her long train of black smoke above the mist. Holloaing all together we heard an answer which might have been in Chaldee, but the slackened speed of the steam-packet quickly showed that we, at least, were understood, and we pulled hard to get alongside. It was rather a difficult operation, with the waves running high, but we were none of us bad climbers, and soon gained the deck of the steam packet, and “Go on a-head” was passed down to the engine-room.
“When shall you get to Rotterdam?” asked Tom of one of those amphibious sailors, neither landsman nor seaman, who are to be found in the debateable water of London Bridge, and are nautical or land-lubberish according as they wear a sou’-wester, or a wide-awake.
“We’re a goin’ to Calais,” he rejoined; adding, with the most unsympathetic coolness, “you’ve bin an’ got aboard the wrong boat, you ’ave, you wanted the Batavier, she’ll be about ’arf-an-hour arter us.”
I think he was a little annoyed to see how stoically we accepted our destiny. There were plenty of spare berths in the fore-cabin, and we quickly took possession of a shelf a-piece. To this day I have a sort of feeling, that in a moment we were transported from the Nore, to the still waters of Calais harbour. But Paynter declares he heard me snoring, and the inference is that I fell unconsciously asleep.
But now our real troubles began. We were soon in the Douane, worried by hotel touters, and watching the searchers as they thrust their hands into our little leathern bags. We had entirely forgotten all about passports (this was in the days before passports were superfluous), and now an official, with spectacles and a sword between his legs, was standing before us, demanding the necessary accompaniment. We were marched hither and thither, up-stairs and down-stairs, interrogated, examined, and cross-questioned, until at length, after what was to us a considerable drain upon our exchequer, we became the happy possessors of a document, that, under the hand of a consul, bade the subjects of the Emperor to admit to all the realm of France the four young Englishmen whose eyes, noses, and general physical appearance were specified below. We passed, by-the-by, as a pair of brothers, and it often taxed our memories to remember who we were. At length we regained our luggage, and soon found ourselves within the walls of Calais. We spent the night there, and early the next morning took the train to St. Omer, where Tom betook him to the classic emporium of “the pipes of Fiolet,” while the rest of us strolled about with a vague idea of seeing the Jesuit College.
We were bent upon going to Holland, and as we did not wish to beg our way through Belgium, we felt we must get on. So we travelled on the same day to Ghent, having our passports viséd at a place on the road, principally memorable for its beer. How thoroughly we enjoyed the foreign air of the old town; innocent yet, by 10l. odd, of any care for the future, we rambled through its quaint streets, peopling in our talk the gabled houses with the burghers of the olden time, when this was one of the centres of European industry. We walked through its splendid churches, and for the first time saw a religious procession, with, I can say, thoughtless as we were, a decent reverence for a faith which was not our own.
But “Excelsior,” or rather “au Pays Bas,” was the stern moral of our financial position, and Antwerp was our next halting-place. We have since sojourned in many cities, but recall few more interesting than this. After two happy days which we could have wished twenty, my brother, who acted as courier, being the only one of the party able to speak French, was set about inquiring the mode of proceeding to Rotterdam. We were glad to hear that we were to drive the whole distance by diligence, and accordingly secured four places. I have a strong suspicion that we were cheated at the coach-office mercilessly, as between guilders and francs Geoffrey’s financial ideas were much confused. At all events, we were greatly dismayed on learning that after our seats were paid for, there remained only a sum equal to about ten shillings, which seemed, even to us, rather a slender provision for four persons intending to make a tour through the Netherlands.
How the weakness of such a position would worry some of us now, when to travel we must be sure that our circular letters are pretty round and all right, and our passports, if needed, safely secured in a neat leathern case, guaranteeing the immediate protection of the Secretary for Foreign Affairs. We took our seats in the queer-shaped diligence, a jumbling compound of a railway carriage, a stage coach, and a mail phaeton, leaving all to come right of itself, and thought only of the pleasure of seeing the Dutchmen at home.
At night, we arrived at Breda, where on behalf of the King of Holland, and in consequence of the inferior “chic” of our passport, we underwent a very rigorous examination. However, I suspect our characters and our designs were written pretty legibly in our faces and manner; and, at last, in guttural accents, the officer graciously announced his contentment. We were free to invade the Netherlands. But the diligence would stop at Breda for the night, and we were not equal to an hotel bill. At this moment an obvious thought struck Fred:
“I’ll go and ask the fellow to let us sleep in the diligence,” said he, and out he ran.
But the conductor was obdurate, and probably fearful of losing his occasional glass of schnaps from the hotel-keeper, obliged us to retreat to the salle-à-manger. It was then ten o’clock, and as the diligence started at five a. m., we might very well dispense with going to bed. After a supper in which we studiously avoided any expensive dishes, we ordered a bottle of the liquor of the country, and assumed rather than felt a jolly determination to make a night of it. We agreed, too, that when the waiter was gone, we would divide the chairs, and at least make believe we were in bed.
The landlord was certainly desirous that we should try his bedding, but we resisted his invitation, retentive of our last few guilders, saying we should certainly lose the diligence if we did so, and had our own way. Morning will follow night, however uncomfortably its dark hours may pass,