The Cruise of the Frolic

“Are we all here?” exclaimed the master of the revels. “No, by Bacchus! two are wanting – Miss Seaton and Mr Loring – where are they?”

“Good gracious! where can they be?” screamed the Honourable Mrs Topgallant.

“What can have become of them?” cried Mrs Skyscraper.

“They probably did not hear you call, and I dare say they are not far off,” suggested Miss Cardiff, always anxious to find a good excuse for her acquaintance.

“I should not wonder but what they have eloped,” observed Miss Susan Rattler.

“What fun!” said Miss Mary Masthead; “we haven’t had such a thing for a long time.”

“How shocking!” ejaculated the Miss Masons in a breath, and looked at the Rev. Frederick.

“I’ll wager I find the truants,” said Bubble, about to go; but he was saved the trouble, for at that moment they appeared; the fair Jane looking very confused – Harry Loring remarkably happy.

“We’ve all been talking about you two,” blurted out Hearty. “No scandal though, so sit down and enable us to recover our appetites, for our anxiety nearly took them away. Now tell us, what have you been doing?”

Poor Jane did not know which way to look, nor what to say; and it never occurred to Hearty that his question might possibly confuse her. Loring, however, came to the rescue.

“Admiring the architecture, exploring everywhere, and examining every thing, which no one else appears to have done, or the dinner-bell would not have been answered so speedily. And now, old fellow, I’ll drink a glass of champagne with you.”

This would not blind us, however. Every one saw what he had been about, and no small blame to him either. Of course, no one further hinted at the subject. After dinner we again wandered about the ruins, and the shades of evening surprised us while still there, to the great horror of Mrs Topgallant, and not a little to that of the Miss Masons, who had been so earnestly listening to a discourse of the Rev. Frederick on the importance of reviving monasteries, that they did not observe the sun set.

“Hillo, ladies and gentlemen! we ought to be on board again,” sung out Hearty, from the top of a high wall to which he had climbed. “There is no time to be lost, if we would not displease our mammas.”

A good deal of time, however, was lost in collecting the scattered sheep, and in carrying down the baskets to the boats, which the servants had neglected to do. When we did at length reach the spot at which we had landed, a bank of mud was alone to be seen, and one of the men brought us the pleasing intelligence that the nearest place at which we could possibly embark was about a mile down the river.

“We here have a convincing proof that time and tide wait for no one,” cried Bubble; “or the latter would certainly have remained up for the convenience of so many charming young ladies.”

“Shocking!” exclaimed Mrs Topgallant.

“What will our mammas say?” ejaculated all the fair damsels.

“That it’s very improper,” said the chaperone-general.

“It can’t be helped now; so if we do not intend to spend the night on the beach, we had better keep moving,” observed one of the gentlemen.

Henry Flareup expressed his opinion that the dismay their non-arrival would cause would be jolly fun, and the Miss Rattlers were in ecstasies of delight at the contretemps.

However, no one grumbled very much, and at last we reached the boats. A new difficulty then arose. They barely floated with the crews in them, but with passengers on board they would be aground. The men had to get out, and, as it was, the only approach to them was over wet mud of a soft nature, yet no persuasions would induce the ladies to be carried to them. Mrs Topgallant would not hear of such a thing, and boldly led the van through the mud. The young ladies followed, nearly losing their shoes, and most effectually draggling (I believe it is a proper word) their gowns. Hearty counted them off to see, as he said, that none were missing; and then began the work of getting the boats afloat, one or two of the ladies, not accustomed to yachting, being dreadfully alarmed at seeing the men jump overboard, to lift them along. Huzza! off we went at last, and pulled towards the “Frolic.”

“Let’s get back as fast as we can, Snow,” exclaimed Hearty, as soon as he stepped on deck.

“Beg pardon, sir, it won’t be very fast, though,” answered the master.

“Why, how is that?” asked Hearty; “an hour and a half will do it, won’t it?”

“Bless your heart, no, sir,” said old Snow, almost laughing at the idea. “It’s just dead low water, so the flood will make up for the best part of the next six hours, and after that, if there doesn’t come more wind than we has now, we shan’t make no great way.”

“But let us at all events get up our anchor and try to do something,” urged Hearty, whose ideas of navigation were not especially distinct at the time.

“If we does, sir, we shall drive up to Southampton, or maybe, to Redbridge, for there ain’t an hair in all the ’eavens,” was the encouraging answer given by the master.

I never saw a more perfect calm. A candle was lighted on deck, and the flame went straight up as if in a room. If we had been in a tropical climate we should have looked out for a hurricane. Here nothing so exciting was to be apprehended. The conversation with the master was not overheard by any of the ladies, and Hearty thought it was as well to say nothing about it, but to leave them to suppose that we were on our way back to Cowes.

“It is much too dark to distinguish the shore, and as none of them ever think of looking at the sails, they will not discover that we are still at anchor,” he observed; and so it proved, as we shall presently see.

The after-cabin had been devoted to the use of the fairer portion of the guests, and when they got there and found the muddy condition of their dresses, there was a general cry for hot water to wash them. Luckily the cook’s coppers could supply a good quantity, and two tubs were sent aft, in which, as was afterwards reported – for we were not allowed to be spectators of the process – the Honourable Mrs Topgallant and her protégées were busily employed in rinsing their skirts, though it was not quite so easy a matter to dry them. Tea and coffee were next served up in the main cabin, and cakes and muffins and toast in profusion were produced, and as Carstairs quietly observed, “Never were washerwomen more happy.”

There was only one thing wanting, we had not sufficient milk; and that there might be no scarcity in future, it was proposed to send the steward on shore with Henry Flareup to swap him for a cow to be kept on board instead. He was fixed on as the victim, as it was considered that he had been making too much love to one of the Miss Sandons, conduct altogether unbecoming one of his tender years.

“We have passed a very pleasant evening, Mr Hearty, I can assure you,” said the chaperone; “and as I suppose we shall soon be there, we had better get ready to go on shore.”

“We shall have time for a dance first; we have had the deck cleared, and the musicians are ready,” replied Hearty; “may I have the honour of opening the ball with you, Mrs Topgallant?”

“Oh, I don’t know what to say to such a thing – I’m afraid it will be very incorrect; and at all events you must excuse me, Mr Hearty, I shall have quite enough to do to look after my charges.”

And as Mrs Topgallant said this, she glanced round at the assembled young ladies.

“A dance, a dance, by all means!” exclaimed the Miss Rattlers; “what capital fun.”

A dance was therefore agreed on, and we went on deck, which we found illuminated with all the lanterns and spare lamps which could be found on board; and even candles without any shade were stuck on the taffrail, and the boom was topped up, so as to be completely out of the way. We owed the arrangements to Bubble, Carstairs, and the master, who had been busily employed while the rest were below at tea. An exclamation of delight burst from the lips of the young ladies; the musicians struck up a polka, and in another minute all hands were footing it away as gayly as in any ball-room, and with far more merriment and freedom.

Ye gentlemen and ladies who stay at home at ease,Ah, little do ye think upon the fun there’s on the seas!

How we did dance! No one tired. Even Mrs Topgallant got up and took a turn with the Gentle Giant, and very nearly went overboard, by the by. We had no hot lamps, no suffocating perfumed atmosphere, to oppress us, as in a London ball-room. The clear sky was our ceiling, the cool water was around us. Every gentleman had danced with every lady, except that Loring had taken more than his share with Miss Seaton, before we thought of giving in.

“Well, I wonder we don’t get there!” on a sudden exclaimed Mrs Topgallant, as if something new had struck her.

There was a general laugh, set, I am sorry to say, by Sir Francis Futtock.

“Why, my dear madam, we have not begun to go yet.”

“Not begun to go!” cried the Miss Masons. “What will be said of us?”

“Not begun to go!” groaned the Rev. Fred. “What will my flock do without me?”

“Why, I thought we had been moving all the time. We have passed a number of objects which I should have taken for ghosts, if I believed in such things,” said Mrs Topgallant.

“Those were vessels going up with the tide, my dear madam, to Southampton, where we should have gone also,” observed Sir Francis.

Just then a tall dark object came out of the gloom, and glided by us at a little distance. It certainly had what one might suppose the appearance of a spirit wandering over the face of the waters.

“Cutter, ahoy! What cutter is that?” hailed a voice from the stranger.

“It’s one of them revenue chaps,” said Snow. “The ‘Frolic’ yacht; Edward Hearty, Esq, owner!” answered the old man; “and be hanged to you,” he muttered.

“‘I’ll call thee king – father, royal Dane. Oh, answer me!’” continued Carstairs.

“He’ll not answer you – so avast spouting, and let’s have another turn at dancing!” exclaimed Hearty, interrupting the would-be actor, and dragging him, to the side of Mrs Skyscraper, who did not refuse his request to dance another quadrille.

Thus at it again we went, to the no small amusement of a number of spectators, whose voices could be heard round us. Their boats were just dimly visible, though, from the bright lights on our deck, we could not see the human beings on board them. At last the rippling sound against our bows ceasing, gave notice that the tide had slackened, and that we might venture on lifting anchor. A light air also sprang up from the eastward, and slowly we began to move on our right course. Some of the un-nauticals, however, forgot that with an ebb tide and an easterly wind there was not much chance of our reaching Cowes in a hurry. A thick fog also began to rise from the calm water; and after the dancing, for fear of their catching cold, cloaks and coats, plaids and shawls, were in great requisition among the young ladies. Mrs Topgallant insisted that they would all be laid up, and that they must go below till they got into Cowes harbour.

“She was excessively angry,” she said, “with Mr Hearty for keeping them out in this way; and as for Sir Francis Futtock, a captain in Her Majesty’s navy, she was, indeed, surprised that such a thing could happen while he was on board.”

“But, my dear madam,” urged Sir Francis, in his defence, “you know that accidents will happen in the best-regulated families. Nobody asked my Advice, and I could not venture to volunteer it, or I might have foretold what has happened. However, come down below, and I trust no harm will ensue.”

After some persuasion, the good lady was induced to go below, and to rest herself on a sofa in one of the sleeping-cabins, the door of which Harry Flareup quietly locked, at a hint from Hearty, who then told the young ladies that, as Cerberus was chained, they might now do exactly what they liked. I must do them the justice to say that they behaved very well. There was abundance of laughter, however, especially when Miss Susan Rattler appeared habited in a large box-coat belonging to Captain Carstairs. It had certainly nothing yachtish about it. It was of a whitey-brown hue, with great horn buttons and vast pockets. It was thoroughly roadish, it smelt of the road, its appearance was of the road. It reminded one of the days of four-in-hand coaches; and many a tale it could doubtless tell of Newmarket; of races run, of bets booked. Not content with wearing the coat, Susan was persuaded to try a cigar. She puffed away manfully for some time.

“You look a very jemmy young gent, indeed you do,” observed the Gentle Giant, looking up at her as he sat at her feet. “What would your mamma say if she saw you?”

“What an odious custom you men have of smoking,” cried Hearty, pretending not to see who was the culprit.

“In the presence of ladies, too,” exclaimed Loring, really ignorant of the state of the case.

Poor Susan saw that she was laughed at, and, beginning probably at the same time to feel a little sick from the fumes of the tobacco, she was not sorry of an excuse for throwing Carstairs’ best Havana into the water.

As the fog settled over us rather heavily, not only were the more delicate part of the company wrapped up in cloaks and shawls, but we got up the blankets and counterpanes from the cabins, and swaddled them up completely in them, while the gentlemen threw themselves along at their feet, partly in a fit of romantic gallantry, and partly, it is just possible, to assist in keeping themselves warm. Carstairs recited Shakespeare all night long, and Loring sang some capital songs.

By this time we had got down to Calshot; and, as the tide was now setting down pretty strong, we appeared to be going along at a good rate.

“How soon shall we be in, captain?” asked one of the Miss Masons of the skipper, who was at the helm.

“That depends, miss, whether a breeze comes before we get down to Yarmouth or Hurst; because, if we keep on, we shan’t be far off either one or the other, before the tide turns,” was the unsatisfactory answer.

“Keep on, by all means, Snow,” exclaimed Hearty, who had not heard all that was said; “I promised to do my best to get in, and we must keep at it.”

So tideward we went; the little wind there had been dropping altogether. Presently we heard a hail.

“What cutter is that?”

“The ‘Frolic.’”

“Please, sir, we were sent out to look for you, to bring Mrs Topgallant and Miss Masons, and some other ladies, on shore.”

There was a great deal of talk, but Hearty had determined that no one should leave the yacht. Mrs Topgallant was below, and could not be disturbed; besides, the other young ladies could not be left without a chaperone. The Miss Masons wanted to go in company with their pastor, but it would not exactly do to be out in a boat alone with the Rev. Fred. As that gentleman was afraid of catching cold, he was at the time safe below, and knew nothing of what was taking place, so the boat was sent off without a freight. Hearty vowed that he would fire on any other boat which came near us to carry off any of his guests. Thus the night wore on.

It would be impossible to record all the witty things which were said, all the funny things which were done, and all the laughter which was laughed. All I can say is, that the ladies and gentlemen were about as unlike as possible to what they would have been in town during the season. Hour after hour passed rapidly away, and not a little surprised were they when the bright streaks of dawn appeared in the eastern sky, and Egypt Point was seen a long way off in the same direction, while the vessel was found to be turning round and round without any steerage-way.

Now it was very wrong and very improper, and I don’t mean for a moment to defend our conduct, though, by the by, the fault was all Hearty’s; but it was not till half-past eleven of the next day that the party set foot once more upon the shore. Never was there a merrier pic-nic; and, what is more, in spite of wet feet and damp fogs, no one was a bit the worse for it.

Looking in at the post-office, I found a letter summoning me immediately to London.

Sending a note to Hearty, to tell him of my departure, I set off forthwith, and reached the modern Babylon that same night. How black and dull and dingy it looked; how hot it felt; how smoky it smelt! I was never celebrated for being a good man of business; but on the present occasion I worked with a will, and it was wonderful with what rapidity I got through the matter in hand, and once more turned my back on the mighty metropolis.

Chapter Five

True Love Runs anything but smooth – Being a Melancholy Subject, I Cut it short

The day after my return I met Harry Loring. Alas, how changed was the once joyous expression of his countenance!

“My dear fellow, what is the matter?” I asked.

“What, don’t you know?” he exclaimed. “I thought all the world did, and laughed at me. False, fickle, heartless flirting!”

“What is all this about?” I asked. “I deeply regret, I feel – ”

“Oh, of course you do,” he replied, interrupting me petulantly. “I’ll tell you how it was. She had accepted me, as you may have guessed, and I made sure that there would be no difficulties, as she has plenty of money, though I have little enough; but when there is sufficient on one side, what more can be required? At last one day she said, ‘I wish, Mr Loring, you would speak to mamma’ (she had always called me Harry before). ‘Of course I will,’ said I, thinking it was a hint to fix the day; but after I left her, my mind misgave me. Well, my dear fellow, as I dare say you know, that same having to speak to papa or mamma is the most confoundedly disagreeable thing of all the disagreeables in life, when one hasn’t got a good rent-roll to show. At least, after all the billing and cooing, and the romance and sentiment of love, it is such a worldly, matter-of-fact, pounds-shillings-and-pence affair, that it is enough to disgust a fellow. However, I nerved myself up for the encounter, and was ushered into the presence of the old dragon.”

“You shouldn’t speak of your intended mother-in-law in that way,” I observed, interrupting him.

“My intended – ; but you shall hear,” he continued. “‘Well, sir, I understand that you have favoured my daughter with an offer,’ she began. I didn’t like the tone of her voice nor the look of her green eye, – they meant mischief. ‘I have had the happiness of being accepted by’ – ‘Stay, stay!’ she exclaimed, interrupting me. ‘My daughter would not think of accepting you without asking my leave; and I, as a mother, must first know what fortune you can settle on her.’ ‘Every thing she has got or ever will have,’ I replied, as fast as I could utter the words. ‘My father and mother are excellent people, and they have kindly offered us a house, and’ – ‘is that it, Mr Loring? And you have nothing – absolutely nothing?’ shrieked out the old woman. Oh, how I hated her! ‘Then, sir, I beg you will clearly understand, that from this moment all communication between you and my daughter ceases for ever. I could not have believed that any gentleman would have been guilty of such impertinence. What! a man without a penny to think of marrying my daughter, with her beauty and her fortune! There, sir, you have got my answer; I hope you understand it. Go, sir; go!’ I did go, without uttering another word, though I gave her a look which ought to have confounded her; and here you see me a miserable, heartbroken man. I have been in vain trying to get a glimpse of Jane, to ask her if it was by her will that I am thus discarded, and if so, to whistle her down the wind; but I have dreadful suspicions that it was a plot between them to get rid of me, and if so, I have had a happy escape.”

I have an idea that his last suspicion was right. Poor fellow, I pitied him. It struck me as a piece of arrant folly on the part of the mother, that a nice, gentlemanly, good-looking fellow should be sent to the right-about simply because he was poor, when the young lady had ample fortune for them both.

“Look here!” exclaimed Loring, bitterly; “is it not enough to make a man turn sick with grief and pain as he looks round and sees those he once knew as blooming, nice girls growing into crusty old maids, because their parents chose to insist on an establishment and settlement for them equal to what they themselves enjoy, instead of remembering the altered circumstances of the times? Not one man in ten has a fortune; and if the talents and energy of the rising generation are not to be considered as such, Hymen may blow out his torch and cut his stick, and the fair maidens of England will have to sing for ever and a day, ‘Nobody coming to marry me, nobody coming to woo.’”

I laughed, though I felt the truth of what he said. “But are you certain that you are disinterested? Were you in no way biassed in your love by her supposed-fortune?” I asked.

“On my word, I was not. I never thought of the tin,” was the answer.

“Then,” I replied, “I must say that you are a very ill-used gentleman.”

Chapter Six

How to kill time – the O’Wiggins – England’s Bulwarks – Jack Mizen and the “Fun” – Her Fair Crew – Naval Heroes and Nautical Heroines

I had promised to yacht during the summer with Hearty; and as he paid me the compliment of saying that he could not do without me, notwithstanding several other invitations I had received, I felt myself in honour bound to rejoin the “Frolic.” I had no disinclination to so doing, though I own at times we led rather a more rollicking life than altogether suited my taste. Accordingly, I once more took up my berth aboard the “Frolic.” Hearty was growing somewhat tired of the style of life he was leading. He wanted more variety, more excitement. Indeed, floating about inside the Isle of Wight with parties of ladies on board is all very well in its way to kill time, but unless one of the fair creatures happens to be the only girl he ever loved, or, at all events, the only girl he loves just then, or the girl he loves best, he very soon wearies of the amusement, if he is worth any thing, and longs for the wide ocean, and a mixture of storms with sunshine and smooth water. I found the party on board the “Frolic” increased by the addition of two. The most worthy of note was Tom Porpoise, a thorough seaman, and as good a fellow as ever stepped. He had entered into an arrangement with Hearty to act as captain of the yacht; for though Snow was a very good sailing-master, he was nothing of a navigator, and Hearty was now contemplating a trip to really distant lands.

Porpoise was a lieutenant in the navy of some years’ standing; he had seen a great deal of service, and was considered a good officer. He sang a good song, told a good story, and was always in good spirits and good humour. He had been in the Syrian war, in China, on the coast of Africa, and in South America; indeed, wherever there had been any fighting, or work of any sort to be done, there has dashing Tom Porpoise been found. He had a good appetite, and, as old Snow used to say, his victuals did him good. Porpoise was fat; there was no denying the fact, nor was he ashamed of it. His height was suited to the dimensions of a small craft, and then, having stated that his face was red, not from intemperance, but from sun and spray, I think that I have sufficiently described our most excellent chum.

The other addition of note was ycleped Gregory Groggs. How Hearty came to ask him on board I do not know. It could scarcely have been for his companionable qualities, nor for his general knowledge and information; for I had seldom met a more simple-minded creature – one who had seen less of the world, or knew less of its wicked ways. It was his first trip to sea, and he afforded us no little amusement by his surprise at every thing he beheld, and every thing which occurred. He had a tolerably strong inside; so, as we had fine weather, he fortunately for us and for himself, was seldom sea-sick. Our friend Groggs was a native of an inland county, from which he had never before stirred, when, having come into some little property, he was seized with a strong desire to see the world. He had been reading some book or other which had given him most extraordinary principles; and one of his ideas was, that people should marry others of a different nation, as the only way of securing peace throughout the world. He informed us that he should early put his principles into practice, and that, should he find some damsel to suit his taste in France, he should without fail wed her. We bantered him unmercifully on the subject; but, as is the case with many other people with one idea, that was not easily knocked out of his head.