The Eagle Cliff | Page 5

could have grown into such a great long-legged fellow?" he said stepping back to take a more perfect look at his friend, who returned the compliment by asking who could have imagined that he would have turned into a Zambezian gorilla.
"Where'll I put it, sor?" demanded a voice of metallic bassness in the doorway.
"Down there--anywhere, Quin," said Jackman turning quickly; "and be off as fast as you can to see after that rifle and cartridges."
"Yes, sor," returned the owner of the bass voice, putting down a small portmanteau, straightening himself, touching his forehead with a military salute, and stalking away solemnly.
"I say, Giles, it's not often one comes across a zoological specimen like that. Where did you pick him up?" asked Mabberly.
"In the woods and forests of course," said Jackman, "where I have picked up everything of late--from salary to jungle fevers. He's an old soldier--also on sick-leave, though he does not look like it. He came originally from the west of Ireland, I believe; but there's little of the Irishman left, save the brogue and the honesty. He's a first-rate servant, if you know how to humour him, and, being a splendid cook, we shall find him useful."
"I hope so," said Mabberly, with a dubious look.
"Why, Bob, do you suppose I would have offered him as cook and steward if I had not felt sure of him?"
"Of course not; and I would not have accepted him if I had not felt sure of you, Giles, my boy; so come along and let's have something to eat."
"But you have not yet told me, Bob," said Jackman, while the three friends were discussing their meal, "what part of the world you intend to visit. Does your father give you leave to go wherever you please, and stay as long as you choose?"
"No; he limits me to the Western Isles."
"That's an indefinite limitation. D'you mean the isles of the Western Pacific?"
"No; only those of the west of Scotland. And, to tell you the truth, I have no settled or definite plan. Having got leave to use the yacht all the summer on condition that I don't leave our own shores, I have resolved to begin by running at once to the wildest and farthest away part of the kingdom, leaving circumstances to settle the rest."
"A circumstantial account of the matter, no doubt, yet rather vague. Have you a good crew?"
"Yes; two men and a boy, one of the men being skipper, and the nearest approach to a human machine you ever saw. He is a Highlander, a thorough seaman, hard as mahogany and about as dark, stiff as a poker, self-contained, silent, except when spoken to, and absolutely obedient."
"And we set sail to-morrow, early?" asked Barret.
"Yes; after seeing the morning papers," said Mabberly with a laugh.
This, of course, turned the conversation on the accident, much to the distress of Barret, who feared that the jovial, off-hand reckless man from the "woods and forests" would laugh at and quiz him more severely than his friend Bob. To his surprise and great satisfaction, however, he found that his fears were groundless, for Jackman listened to the account of the incident quite gravely, betrayed not the slightest tendency to laugh, or even smile; asked a good many questions in an interested tone, spoke encouragingly as to the probable result, and altogether showed himself to be a man of strong sympathy as well as high spirits.
Next morning found our three adventurers dropping down the Thames with the first of the ebb tide, and a slight breeze from the south-west; Mabberly and Jackman in the very small cabin looking after stores, guns, rods, etcetera; Barret anxiously scanning the columns of a newspaper; Quin and the skipper making each other's acquaintance with much of the suspicion observable in two bull-dogs who meet accidentally; the boy in the fore part of the vessel coiling ropes; and the remainder of the crew at the helm.
"Port! port! stiddy," growled the skipper.
"Port it is; steady," replied the steersman in a sing-song professional tone, as a huge steamer from the antipodes went slowly past, like a mighty leviathan of the deep.
"Is it to the north, south, east, or west we're bound for, captain?" asked Quin, with a voice like that of a conciliatory bassoon.
"I don't know where we're bound for," growled the skipper slowly. "Starboard a bit; stiddy!"
"Steady!" sang out the man at the tiller.
A few hours carried them into the German Ocean. Here Quin thought he would try again for a little information.
"Sure it's nor'-east we're steerin', captain," he remarked in a casual way.
"No, it's not," growled the skipper, very much through his nose; "she's headin' west."
"It's to somewhere that coorse will take us in the ind, no doubt, if we carry on?" suggested Quin, interrogatively.
"Ay; oot to sea," replied the skipper.
Quin