CHAPTER XXXI.

HOMEWARD BOUND.

Jack Somers was compelled to remain at Key West three weeks before he could find a vessel bound to the North; and the important documents which he carried burned in his pocket. He wanted to show them to Captain Barney, to his mother, and to all his friends in Pinchbrook. They were the evidences of his good conduct, of his skill and bravery; and, though Jack was a modest young man, he was proud of his record. He had served his country faithfully and zealously; and he was grateful to his friends for their high appreciation of his services.

During those three weeks of idleness, Jack applied himself closely to the study of navigation; using a book which Captain McBride had kindly presented to him. He felt that he had not a moment to waste, and that his future success depended upon the zeal and energy with which he devoted himself to his studies. He was anxious to secure a high rank in the Naval School; and he was willing to purchase his anticipated position by hard work.

He was already a thorough seaman. Tom Longstone had been a patient teacher, and he had learned all that belongs to an able seaman’s duty. He was perfectly familiar with the practical part of gunnery; was thoroughly posted in all the technicalities of the ship and its batteries. Of the science of gunnery he knew only what he had learned from his books since the Middy sailed from New Orleans. He had thus obtained a measure of knowledge in regard to the practical details of his profession, to the attainment of which the young gentlemen in the Naval School must devote months or years. But Jack had not acquired all this information during the single year he had been in the navy: he had simply added to his previous knowledge by close attention to his duty.

Busy as he was with his studies, he found time to write a long letter to Captain Bankhead, informing him of the reception of his warrant, and expressing his gratitude for the friendly interest he had ever manifested in his welfare. “I shall always think the trip we made to Fort Warren on that dark November night, a year ago, was the luckiest cruise I ever made,” wrote Jack in the letter; “for it gave me a friend who has done more for me than I could ever have done for myself.”

Jack wrote this; but I am sure that Captain Bankhead neither would nor could have done what he did, if our hero had not deserved such distinguished favors,--if he had not been a good boy and a good seaman. He had several weeks before received letters from home, informing him that his brother had been promoted to a lieutenancy. Tom was a commissioned officer, and was therefore some months, if not years, ahead of him in the race for distinction; but both of them, while they had a just and proper regard for the honors of their respective professions, were better satisfied to have served their country in its hour of trial than they were to receive their merited promotion.

Jack wanted very much to get home; but he was so busy with his studies, that he had no time to be impatient at the delay. When an opportunity to depart was presented, he was much less elated than his half-dozen impatient companions who had nothing to occupy their minds. The men who were to go North were sent on board of an old steamer, which was hardly seaworthy, and which was going to New York for repairs.

The voyage was prosperous till the steamer reached the latitude of Cape Hatteras, where she was overtaken by one of the severe gales which prevailed in that region. The vessel leaked badly, and shipped great seas, till she was in imminent danger of foundering. It required the utmost exertion of all hands to keep her afloat; but the men worked zealously and cheerfully, till an accident to the engine seemed to deprive them of all hope of ever seeing the land again.

The ship rolled and pitched heavily in the head-seas for a time; and, at every roll, it seemed as though her back must be broken. By almost superhuman efforts on the part of the crew, sufficient sail was set to keep her head up to the sea, and she worked easier. Jack had just come down from the fore-topsail-yard, completely exhausted by the violence of his exertions. Life-lines had been extended along the deck for the men to hold on by when the seas swept over the decks. Jack had grasped one of these ropes just as the ship felt her helm; when a great combing billow broke over the bow, sweeping a flood of water towards the stern.

The second-lieutenant of the steamer, who had been forward superintending the setting of the sail, was in front of him, and, either by accident or carelessness, lost his hold upon the life-line. The mass of water bore him along as though he had been a feather, towards a hole which the sea had stove in the bulwarks. Perceiving the perilous situation of the officer, Jack seized the inner fake of a rope, flemished on the deck, and sprang towards the lieutenant. Passing the line around his body, he followed the rolling billow, and succeeded in securing a hold upon the officer’s leg, just as he was sliding over the plank-shear into the sea.

Jack would certainly have gone with him, if his attentive shipmates had not grasped the other end of the line by which he had secured himself. Another sea rolled over them before they could recover their perpendicular positions; but Jack held on to the leg of the officer, and the men hauled them both up to the life-line.

“Your name?” demanded the lieutenant, when he had regained his feet.

“Somers, sir.”

“Well, Somers, this is a bad time to plank the deck,” he added with a smile, as he emptied the salt water from his mouth.

“Very bad, sir.”

“You shall hear from me again, Somers,” added the officer as he walked aft.

After the crew of the old steamer had endured more than we have room to describe, the gale broke; and, favored with better weather, the engine was repaired, and she proceeded on her voyage, very much to the satisfaction of those who had lost all hope of ever reaching the land.

The next day, while the ship was rolling heavily through the sea which had not yet subsided, Jack, who had just been relieved from duty at the pumps, was accosted by Mr. Waldron, the second-lieutenant, whom he had saved from an ocean-grave.

“Somers, you saved my life yesterday: what can I do for you?” said he.

“Thank you, sir: I’m not in want of anything just now,” replied Jack, touching his cap.

“Your time is out, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you quit the navy?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then, my lad, you shall have a better berth than you had before. I think I have influence enough to procure a good rating.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Jack.

“You look as though you would make a good topman. What do you say to being captain of the main-top?”

“Thank you, sir: I have been rated as cockswain of the captain’s gig and as a quartermaster.”

“Is that so? Then I may not be able to do anything better in that direction.”

Jack thought it would be a good joke to show him his midshipman’s warrant at this point of the conversation; and accordingly he produced the precious document.

“What are you doing forward with this paper in your pocket?” asked the astonished lieutenant.

“I had no uniform, sir, and was in no condition to appear as an officer.”

“You shall swing your hammock in the steerage for the rest of the voyage, at least. If you are a brother-officer, I need not think of rewarding you,” laughed Mr. Waldron.

“I hope not, sir.”

Jack was immediately presented to the captain, who ordered him to carry his bag into the steerage, greatly to the astonishment of his late companions, who had no suspicion that they had messed with so distinguished an individual as a midshipman. The steamer rolled along on her voyage, and at last arrived at New York.

Jack lost no time in proceeding to Boston, though not till he had arranged for a meeting with Mr. Waldron at some future time; for the grateful officer insisted upon continuing the acquaintance so fortunately begun. It was about sunset when the sailor-boy reached Pinchbrook.

“Hallo, Jack, my hearty!” said a familiar voice as he stepped from the car.

“Captain Barney!”

“Ay, ay, my lad! But where do you come from? We did not expect you back yet a while,” added the old gentleman, still wringing our hero’s hand.

Jack briefly informed his good friend where he had come from.

“Well, Jack----”

“I beg your pardon, Captain Barney: call me Mr. Somers, if you please,” laughed Jack.

“Eh?”

“Mr. Midshipman Somers is my present designation.”

“Whew!” whistled the old sailor.

“I have won my warrant.”

“Well, _Mr._ Somers----”

“Avast, captain: that will do. You may call me Jack, now; for I don’t know the sound of my own name with such a long handle to it.”

“Come down to the house with me, Jack.”

“Oh, no, sir! not now. I must go up and see mother--and father: I haven’t seen him for nearly two years.”

“Never mind: come down to the house. You will scare your mother out of her wits if you bolt in upon her like a harpoon into a whale. I’ll put the horse in, and take you up pretty soon.”

“I want to see her at once.”

“And frighten her into a fit!”

“She don’t have fits: at any rate, she would only have a fit of gladness at seeing me.”

Captain Barney persisted, apparently firm in the belief that Mrs. Somers would go into hysterics if her son presented himself too suddenly. It would be better to break the news gradually to her. Jack could not help himself, and walked home with Captain Barney. He was conducted to the library as the bell rang for tea.

“Come, Jack, now come out and have some supper with me,” said the captain.

“No, sir: decidedly, I cannot. What would my mother say if I took tea in Pinchbrook before I went home?” replied Jack emphatically.

“Well, come out and look at the folks, at any rate; and then, if you insist on going, I will harness right up.”

Jack began to protest that he would not go, even to look at the folks; when Captain Barney took him by the arm, and gently forced him through the door leading to the dining-room.

“Why, John Somers!” exclaimed a voice which Jack could not possibly mistake.

“Why, Jack, my boy! is that you?” added another voice equally familiar to his ear.

In another moment our sailor-boy was in the arms of his mother, who hugged and kissed him as though he were still an infant. Mr. Midshipman Somers, regardless of the dignity of an officer in the United States Navy, wept like a baby. His “top-lights” were flooded, in spite of all his efforts to suppress the rising tide; but we are happy to say that Mrs. Somers did not go into hysterics, “conniptions,” or anything of the sort. Like a sensible woman, she did not even faint.

Captain Somers took the hand of his brave boy, and gave him a sailor’s hearty welcome home. The whole family, it appeared, were taking tea at the hospitable mansion of the retired shipmaster, who had got up a surprise for Jack as well as for his mother.

“Don’t you think my mother will be frightened into a fit, Captain Barney?” said Jack, when the first greetings were over. “You meant to throw me into a fit.”

“Well, Jack, I had no more idea of seeing you than I had of seeing Jeff Davis. I went up after my newspaper; for I can’t eat my supper till I’ve seen the news; but I didn’t expect to bring you back with me.”

“I’ll forgive you this time.”

“Next time you come home, I suppose you’ll be an admiral.”

“I hope not; for I shall be older than you are, then.”

I need not tell my readers what a happy evening was spent at Captain Barney’s, nor how late Jack and his parents sat up that night in reviewing the events of the year. Tom’s letters were all brought out and read; and Jack could not help taking a little walk about the house, though the Pinchbrook clock was striking twelve.

“Eight bells! All the starboard watch, ahoy!” said Jack, as he kissed his mother, and went to his old chamber in the attic of the cottage.

A few days after his return, Jack put on his uniform: and certain young ladies declared that he was even a “handsomer fellow than his brother Tom”; for patriotic young ladies have a high regard for blue coats and bright buttons.

At the expiration of his furlough, Jack reported at the Naval School; and here--leaving him as a bright example of what a young man may accomplish by being true to himself, true to his country, and true to God--here properly ends the eventful history of “THE SAILOR BOY,” though not of “JACK SOMERS IN THE NAVY.”

FOOTNOTES:

[A] We refer those who are curious to know more about ships-of-war to Master Brady’s “Kedge Anchor;” to Herman Melville’s “White Jacket, or the World in a Man-of-War,” and, for ships in general, to Mr. Dana’s “Seaman’s Friend.”

[B] Discharged, dead.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.

Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.