During working hours the cadets were kept hard at it with the hands. The Old Man and the Chief spared none. If there was no necessary work to be done they made some, putting the cadets to scraping and varnishing woodwork till they loathed the sight of scrapers and varnish brushes. They were put on to black down the standing-rigging, a messy, thankless job; they were told off to "interior decorations", namely to paint out the cabins under the poop-deck, until even Fairclough remarked, "I almost wish I'd had my skull cracked like Kelso."
All circumstances considered, perhaps the Third Officer was to be envied. For three days he had been delirious with concussion of the brain, during which time those in attendance upon him knew almost the complete history of the Third's career in the Mercantile Marine! But Kelso had been taken ashore and was making a good recovery with the additional benefit of enjoying the unbounded hospitality of a prominent Government official on the strength of the Third once having met his host's son in Hong Kong.
At length the long-drawn out repairs were effected, a small amount of cotton cargo received on board and a full clearance and a clean bill of health obtained from the Port Authorities.
Then, joy of joys! Blue Peter fluttered from the fore. Scorning to employ the motor capstan, willing hands manned the capstan bars and to the lilt of a fiddle the rusty cable began to come home inch by inch.
Late that afternoon, the Golden Vanity was bowling along under all plain sail and with the foam frothing at her cutwater. Aft a clean wake trailed away in the direction of the setting sun, the red rays of which tinted the bellying canvas with rosy hues.
Geoff and Bernard were pacing the poop-deck. Gone were the discomforts of port. Their spirits were as buoyant as the good ship under their feet.
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Bernard.
His chum stopped in his walk, braced his shoulders and gazed at the towering spread of canvas.
"A man's job," he replied. "Who could wish for anything better than this?"
A month later the Golden Vanity, her sails furled for the last time that voyage, was ascending London River in the wake of a powerful tug. Somewhat to Geoff's disappointment the orders to unload at Southampton had been countermanded—by no means an unusual occurrence as far as the Mercantile Marine is concerned—but what mattered? The ship was nearly Home, with a capital H.
Her progress up to St. Katherine's Dock savoured of a triumph. Outbound steamers greeted her with blasts upon their syrens. The training ships off Greenhithe and Purfleet gave her rousing cheers Fearon of the New York Mail had not let the grass grow under his feet, and his account as published afterwards caused blushes to suffuse the tanned features of Captain Corbold.
The voyage was ended, but Geoff had learnt by this time that not only is patience a virtue but a necessity. A week elapsed before the cargo was unstowed and the good old Golden Vanity dismantled ready to be handed over to the ship-repairers for extensive overhaul.
Then and only then were the cadets allowed to go on leave, and in due course Geoff was received with enthusiastic welcome by his parents, brothers, and sisters.
Although the Golden Vanity's fight with hurricane and fire was already known through the medium of the Press, Geoff had still plenty to relate. In fact he was kept hard at it for the rest of the evening answering questions and describing his adventures.
"You're a hero, Geoff," declared his youngest sister.
"Not at all," he replied. "I've learnt to pull my weight, that's all. Sort of team work really."
Mr. Ensor said little but thought the more. Geoff was not the same Geoff who had gone off for a yachting cruise so light-heartedly, but four months ago—there was a sort of quiet confidence that certainly wasn't noticeable when last he saw him.
And since Geoff had gained confidence his father realized that he had lost some of his, when, after the others had gone to bed, he tentatively broached the subject on his mind.
"I suppose, Geoff, now you've roughed it, you'll be glad to settle down, eh?" he began.
"Settle down, Pater?" echoed his son. "Well, I've a week's leave. The owners have offered me a permanent cadetship—so they have Bernard, and his father's let him take it up—and I hope you don't mind."
"But the firm of Ensor & Son, Geoff? My cherished wish?"
Geoff stood up and placed one hand on his father's shoulder, realized that somehow his parent had appeared to have visibly shrunk in height and frame.
"Sorry, Pater," he said earnestly. "It wouldn't work. Round peg in a square hole an' all that sort of thing. There's Dick. He's rather keen on Law, I believe."
Yes, there was Dick. His young brother could fill the gap and carry on with Ensor & Son. That was some consolation.
"You're still keen on the sea?" asked Mr. Ensor, on the point of capitulation.
Visions of lively Rio Harbour, of the Vanity threshing to windward or running free before the favouring Trades flashed across Geoff's mind. They were live, unforgettable pictures. The "sticky times" hardly entered into the composition of the view at all.
"Rather," he declared. "And I suppose I'm fairly good at it or the owners wouldn't be keen to sign me on."
"I suppose there's no more to be said, Geoff. You ought to know your own mind by this time. Probably you do. We must make the best of it."
"That's what I intend to do, Pater," replied his eldest son cheerfully.
Notes
hyphenation, spelling and grammar have been preserved as in the original
Page 18, 'Can't say as I knows ==> "Can't say as I knows
Page 46, added. 'But she's a pig ==> added. "But she's a pig
Page 119, 'Hop aft and see him ==> "Hop aft and see him
Page 127, She's the Blue Bird ==> "She's the Blue Bird
Page 137, 'Very good, sir ==> "Very good, sir
Page 179, 'I'd slipped out ==> "I'd slipped out
Page 190, said Fairclough ==> said Fairclough.
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Title: Chums of the "Golden Vanity"
Date of first publication: 1927
Author: Percy Francis Westerman (1876-1959)
Date first posted: June 15 2012
Date last updated: June 15 2012
Faded Page eBook #20120623
This ebook was produced by:
David T. Jones, Ross Cooling, Al Haines &