clapped his hands and waved them
vehemently. The shout was echoed in different keys by many others,
and all turning their eyes in the direction David was pointing, they saw,
on the top of the cliff a boy, on whose jacket and cap the glitter of a
little gold lace and his snow-white trousers proclaimed him to be that
hero in embryo, a midshipman. Having looked about him for a few
seconds, he began to descend the cliff at so seemingly breakneck a
speed, that several of the ladies shrieked out to him to take care, and
Mary Rymer turned somewhat pale and stood looking anxiously as the
young sailor dropped from one point of rock to another, or slid down a
steep incline, or swung himself by the branches of shrubs or tufts of
grass to the ledge below him, and ran along it as if it had been a broad
highway, though a false step might have proved his destruction. Once
he stopped. To go back was impossible, and to attempt to descend
seemed almost certain destruction. Mr Sowton and Billy Burnaby
jumped up, almost dragging away the tablecloth, upsetting tarts, and
fruit-dishes, and bottles of wine, and all the other things, when Harry

gave a tremendous spring to a ledge which his sharp eye had detected,
and was in a few seconds afterwards standing safe on the sands and
shaking hands warmly with everybody present. When he came to Mr
Tom Sowton and Billy Burnaby, it might have been supposed from the
way in which they wrung each other's hands, that there was a wager
pending as to which should first twist off his friend's fist.
"Fortunately, we haven't eaten up all the good things, Harry,"
exclaimed Mr Sowton, dragging the midshipman, nothing loth, to the
well-spread cloth. "Now open your mouth, and Burnaby and I will try
and feed you. What will you have first,--beef, or pudding, or a peach,
or a tongue, or a cold chicken? Oh dear me, there is but a drumstick and
a merrythought left. Which will you have? No! I see I am wrong again,
the drumstick is in the dish, and the merrythought is in my head, with
numerous companions. Does anybody wish to know what they are? I'll
fill my naval friend's plate first with cold beef and mustard, and then
inform you." Thus