Chapter One.

The Family Party.

“Harry, my boy; another slice of beef?” said Major Shafto, addressing his fine young sailor-son, a passed midshipman, lately come home from sea.

“No, thank you, since I could not, if I took it, pay due respect to the mince-pies and plum-pudding; but Willy here can manage another slice, I daresay. He has a notion, that he will have to feed for the future on ‘salt junk’ and ‘hard tack.’”

Willy Dicey was going to sea, and had just been appointed to Harry Shafto’s ship, the “Ranger.”

Among the large party of family friends collected at Major Shafto’s house on that Christmas Day not many years ago, was Lieutenant Dicey, a friend and neighbour of the Major’s, who had served with him in the same regiment for many years. The Lieutenant had lost a leg, and, unable to purchase his company, had retired from the army. His eldest son, Charles, and two of his daughters, Emily and May, had arranged to go out and settle in New Zealand; and they expected shortly to sail. The Lieutenant would gladly have gone with them, but he had a delicate wife and several other children, and thought it wiser, therefore, to remain at home. The party was a happy and cheerful one. The fire burned brightly, showing that there was a hard frost outside. The lamp shed a brilliant light over the well-covered table, and the Major did his best to entertain his guests. The first course was removed, and then came a wonderful plum-pudding, and such dishes of mince-pies! And then the brandy was brought and poured over them, and set on fire; and Harry Shafto and Willy Dicey tried if they could not eat them while still blazing, and, of course, burned their mouths, eliciting shouts of laughter; and the whole party soon thought no more of the future, and were happy in the present. How Mrs Clagget’s tongue did wag! She was a tall, old lady, going out to a nephew in New Zealand; and, as she was to be the companion of the young Diceys on the voyage, she had been asked to join the Christmas party.

Dinner was just over when voices were heard in the hall singing a Christmas carol, and all the guests went out to listen to the words which told of the glorious event which had, upwards of eighteen hundred years before, occurred in the distant East, and yet was of as much importance to all the human race, and will be to the end of time, as then. Ringers came next, and lastly mummers played their parts, according to an ancient custom, which some might consider “more honoured in the breach than in the observance.” After this there was blind-man’s buff, in which all the maid-servants as well as the children joined, and Mrs Clagget’s own maid and the Diceys’ Susan, who had come with the children. Well was that Christmas Day remembered by most of the party.

Soon after this the Diceys began to make active preparations for their intended voyage. Charles went up to London and engaged a passage for himself and sisters, and for Mrs Clagget, on board the “Crusader.” He came back, describing her as a very fine vessel, and he seemed well pleased with her commander, Captain Westerway.

As the time for parting approached, the young people began to feel that it would prove a greater trial than they had expected. While talking of their future life in the colony, and anticipating the various novel scenes and the new existence they were to enjoy, they had scarcely considered the wrench to their feelings which they would have to endure. Mr and Mrs Dicey had felt this, probably, from the first; and therefore, when the trial came, they were better prepared for it. Willy was the first to be got ready to start with his friend, Harry Shafto. We will, therefore, follow their fortunes before we accompany our other friends on their voyage.

Chapter Two.

The “Ranger” sails.

Harry and Willy leave home—Journey to Portsmouth—The “Blue Posts”—Midshipmen’s tricks—On board the “Ranger”—The soldier-officers—The sergeant’s wife—Mrs Morley and her family—Mrs Rumbelow nurses Willy—Cape of Good Hope—Sent to land troops—The “Ranger” in danger—Driving towards shore—The last anchor holds—Sail made—Mrs Rumbelow’s sermon—Troops carried on.

One bright morning at the end of January, the Portsmouth coach drove up to Major Shafto’s door. The Diceys were breakfasting at the house, for Harry Shafto’s leave was up, and he was to take Willy with him on board the “Ranger,” then lying in Portsmouth harbour. Farewells were said, fond embraces exchanged, for Harry, though a tall young man, was not ashamed to kiss his mother again and again, and his dear young sisters; nor did Willy mind the tears which trickled unbidden from his eyes. His heart was very full; though he had so longed to go to sea, now that he was actually going, he felt that he should be ready, if required, to give up all his bright hopes, and stay at home.

In spite of the cold, the whole family came out and stood at the door while the two young sailors mounted to the top of the coach. “All right,” shouted the guard, as the last article of luggage was handed up. The coachman gave a gentle lash to his horses, and the lads, standing up, turned round to give a last fond look at all those they loved so well.

This, it must be understood, was some time before Charles Dicey and his sisters started on their more important expedition. The young sailors expected to be home again in little more than a year, or perhaps even in less time, for the “Ranger” was a Government troop-ship, with the usual officers and crew, however, of a sloop-of-war. Harry Shafto would have preferred being in a dashing frigate, but, at the same time, he was glad to serve under so worthy a captain as Commander Newcombe.

Harry and his young companion, on their arrival at Portsmouth, went to the “Blue Posts,”—not an aristocratic hotel, certainly, but one resorted to in those days by the junior officers of the service. Willy felt very proud of his new uniform, and could not help handling his dirk as he sat by Harry Shafto’s side in the coffee-room. Several midshipmen and masters’ assistants came in. Two or three who took their seats at the same table asked Willy to what ship he belonged. “To the ‘Ranger’,” he answered proudly; “and a very fine ship she is.”

“Oh, ay, a lobster carrier,” observed a young midshipman, in a squeaky voice. “I have heard of old Newcombe. He is the savage fellow who tars and feathers his midshipmen if they get the ship in irons, or cannot box the compass when he tells them to do it.”

“I have been told, on the contrary, that he is a very kind man,” answered Willy; “and as to getting the ship in irons or boxing the compass, I do not think he would allow either the one thing or the other.”

“What! do you mean to call my word in question, youngster?” exclaimed the midshipman. “Do you know who I am?”

“Tell him you think he has eaten a good deal of the stuff they feed geese on,” whispered Harry.

Willy did as he was advised. The midshipman on this got very angry, especially when all his companions laughed at him, and advised him to let the “young chip” alone, as there was evidently an “old block” at his elbow, who was not likely to stand nonsense. At last the midshipman, who said that his name was Peter Patch, acknowledged that he himself had just been appointed to the “Ranger,” and that he believed old Newcombe to be a very good sort of a fellow, considering what officers generally are.

Next morning, after breakfast, Harry and his young companion went on board their ship, and Harry