a young man stood on the platform of the south-western railway pointing out his luggage to a porter. there was a good deal of it, and every package had serapis painted upon it. serapis, however, was not the name of that young man; that was inscribed on another part of the trunk, and ran, “vincent crawley, ra.” serapis indicated the ship into whose hold all these things were to go. they had other marks, for some were to go to the bottom—absit omen!—the bottom of the hold, i mean, not of the sea, and were to remain there till the end of the voyage. but one trunk was to lie atop, for it contained light clothing to be worn on entering the red sea. minute were the printed directions about these matters which had been sent him directly he got his route. it is the fashion to cry out against red tape, but red tape is a first-rate thing if it only ties up the bundles properly. there is nothing like order, method—routine in short. by following it too closely on exceptional occasions absurd blunders may now and then be committed; but think of the utter confusion that would prevail every hour for the want of it.
with a cold march wind blowing how should a young fellow who had never been out of his own country know that in a few days it would be so hot that his present clothes would be unbearable? or how should he understand the way to meet the difficulty if he did know it? i am all for rules and regulations, and down with the grumblers.
mrs crawley and the girls agreed with me, for the official directions saved them a world of trouble. they wanted to go down to portsmouth in a body and see him off, but he begged them not.
“i had sooner say good-bye here, mother,” he said, “if you don’t mind. there’s a detachment, and i shall have my men to look after, and if i am with you i shall be bothered. and, well, you know, parting is a melancholy sort of business, and it is better to get it over in private, don’t you think?”
mrs crawley saw wisdom in her son’s words, and yielded with a sigh, for she yearned to see the very last of him. ah! we do not half value the love of our mothers until we miss it, and the opportunity for making any return is gone for ever. it seems such a matter of course, like the sun shining, which no one troubles to be grateful for. but if the sun went out.
well, it was a painful business—a good deal worse than a visit to the dentist’s—that morning’s breakfast, with the table crowded with his favourite dainties, which he could not swallow. and then the final parting, when all the luggage was piled on the cab. it was a relief when it was over, and he found himself alone and trying to whistle. even now, as he stowed the smaller articles in the carriage, he had a great lump in his throat.
the guard began shutting the doors, so he got in, and as he had fellow-passengers it was necessary to look indifferent, and as if he were accustomed to long journeys. the train moved out of the station and he found several things to distract his thoughts. presently on the right they passed the wimbledon lawn-tennis grounds, and he thought of a wonderful rally he had seen there between renshaw and lawson. then further on they came to sandown on the left, where a steeple-chase was in progress. the horses were approaching the water jump, and the travellers put down their newspapers and crowded to the window.
“something in tom cannon’s colours leading; he’s over. that thing of lord marcus is pulling hard. by jove he is down! no, he has picked him up again. well ridden, sir!”
“who is it up?”
“why, beresford himself. he will win, too, i think. oh, hang it, i wish they would stop the train a moment!”
everybody laughed at this, though it was provoking not to see them over the next fence; but the engine gave a derisive scream, and away they rushed to farnborough.
“there’s aldershot, and the long valley, and that cocked hat wood. british generals would beat creation if they might only let their left rest on cocked hat wood.”
they were all army men in the carriage, and the conversation never flagged now it had been started.
“are you going by the serapis?” asked a gentleman sitting opposite crawley, seeing cabin painted on his busby case in the net overhead.
“yes,” replied crawley. and then learning that he was bound for india the other inquired the presidency and the station, and it so happened that he had left that district only the year before, and was now settled in hampshire, having been superannuated, at which he grumbled much, and indeed he was a hale young-looking man to be laid on the shelf. and so the time sped rapidly till they reached portsmouth harbour, where a conspicuous white vessel, which was pointed out to crawley as the serapis, lay moored to a quay. then he superintended the loading of his luggage in a cart, and taking a cab accompanied it through the dock-yard gates to a shed, where he saw it deposited as per regulation. then he went to the “george,” where he had secured a bed, and on entering the coffee-room heard his name uttered in a tone of pleased surprise: “crawley!”
“what, buller! how are you, old fellow?”
“all right. are you going out in the serapis?”
“yes; and you?”
“yes.”
“that is jolly. what regiment are you in?”
“first battalion blankshire. do you know i got into sandhurst direct the first time i went up!”
“of course you did; you would be sure to do anything you really meant; i always said so. i must go and report myself now and see about my detachment, for there are some men going out with me; but we shall meet at dinner.”
they dined together at a small table by themselves, and had a long talk afterwards about the old weston fellows, of whom buller had recent information through penryhn, who lived near his people at home.
“i know about robarts,” said crawley; “he is in the oxford eleven; but there is your chum penryhn, what is he doing?”
“oh, he is in a government office in somerset house. not a large income, but safe, and rounded off with a pension. better than our line, so far as money goes anyhow.”
“i suppose so; but i should not like office work. and smith, old algebra, have you heard of him?”
“yes, he is mathematical master at a big school.”
“and gould?”
“why, don’t you know? it was in all the papers. gould’s father smashed and died suddenly; did not leave his family a penny. some friends got lionel gould a clerkship in some counting-house; his sister clarissa, your old friend, you know, supports herself and her mother by the stage.”
“dear, dear, i am sorry for them; it must be precious hard when they were used to such luxury. and that chap edwards, have you ever heard of him?”
“oh, yes, he is at cambridge, and intends to take orders when he gets his degree.”
“i hope it will keep him out of mischief; i always fancied he might come to grief, he was such a weak beggar.”
“yes, he was, and is still, i hear. but he has had the luck to get into the clutches of a man who keeps him straight; a fellow as good as gold, and earnest enough to make all the edwardses in the country believe in him.”
“lucky for edwards; if he marries a stiffish sort of wife with the same opinions he will live and die a saint. saurin would have made the other thing of him. by the by, have you ever heard anything of that fellow?”
“not lately. he had a row with his uncle and guardian, and went to australia, i believe; but i have heard nothing of him for years.”
they chatted late into the night, and when crawley went to bed his heart smote him to remember how little he had thought of his mother.
the serapis was to sail on the following day at noon, so when crawley had seen his gunners safely embarked, and the two friends had reported themselves at the little office outside the saloon, had traversed that lofty palatial apartment (how different from the cabins of the old troop-ships!), carefully removing their caps as a placard directed them, had made acquaintance with the little cabin which they were to share together, and had stowed away their minor properties within it, they took a last turn on shore, principally to get one or two little comforts which they had forgotten till then.
as they passed a low public-house on their way back to the ship, a remarkably smart corporal of marines came out of it, and since they were in uniform, saluted. but as he did so, he suddenly turned his head away and quickened his pace.
crawley and buller looked at one another.
“did you recognise him?”
“yes.”
it was saurin.
