Bob Strongs Holidays | Page 8

of downs came in sight, curving away in horse-shoe fashion from right to left, on which were a series of red-brick, detached structures, placed along the topmost ridge at equal intervals apparently, until they were lost in the distance.
As they approached these nearer, Miss Nellie's sharp eyes noticed that on the landward side these brick piles were covered with a slant of smoothly-shaven green turf that contrasted conspicuously with the chalky surface of the sloping ridge.
"What funny things those are!" said she, pointing these out to Bob. "Are they houses, or tombs, or what?"
"Where, what do you mean?" asked the Captain, turning round from his contemplation of Dick, who, having finished the packet of sandwiches, was now carefully searching the piece of newspaper in which they had been wrapped up on the chance of there being a few stray crumbs left. "Why, hullo, here we are close to our destination! Those `funny things,' as you style them, missy, are the Portsdown forts--you are not far out though, in your estimate of their appearance, for they're called `Palmerston's Follies' by the political wags here."
"Are we near Portsmouth then?" said Nellie, peering out anxiously. "I don't see anything!"
"Oh yes, missy, quite near," replied the Captain, also looking out of the window. "There's Havant just in front. Don't you smell the sea?"
"Yes, Captain, yes, I do! Yes, I do!" cried Bob and Nellie together, clapping their hands. "Isn't it nice! Isn't it jolly!"--Bob, it may be taken for granted, using the latter term of approbation; Nellie adding on her own private account another, "Ah, how nice!"
"Well, that's a matter of opinion," said Captain Dresser dryly, his experiences of the fickle element not having, perhaps, always been pleasant ones; but, before he could explain this, the train, with a piercing shriek of warning from the steam-whistle of the engine, glided into the station.
"Hav-'nt! Hav-'nt!" shouted the porters with lungs of brass and voices of leather or gutta-percha. "Hav-'nt! Hav-'nt!"
"That's just what this boy will say when the guard asks him presently for his ticket, or the money for his fare," said the Captain, with his comical chuckle and merry twinkle of his bird-like eyes, pointing to Dick as the ticket-collector banged open the door of the carriage as if trying to wrench it off its hinges and held out his hand. "He haven't got his ticket. Hav-n't, you see, my dears! Ha--ha--ha!"
CHAPTER THREE.
ROVER DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
The ticket-collector appeared puzzled for the moment, especially on noticing a poor, ragged fellow like Dick travelling in a first-class compartment "in company with gentlefolks," as he thought to himself; but, at the instant this reflection passed through his mind, he recognised the Captain as an old and regular passenger on the line, besides being one from whom he had received many a `tip,' so he at once touched his cap, responding with a grin of sympathy to the Captain's cheery laugh, as if he thoroughly entered into the joke.
"Oh, haven't he, sir?" said he, the ungrammatical phrase dropping more naturally from his rustic tongue; "then he'll have to get 'un sharp, or pay the fare, sir."
"Never mind about that, my man, I'll pay for his ticket, for he's travelling with me," replied the old sailor as he fumbled in his pockets, shoving his hand first in one and then in the other; producing, at last, a number of gold and silver coins, mixed up with coppers, a bunch of keys, a clasp-knife, and his snuff-box, which somehow or other he had put back in the wrong place. "How much is it?"
"Where from, sir?" inquired the man, reaching out his hand for Bob and Nellie's tickets. "Far up the line, sir?"
"No, only from Guildford," replied the Captain. "That's only half-way from London; but there's half-a-sovereign, and you may keep the change for yourself."
"Thank you, sir," said the collector, touching his cap again and taking the coin. He still lingered, however, as if wanting something more but hesitated to ask for it.
"Well?" ejaculated the Captain impatiently. "What is it, my man?"
"Your ticket, sir," said the man deferentially. "You forgot to give it me, sir."
"Zounds!" cried the other, blinking away furiously and moving his eyebrows up and down as he searched vainly in all his pockets, finally discovering that he held the missing ticket in his fist all the while! "I declare I forgot all about it. You see I was ready for you, though, eh?"
"All right, sir, good-day," said the man, receiving the ticket and shutting the carriage-door gently, with a bow and a smile and another touch of his cap; and, the next moment, with another sharp unearthly shriek of the steam-whistle similar to that which had heralded its entrance into Havant station, the train, giving a joggle and a jerk as it got under way, was speeding along again,