Bob heard all this with a manner of preoccupation, and soon retired to the mill. Thence he went to his room by the back passage, and taking his old seafaring garments from a dark closet in the wall conveyed them to the loft at the top of the mill, where he occupied the remaining spare moments of the day in brushing the mildew from their folds, and hanging each article by the window to get aired.
In the evening he returned to the loft, and dressing himself in the old salt suit, went out of the house unobserved by anybody, and ascended the road towards Captain Hardy's native village and present temporary home.
The shadeless downs were now brown with the droughts of the passing summer, and few living things met his view, the natural rotundity of the elevation being only occasionally disturbed by the presence of a barrow, a thorn-bush, or a piece of dry wall which remained from some attempted enclosure. By the time that he reached the village it was dark, and the larger stars had begun to shine when he walked up to the door of the old-fashioned house which was the family residence of this branch of the South-Wessex Hardys.
'Will the captain allow me to wait on him to-night?' inquired Loveday, explaining who and what he was.
The servant went away for a few minutes, and then told Bob that he might see the captain in the morning.
'If that's the case, I'll come again,' replied Bob, quite cheerful that failure was not absolute.
He had left the door but a few steps when he was called back and asked if he had walked all the way from Overcombe Mill on purpose.
Loveday replied modestly that he had done so.
'Then will you come in?. He followed the speaker into a small study or office, and in a minute or two Captain Hardy entered.
The captain at this time was a bachelor of thirty-five, rather stout in build, with light eyes, bushy eyebrows, a square broad face, plenty of chin, and a mouth whose corners played between humour and grimness. He surveyed Loveday from top to toe.
'Robert Loveday, sir, son of the miller at Overcombe,' said Bob, making a low bow.
'Ah. I remember your father, Loveday,' the gallant seaman replied.
'Well, what do you want to say to me?. Seeing that Bob found it rather difficult to begin, he leant leisurely against the mantelpiece, and went on, 'Is your father well and hearty. I have not seen him for many, many years.'
'Quite well, thank 'ee.'
'You used to have a brother in the army, I think. What was his name--John. A very fine fellow, if I recollect.'
'Yes, cap'n; he's there still.'
'And you are in the merchant-service?'
'Late first mate of the brig Pewit.'
'How is it you're not on board a man-of-war?'
'Ay, sir, that's the thing I've come about,' said Bob, recovering confidence. 'I should have been, but 'tis womankind has hampered me. I've waited and waited on at home because of a young woman-- lady, I might have said, for she's sprung from a higher class of society than I. Her father was a landscape painter--maybe you've heard of him, sir. The name is Garland.'
'He painted that view of our village here,' said Captain Hardy, looking towards a dark little picture in the corner of the room.
Bob looked, and went on, as if to the picture, 'Well, sir, I have found that-. However, the press-gang came a week or two ago, and didn't get hold of me. I didn't care to go aboard as a pressed man.'
'There has been a severe impressment. It is of course a disagreeable necessity, but it can't be helped.'
'Since then, sir, something has happened that makes me wish they had found me, and I have come to-night to ask if I could enter on board your ship the Victory.'
The captain shook his head severely, and presently observed. 'I am glad to find that you think of entering the service, Loveday; smart men are badly wanted. But it will not be in your power to choose your ship.'
'Well, well, sir; then I must take my chance elsewhere,' said Bob, his face indicating the disappointment he would not fully express.
''Twas only that I felt I would much rather serve under you than anybody else, my father and all of us being known to ye, Captain Hardy, and our families belonging to the same parts.'
Captain Hardy took Bob's altitude more carefully. 'Are you a good practical seaman?' he asked musingly.
'Ay, sir; I believe I am.'
'Active. Fond of skylarking?'
'Well, I don't know about the last. I think I can say I am active enough. I could walk the yard-arm, if required, cross from mast to mast by the stays, and do what most fellows do who call themselves spry.'
The captain then put some questions about the details of navigation, which Loveday, having luckily been used to square rigs, answered satisfactorily. 'As to reefing topsails,' he added, 'if I don't do it like a flash of lightning, I can do it so that they will stand blowing weather. The Pewit was not a dull vessel, and when we were convoyed home from Lisbon, she could keep well in sight of the frigate scudding at a distance, by putting on full sail. We had enough hands aboard to reef topsails man-o'-war fashion, which is a rare thing in these days, sir, now that able seamen are so scarce on trading craft. And I hear that men from square-rigged vessels are liked much the best in the navy, as being more ready for use. So that I shouldn't be altogether so raw,' said Bob earnestly, 'if I could enter on your ship, sir. Still, if I can't, I can't.'
'I might ask for you, Loveday,' said the captain thoughtfully, 'and so get you there that way. In short, I think I may say I will ask for you. So consider it settled.'
'My thanks to you, sir,' said Loveday.
'You are aware that the Victory is a smart ship, and that cleanliness and order are, of necessity, more strictly insisted upon there than in some others?'
'Sir, I quite see it.'
'Well, I hope you will do your duty as well on a line-of-battle ship as you did when mate of the brig, for it is a duty that may be serious.'
