The Missing Merchantman | Page 7

of the sun the wind gave promise of freshening, which promise
was so far fulfilled that by noon the ship was skimming along at a pace
of over nine knots an hour, she being at the time just abreast of Calais.
The breeze still increasing, and the tide being again in their favour,
Cape Grisnez was passed little more than an hour later; and then,
running out from under the lee of the land, the swell of the channel
almost immediately began to make itself felt. The full strength of the
wind at the same time also became apparent, and the ship, now heeling
over sufficiently to send the water spouting up through the scupper-
holes with every lee-roll, increased her pace to a fair, honest ten knots,
steering "full and by." Captain Blyth was simply enchanted with the
performance of his new command, feeling fully convinced (though he
did not yet venture to give utterance to his conviction) that in her, that
hitherto invincible clipper, the Southern Cross, would at length
assuredly find she had met her match. By three o'clock Dungeness was
broad on the lee-bow; by four o'clock it was fairly abaft the beam; and
when the passengers went on deck after dinner they found the ship in
the act of weathering Beachy, though without very much room to spare,
the wind evincing an inclination to veer round from the westward. At
eight o'clock next morning, when Ned came on deck to keep the
forenoon watch, he saw that he was on familiar ground, the ship being
about midway between Saint Catherine's Point and Saint Alban's Head,
the high land at the east end of the Isle of Wight looming like a white
cloud on the horizon astern, or rather on the starboard quarter, whilst

Saint Alban's gleamed brilliantly in the bright sunlight on the starboard
bow. The ship was still close-hauled on the larboard tack and going
about six knots, the wind having headed her somewhat during the night
and fallen lighter. The weather was magnificent, and everybody was in
capital spirits. Captain Blyth was pleased because, though the ship was
not just then travelling at any great speed, he had at all events got half-
way down the channel; the passengers were pleased because they were
having such a splendid view of the coast--with the prospect of getting a
still better view later on in the day, as Ned informed them--and most
pleased of all was Ned himself, because he not only looked forward to
getting one more glimpse of dear old Weymouth itself, but also hoped
to be able to make his near vicinity known to his father.
Noon found the Flying Cloud abreast of Saint Alban's Head and within
half a mile of the shore; and, this bold promontory once rounded, all
hands found themselves face to face with that magnificent panorama of
rolling downs, smiling valleys, tiny strips of snow-white beach, and
lofty precipitous chalk-cliffs, which help to make the scenery of
Weymouth Bay one of the fairest prospects within the boundaries of
the British island.
The ship was reaching right down along the coast at a distance of little
more than two miles from the shore, and though it was now his watch
below, Ned undertook to point out the various objects of interest as
they crept into view, such as Warbarrow Bay, with Lulworth Castle
nestling among its surrounding trees; Lulworth Cove, with its bold,
rocky entrance; the noble natural archway of Durdle Door; the curious
Burning Cliff, and so on; and when they were off the latter he made
bold to ask Captain Blyth's permission to hoist the ship's colours,
explaining that he would like his father to see the vessel and to know
that he was so near at hand. Ned was a very great favourite with the
skipper; moreover, the latter and Ned's father were old friends. The
cheery answer given to this request, therefore, was:
"Yes, certainly, my lad; show our bunting by all means. We shall then
be reported as having passed, and the owners will be glad to learn that
we have crept so far on our way."

Armed with this permission Ned lost no time in getting out the flags
and hoisting them exactly as they were represented in the picture he
had sent to his father, and which he knew must be in the old
gentleman's possession by this time.
That afternoon old Mr Damerell and his daughter were, according to
their usual custom, on the Nothe, Eva with a piece of dainty
embroidery work wherewith to amuse herself, and her father with his
somewhat ancient but trusty telescope, without which, indeed, he was
scarcely ever seen out of doors. They had hardly reached the old
gentleman's favourite point of look-out when his quick