The Missing Merchantman | Page 6

fact, of
whom it is impossible to predict whether they will, in case of
emergency, turn out to be heroes or mere useless incumbrances.
The ladies were very much more interesting. Mrs Henderson was a
very handsome, dark-eyed young matron of medium height, and a
temper as perfect as her form; in short, a very charming person
altogether. Miss Stanhope bore a very marked resemblance to her sister,
except that she was much younger, being barely eighteen years of age;
but there were not wanting indications that her charms would one day
even surpass those of the lovely Mrs Henderson Mrs Gaunt was a petite
blonde, very pretty and engaging, and an excellent foil to Mrs
Henderson, the two ladies being of exactly opposite types of beauty. Of
the children no more need be said than that they were light-hearted,
joyous, and just well-behaved enough to show that their parents did not
intend to spoil them if it could possibly be helped.
The first act of the saloon passengers, on reaching the deck, was to
inquire for their respective cabins, of which they at once took
possession, and forthwith set about arranging in such manner as they
judged would prove most convenient during the long journey they had
before them. The trunks uncorded, and the heavier work done, the
gentlemen had it gently insinuated to them by their fair partners that
they were rather in the way than otherwise; and they accordingly
adjourned to the poop with the youngsters, where, over a cigar, they
soon made acquaintance with each other and with the ship's officers.
By luncheon-time they had mutually arrived at the conclusion that they
were likely to get on exceedingly well together, that the captain was a

capital fellow, the mates but so-so, the midshipmen very gentlemanly
lads, and the ship everything that could be wished; and that, on the
whole, they were justified in expecting the passage to be as pleasant as
it was likely to prove long. The ladies, meanwhile, had been busy
below, and had found time not only to convert their somewhat cramped
quarters into perfect bowers of comfort and convenience, but also to
follow the gentlemen's example, by cultivating mutually friendly
relations; so that when the little party sat down to luncheon they felt
almost as much at home with each other as though they had been
acquainted for the best part of their lives, instead of for a few hours
only.
CHAPTER TWO.
ON BOARD THE "FLYING CLOUD."
The weather was gloriously fine; much too fine, indeed, to suit Captain
Blyth, for, as he and his friend Captain Spence had foreseen, the
easterly breeze which had prevailed for so long had at length died
completely away, leaving the surface of the river as smooth as a sheet
of polished silver. The air had grown much warmer, a sure precursor of
a southerly wind; and the ladies had, in consequence, changed their
dresses immediately after luncheon, discarding the woollen fabrics in
which they had embarked and substituting for them dainty costumes of
cool, light, flimsy material, arrayed in which they established
themselves for the afternoon on the poop.
It was somewhat late that night when the Flying Cloud rounded the
North Foreland; and, as Captain Blyth had feared, the little breeze
which had sprung up with the setting of the sun was all out from the
southward. There was, however, a capital moon, almost full; the tide,
too, was in their favour. So, instead of anchoring in the Downs until
next day, as had been his first intention, he determined to keep on; and
all sail was accordingly made upon the ship as soon as the tug had cast
off the tow-rope. A stretch was made across the channel towards the
French coast, in the direction of Gravelines; and great was the
satisfaction of all hands when they found that the ship, on a taut

bowline, and with only wind enough to heel her some six inches under
every stitch of plain sail they could set upon her, was slipping along
through the water at the rate of fully five knots, and that, too, so cleanly
that the ripple under the bows was inaudible to the men on the
forecastle unless they put their heads over the side and listened for it,
whilst scarcely a whirl or a bubble was to be seen in the long smooth
wake which she left behind her.
The breeze continued scant all night, notwithstanding which the Flying
Cloud was, at eight o'clock next morning, as close to the French coast
as Captain Blyth cared to take her, and she was accordingly hove about,
the wind so far favouring her that it was confidently hoped she would
weather Beachy Head and so pass out clear of everything. With the
rising