Chapter 7. How Mark Had A Surprise

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_ CHAPTER SEVEN. HOW MARK HAD A SURPRISE

Blackwall and Woolwich, Gravesend, and the vessel moored for the night. There a few preliminaries were adjusted, and the next morning, with the deck not quite in such a state of confusion, the vessel began to drop down with the tide.

And now Mark woke to the fact that the captain was once more only a secondary personage on board, the pilot taking command, under whose guidance sails dropped down and the great ship gradually made her way in and out of the dangerous shoals and sand-banks, till, well out to sea on a fine calm day, the pilot-boat came alongside, and Captain Strong, as the pilot wished him a lucky voyage, again took command.

There had been so much going on in lashing spars in their places, getting down the last of the cargo, and securing the ship's boats, along with a hundred other matters connected with clearing the decks and making things ship-shape, that Mark saw little of his father and the officers, except at mealtimes; and hence he was thrown almost entirely in the company of his mother. There were the passengers, but they, for the most part, were somewhat distant and strange at first; but now, as the great ship began to go steadily down channel, before a pleasant south-easterly breeze, the decks were clear, ropes coiled down, hatches battened over, and there was a disposition among the strangers on board to become friendly.

They were not a very striking party whom Captain Strong had gathered round his table, but, as he told Mrs Strong, he had to make the best of them. There was a curiously dry-looking Scotch merchant on his way back to Hong-Kong. An Irish major, with his wife and daughter, bound for the same place. A quiet stout gentleman, supposed to be a doctor, and three young German agricultural students on their way to Singapore, from which place, after a short stay, they were going to Northern Queensland to introduce some new way of growing sugar.

But just as the passengers were growing social, and the panorama of Southern England was growing more and more beautiful, the weather began to change.

Its first vagary was in the shape of a fog while they were off the Dorsetshire coast, and with the fog there was its companion, a calm.

"One of a sailor's greatest troubles," Mr Morgan said to Mark as they were leaning over the taffrail watching the gulls, which seemed to come in and out of the mist.

"But capital for a passenger who only wants to make his trip as long as he can," said Mark laughingly.

"Ah! I forgot that you leave us at Plymouth," said the second-mate.

"Penzance," cried Mark.

"That depends on the weather, young man. If that happens to be bad you will be dropped at Plymouth, and I'm afraid we are going to have a change."

The second-mate was right, for before many hours had passed, and when Start and Prawle points had been pointed out as they loomed up out of the haze upon their right, the sea began to rise. That night the wind was increasing to a gale, and Mark was oblivious, like several of the passengers, of the grandeur of the waves; neither did he hear the shrieking of the wind through the rigging. What he did hear was the creaking and groaning of the timbers of the large ship as she rose and fell, and the heavy thud of some wave which smote her bows and came down like a cataract upon her deck.

"Come, Mark, Mark, my lad," the captain said, "you must hold up. You're as bad as your mother."

"Are we going to the bottom, father?" was all Mark could gasp out.

"No, my boy," said the captain, laughing, "I hope not. This is only what we sailors call a capful of wind."

Mrs Strong was too ill to leave her cabin, but the first-mate came to give the sea-sick lad a friendly grip of the hand, and pat poor Bruff's head as he sat looking extremely doleful, and seeming to wonder what it all meant Mr Morgan, too, made his appearance from time to time.

Then all seemed to be rising up and plunging down with the shrieking of wind, the beating of the waves, and darkness, and sickness, and misery.

Was it day or was it night? How long had he been ill? How long was all this going to last?

Once or twice Mark tried to crawl out of his berth, but he was too weak and ill to stir; besides which, the ship was tossing frightfully, and once when the captain came in it seemed to the lad that he looked careworn and anxious. But Mark was too ill to trouble himself about the storm or the ship, or what was to become of them, and he lay there perfectly prostrate.

The steward came from time to time anxious looking and pale, but Mark did not notice it. He for the most part refused the food that was brought to him, and lay back in a sort of stupor, till at last it seemed to him that the ship was not rocking about so violently.

Then came a time when the cabin seemed to grow light, and the steps of men sounded overhead as they were removing some kind of shutter.

Lastly he woke one morning with the sun shining, and his father, looking very haggard, sitting by his berth.

"Well, my lad," he said, "this has been a sorry holiday for you. Come, can't you hold up a bit? The steward's going to bring you some tea."

"I--can't touch anything, father; but has the storm gone?"

"Thank Heaven! yes, my lad. I never was in a worse!"

"But you said it was a capful of wind," said Mark faintly.

"Capful, my lad! it was a hurricane, and I'm afraid many a good ship has fared badly."

"But the _Petrel's_ all right, father?"

"Behaved splendidly."

"Are we--nearly at Plymouth?" was Mark's next question.

"Nearly where?"

"At Plymouth. I think, as I'm so ill, I'd better not go any farther. How is mother?"

"Going to get up, my lad, and that's what you've got to do."

"I'll try, father. When shall I go ashore?"

"If you like, at Malta, for a few hours," said the captain drily; "not before."

"At Malta!" said Mark, raising himself upon one arm.

"Yes, at Malta. Do you know where we are?"

"Somewhere off the Devon coast, I suppose."

"You were, a week ago, my boy. There, get up and dress yourself; the sun shines and the sea's calm, and in a few hours I can show you the coast of Spain."

"But, father," cried Mark, upon whom this news seemed to have a magical effect, "aren't we going ashore at Penzance."

"Penzance, my boy! We had one of the narrowest of shaves of going on the Lizard Rocks, and were only too glad to get plenty of sea-room. Do you know we've been running for a week under storm topsails, and in as dangerous a storm as a ship could face?"

"I knew it had been very bad, father, but not like that. What are you going to do?"

"Make the best of things, sir. Look here, Mark, you wanted to come for a voyage with me."

"Yes, father."

"Well, I said I wouldn't take you."

"Yes, father."

"And now I'm obliged to: for I can't put back."

"Going to take me to China?" cried Mark.

"Yes, unless I put in at Lisbon, and send you home from there, and that's not worth while."

"Father!"

"What! are you so much better as that? Here, what are you going to do?"

"Get up directly, father, and see the coast of Spain." _

Read next: Chapter 8. How Captain Jack Came On Deck

Read previous: Chapter 6. How Mark Strong Made Friends

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