Robert Cassall was silently ecstatic now
that the pinch of his work was over; and he had good reason to be proud,
for no prettier or more serviceable piece of work was ever bought with
money, and no man on earth need have grudged to exchange the costly
obscurity of the monumental stone, for this beautiful memorial which
promised to be the pride of the North Sea.
The riggers went hard at work; the captain and crew were sent on board
to assist, and thus before the autumn storms broke once more, the
_Robert Cassall_ was ready for sea.
The whole fabric seemed to have risen like a vision, and the most
hopeful of those who endured that cruel gale the year before could
hardly believe that they were not deceived by some uneasy, uncanny
dream.
The steamer surged away past the pier on her first trip, and a dense
black crowd cheered and shouted blessings after her.
"Ah! they jeered me the first time I sailed from here under that flag.
Thank God for the wonderful change," said Fullerton. "Never mind
bygones. There's a good stiff sea outside. Let us watch how she takes
it."
The sturdy old man was triumphant, satisfied with himself and his work,
and he only wished to see how the contrivance of his audacious, teeming
brain would succeed. Tom Lennard was on board again; and he only
recovered from a congestion of adjectives on the brain, after he had
fairly freed his nerves by smoking a pipe. He was still subdued, and he
never let loose that booming laugh of his except on supremely important
occasions.
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