"What! don't you know me?" I asked. "No," she answered; "who are you?"

"Jack--your brother Jack," I answered. On this she ran off into the drawing-room, and I heard her exclaim, "There's a great big beggar boy, and he says he is Jack--our brother Jack."

"Oh no, that cannot be!" I heard one of my other sisters reply. "Poor Jack was drowned long ago in the _Naiad_."

"No, he was not," I couldn't help exclaiming; and without more ado I ran forward.

My appearance created no small commotion among three or four young ladies who were seated in the room. "Go away; how dare you venture in here?" exclaimed one or two of them.

"Will you not believe me?" I cried. "I am Jack, I a.s.sure you, and I hope soon to convince you of the fact."

"It is Jack, I know it is!" exclaimed one of them, jumping up and coming forward. I knew her in an instant to be Grace Goldie, though grown almost into a young woman. "It is Jack, I am sure it is," she added, taking my hand and leading me forward. "Oh, how strange that you do not know him!"

My sisters now came about me, examining me with surprised looks. "How strange, Grace," said one; "surely you must be mistaken?"

"No, I am sure I am not," answered Grace, looking into my face, and putting back the hair from my forehead; "Are you not Jack?"

"Yes, I believe I am," I answered, "though if you did not say so I should begin to doubt the fact, since Ann, and Mary, and Jane, do not seem to know me."

"Well, I do believe it is Jack," cried Jane, coming up and taking my other hand, though I was so dirty that she did not, I fancy, like to kiss me. "So he is--he must be!" cried the others; and now, in spite of my tattered dress, their sisterly affection got the better of all other considerations, and they threw their arms about me like kind girls as they really were, and I returned their salutes, in which Grace Goldie came in for a share, with long unaccustomed tears in my eyes. Just then a shriek of astonishment was heard, and there stood Aunt Martha at the door. "Who have you got there?" she exclaimed. "It's Jack come back,"

answered my sisters and Grace in chorus. "Jack come back! impossible!"

cried out Aunt Martha, in what I thought sounded a tone of dismay.

"Yes, I am Jack, I a.s.sure you," I said, going up to her; "and I hope to be your very dutiful and affectionate nephew, whatever you may once have thought me;" and I took her hand and raised it to my lips. "If you are Jack I am glad to see you," she said, her feelings softening; "and it will at all events be a comfort to your poor mother to know that you are not drowned."

"My mother! where is she?" I asked. "I trust she is not ill."

"Yes, she is, I am sorry to say, and up-stairs in bed," replied my aunt; "but I'll go and break the news to her, lest the sound of all this hubbub should reach her ears, and make her inquire what is the matter."

I had now time to ask about the rest of my family. My father was out, but was soon expected home, and in the meantime, while Aunt Martha had gone to tell my mother, by my sisters' advice I went into the bedroom of one of my brothers, and washed, and dressed myself in his clothes. By the time Aunt Martha came to look for me I was in a more presentable condition than when I entered the house.

I need not dwell on my interview with my mother. She had no doubts about my ident.i.ty, but drawing me to her, kissed me again and again, as most mothers would do, I suspect, under similar circ.u.mstances. She was unwilling to let me go, but at length Aunt Martha, suggesting that I might be hungry, a fact that I could not deny, as I was almost ravenous, I quickly joined the merry party round the tea-table, when I astonished them not a little by the number of slices of ham and bread which I shortly devoured. My father soon arrived. He was not much given to sentiment, but he wrung my hand warmly, and his mind was evidently greatly relieved on finding that his plan for breaking me of my desire for a sea life had not ended by consigning me to a watery grave. He was considerably astonished, and evidently highly pleased, when I put into his hands the box and case which old Tom had given into my care; and I told him how I had fallen in, on board the _Naiad_, with the boy I fully believed to be Mr Clement Leslie's heir.

"This is indeed strange," he muttered, "very strange, and we must do our best to find him out Jack. It's a handsome estate, and it will be a pity if the young fellow is not alive to enjoy it. I must set Simon Munch to work at once."

"Perhaps if the Russian frigate has returned home, we may learn from her officers what has become of him," I suggested. "We will think the matter over. Would you like a trip to Russia, Jack?"

"Above all things, sir," I answered. "I could start to-morrow if it were necessary;" though I confess I felt very unwilling to run away again so soon from home, especially as my mother was so ill. Perhaps, also, Grace Goldie entered somewhat into my considerations.

Next morning while we were at breakfast, and my father was looking over the newspaper, he exclaimed, "We are in luck, Jack! Did you not say that the name of the Russian frigate which picked you up was the _Alexander_? I see that she has just arrived at Spithead, from China and the Western Pacific. If so, there is not a moment to be lost, for she will probably be off again in a few days. You must start at once.

Get your sisters to pack up such of your brother's things as will fit you, and I'll order a post-chaise to the door immediately."

"I shall be ready, sir, directly I have swallowed another egg or two, and a few more slices of toast," I answered. "Munch must go with you, that there may be no mistake about the matter," said my father. "He will be of great a.s.sistance."

All seemed like a dream. In a quarter of an hour I was rattling away as fast as a couple of posters could go, along the road to London. I sat in a dignified and luxurious manner, feeling myself a person of no little consequence--remembering that, at the same hour on the previous day, I had been trudging along the road ragged and hungry, with some doubt as to the reception I was to meet with at home. My tongue was kept going all the time, for Munch wished to hear all about my adventures. "Well, Master Jack, I am glad to have you back," he said.

"To tell the truth, my conscience was a little uncomfortable at the part I had taken in shipping you off on board the collier, though I might have known,"--he cast a quizzical look at me--"that those are never drowned who are--"

"Born to end their lives comfortably in bed," I added, interrupting him.

"You needn't finish the sentence in the way you were about to do; I was never much of a favourite of yours, Mr Munch, I know."

"I hope we shall be better friends in future, Master Jack," he remarked.

"You used, you know, to try my temper not a little sometimes."

As the old clerk was accustomed to long and sudden journeys, we stopped nowhere, except for a few minutes to get refreshments, till we rattled up to the George Inn at Portsmouth.

Much to our satisfaction, we heard from the waiter that the Russian frigate was still at Spithead, and as the weather was fine, we hurried down the High Street, intending at once to engage a wherry and go off to her. As we reached the point a man-of-war's boat pulled up, and several officers stepped on sh.o.r.e. "That is not the English uniform," observed Munch; "perhaps they have come from the Russian frigate." He was right, I was sure, for I thought that I recognised the countenances of several I had known on board the _Alexander_. Among them was a tall, slight young man, dressed as a sub-lieutenant. I looked at him earnestly, scanning his features. It might be Clement, yet I should not under other circ.u.mstances have thought it possible. The young man stopped, observing the way I was regarding him, and I began to doubt that he could be Clement, as he did not appear to know me. I could bear the uncertainty no longer, so, walking up to him, I said, "I am Happy Jack!

Don't you know me?" His whole countenance lighted up. With a cry of pleasure he seized both my hands, gazing earnestly in my face. "Jack, my dear fellow, Jack!" he exclaimed. "You alive, and here! Happy you may be, but not so happy as I am to see you. I mourned you as lost, for I could not hope that you had escaped a second time." His surprise was great indeed when I told him I came especially to search for him, and we at once agreed to repair to the "George," that I might give him the important information I had to afford, and settle, with the aid of Mr Munch, what course it would be advisable for him to pursue.

He was overwhelmed, as may be supposed, with astonishment and thankfulness when I told him of the wonderful way in which I had become possessed of the t.i.tle-deeds and jewels, which would, I hoped, establish his claims to a fair estate.

This matter occupied some time. "With regard to quitting the ship," he observed, "there will, I trust, be no difficulty. I am but a supernumerary on board, and as I could not regularly enter the service till the frigate returned to Russia, the captain will be able to give me my discharge when I explain the circ.u.mstances in which I am placed."

Having settled our plans, Mr Munch and I went on board with Clement.

The captain at once agreed to what Clement wished, though he expressed his regret at losing him. My friend the doctor recognised me, and treated me, as did several of the other officers, with much kindness and politeness. I was, however, too anxious to get Clement home to accept their courtesy, and the next morning we were again on the road northward.

Clement had studied hard while on board the Russian frigate, and had become a polished and gentlemanly young man, in every way qualified for the position he was destined to hold. He was made not a little of by my family, and though at one time I felt a touch of jealousy at the preference I fancied he showed to Grace Goldie, he soon relieved my fears by telling me that he hoped to become the husband of one of my sisters.

My father, after a considerable amount of labour, proved his ident.i.ty with the son of Mr Clement Leslie, who perished with his wife at sea, and established his claims to the property.

I had had quite enough of a "life on the ocean wave," and though I had no great fancy for working all day at a desk, I agreed to enter my father's office and tackle to in earnest, my incentive to labour, I confess, being the hope of one day becoming the husband of Grace Goldie.

We married, and I have every reason still to call myself "Happy Jack."

CHAPTER NINE.

THE "SAN FIORENZO" AND HER CAPTAIN.

NARRATED BY ADMIRAL M--.

There was not a happier ship in the service, when I joined her towards the end of the year 1794, than the gallant _San Fiorenzo_, Captain Sir Harry Burrard Neale, and those were not days when ships were reckoned little paradises afloat, even by enthusiastic misses or sanguine young midshipmen. They were generally quite the other thing.

The crews of many ships found it that other thing, and the officers, of course, found it so likewise. If the men are not contented, the officers must be uncomfortable; and, at the same time, I will say, from my experience, that when a ship gained the t.i.tle of a h.e.l.l-afloat, it was always in consequence of the officers not knowing their duty, or not doing it. Pride, arrogance, and an utter disregard for the feelings of those beneath them in rank, was too prevalent among the officers of the service, and was the secret of the calamitous events which occasionally happened about that time.

My n.o.ble commander was not such an one as those of whom I have spoken.

There were some like him, but not many his equals. I may truly say of him "that he belonged to the race of admirals of which the navy of Old England has a right to be proud; that he was a perfect seaman, and a perfect gentleman."

"He was one of the most humane, brave, and zealous commanders that ever trod a deck, to whom every man under him looked up as a father." I was with him for many, very many years--from my boyish days to manhood,--and I may safely say that I never saw him in a pa.s.sion, or even out of temper, though I have seen him indignant; and never more so than when merit--the merit of the junior officers of the service--has been overlooked or disregarded. I never heard him utter an oath, and I believe firmly that he never allowed one to escape his lips. I will say of him what I dare say of few men, that, in the whole course of his life, he was never guilty of an act unworthy of the character of a Christian and a gentleman. I was with him when his career was run-- when, living in private on his own estate, the brave old sailor, who had ever kept himself unspotted from the world, spent his days in "visiting the fatherless and widows in their affliction"--walking from cottage to cottage, with his basket of provisions or medicines, or books, where the first were not required.

Genuine were the tears shed on his grave, and hearty was the response as the following band gave forth the air of "The Fine Old English Gentleman, all of the Olden Time!"

And now, on the borders of his estate, visible afar over the Solent Sea, there stands a monument, raised by his sovereign and by those who knew and loved him well, all eager to add their testimony to his worth. But yet he lives in the heart of many a seaman, and will live while one remains who served under his command. But, avast! whither am I driving?

My feelings have carried me away.

Note: The "Solent Sea" is the name of the channel between the Isle of Wight and the mainland.

After what I have said, it is not surprising that the _San Fiorenzo_ should have been a happy ship. Her captain made her so. From the highest to the lowest, all trusted him; all knew that he had their interest at heart--all loved him. The _San Fiorenzo_ might have been a happy ship under an inferior commander--that is possible; but I doubt very much whether her crew would have done what they did do under any officer not possessed of those high qualities for which Sir Harry was so eminently distinguished. The _San Fiorenzo_ was highly honoured, for she was the favourite ship, or rather, Sir Harry was the favourite captain of His Majesty George the Third, who, let people say what they will of him, was truly the sailors' friend, and wished to be his subjects' friend, as far as he had the power. Sir Harry was a favourite, not because he was a flatterer, but because the King knew him to be an honest man.

George the Third, as is well known, was very fond of spending the summer months at Weymouth, whence he could easily put to sea in his yacht, or on board a man-of-war, placed at his disposal. He seemed never to tire of sailing, especially with Sir Harry.