CHAPTER VII.

THE "OHIO" COMES IN.

Dick Lester and his mother never had any very clear idea of how they passed that day in Perth. Lunch filled up an hour; then they took a hansom and drove to the beautiful public gardens, and wandered about them, and at intervals took out their precious wireless and read it again, as if expecting to find some new remark tucked in among its six brief words. In the evening Mr. Warner took them to a theatre--Mrs. Warner declining to be again separated from the twinses. Presumably it was a good play, for Mr. Warner and Merle seemed to enjoy it, but neither Mrs. Lester nor Dick could have told you what it was about. The wireless also went to the theatre, in Dick's pocket. He had asked his mother if he might keep it.

"Rather a curio, when you've never seen a wireless before, you see," he explained, in an elaborately off-hand manner. Mrs. Lester had nodded comprehendingly, a little sad at heart, for she would certainly have liked to keep it herself. Dick went to bed, declaring that he could not sleep; his eyes so bright that Mrs. Lester was half afraid that his belief was true, but when, half an hour later, she peeped into his room he was lying peacefully with his head on his arm, already far away in the land of dreams. She sat down in a chair near his open window, feeling the need of companionship, if only that of a sleeping little son. It was moonlight; from the high window she could catch a glimpse of the river, a streak of silver. Beyond it her mind flashed out to sea, where a great ship ploughed landwards, and on its deck a man paced up and down, gripping his pipe in his teeth, and striving with his mind to bridge the few miles that yet lay between him and his dear ones. Possibly he succeeded, for thoughts often fly further than we know. After an hour Mrs. Lester's wakefulness left her, and she stole to bed, drowsy and content.

Breakfast in the morning was a scramble, for they woke late, and were both quite unable to think of anything so ordinary as food. Dick put salt into his tea and sugar on his fish, and would probably have consumed both without noticing anything amiss had not the waiter intervened in horror. Mr. Warner ordered a car for them, and very soon they were flying down the road, that seemed oddly familiar. It was early; but then, as Dick said, the _Ohio_ might be early too. Dick was not acquainted with the clock-work methods of mail steamers. He dashed breathlessly on to the wharf at Fremantle to ask if the _Ohio_ were in, and was met with bored surprise by a man in a blue jersey, who said, "The _Ohio_? But she don't come in till ten"--much as a railway porter might answer if you demanded the Sydney express an hour too soon. Dick returned ruefully to the car.

"No sign of her, mother. It really will be ten o'clock."

"I was afraid so," said his mother, laughing, while the chauffeur grinned broadly. "Jump in and we'll go for a spin while we wait."

Dick would have preferred to stay on the wharf, straining his eyes to the horizon. But he obeyed, and they went careering over strange roads that neither saw, though the sense of swift motion helped them in a measure. Still, it was a relief when at length the car turned, and again they spun towards the pier. The chauffeur had judged his time well; the wharf was crowded now, and, just beyond the breakwater, a great ship loomed through a little drifting mist.

"That's her," said the chauffeur, half-turning. "Steady--it'll take her a quarter of an hour to get aside yet." This to Dick, who was wrestling with a stiff door-handle before the car could stop.

They edged through the throng on the pier to where a dock-hand told them the mail steamer's gangway would come down. She was close in now, they could see sailors on board getting the great gangway ready. The passengers were crowding along every yard of the deck railing; it was impossible to pick out one face amidst the mass, no matter how hard they might strain their eyes. Everywhere, people were waving to their friends ashore, shouting, coo-eeing; Dick coo-ee'd too, but with a kind of helpless irritation at being unable to see the only face that mattered. The minutes dragged on, while the ship edged her way in, yard by yard; and still they scanned her decks in vain.

"Oh, mother, isn't it awful?" Dick's voice had a quiver in it. "Do you think he's really there?"

"Of course he's there, son." The voice was little more than a whisper.

Suddenly, and together, they saw him. The crowd was densest on the deck near the gangway, but he must have taken up his position very early, for he was in front of everyone, talking to the officer in charge of the landing operations. He towered over the other people; six foot three of lean, muscular activity, with a clean-shaven face, bronzed and keen. Dick heard his mother catch her breath, and he slipped his hand through her arm. Then, as if their upward gaze drew him, John Lester turned and looked down, straight into their eyes. His cap was pulled low on his brow, but they saw the sudden light that sprang into his face--the quick smile that was a caress, singling them out from the crowd. He took off his cap with a swift movement, and stood bareheaded, his eyes never moving from his wife and son. So they stood, until, with a rattle, the gangway came down--and while it still shook from the impact, John Lester ran down it lightly, the first man to leave the _Ohio_. He put an arm round them both, hustling them gently towards the gangway.

"Come up," he said, a little breathlessly. "I've squared the man on top."

The officer greeted them with a smile as they mounted--it was against rules, but John Lester had a way of getting what he wanted. He edged a way for them through the crowding passengers with courteous little apologies; somehow they found themselves in the clear space behind the throng, hurrying along the deck--and in a moment they were in a single-berth deck-cabin, and the door was shut, and he was holding them as if he could never let them go.

"A year!" he said. "Well, don't let either of you think you're ever going to get rid of me again!" He scanned his wife deliberately.

"A bit thin, I think," he said. "But you haven't let her get any older, Dick. She hasn't grown up yet."

"Not she!" said Dick.

"To read her letters you might almost think she had--sometimes. I used to be a little anxious about it. I wouldn't know her if she grew up!" His arm tightened round her, and the keen eyes turned to Dick, dwelling on the well-knit, active figure.

"It's you who have done the growing up, old son," he said. "I left a little kiddie--but you aren't that now. Is he too big to be hugged, do you think, mother?"

"He's not!" said Dick, and proved that he was not.

"Well, that's all right," said Mr. Lester, with a great sigh. He sat down on the sofa, and drew one down on each side, holding them closely. The time flew by unheeded; they talked, more or less incoherently, occasionally falling into silence that was as satisfying as talk, since they were together again.

A tap came to the door an hour later--a steward, with telegrams. Mr. Lester glanced over them.

"Just greetings," he said. "I must answer them, though. Dick, can you find a telegraph office here?"

"Rather," said Dick. "I can go in the car."

"Good gracious!" said his mother, faintly. "I forgot the car!"

"What--have you one waiting? Well, it's a nice day for it!" said her husband placidly. He was scribbling answers. "Here you are, old chap, and here's the money. Sure you can manage?"

"Of course he can," said Mrs. Lester. "Hasn't he been looking after me ever since you went away?"

"I'll take up my job again," he said, as the door closed behind Dick.

The chauffeur welcomed the boy with some relief.

"Thought you were never comin'," he remarked. "Well, did 'e get here all right?"

"Rather!" Dick answered.

"So I should think, by your face," quoth the chauffeur. "Beamin's no name for it. Well, where to now?"

"Telegraph office," said Dick, getting in beside him. They whirred up through the busy streets, while the chauffeur discoursed learnedly on the ways of motors, in terms which were Greek to Dick though he tried to conceal the fact. He tried once to divert the conversation to horses, but the chauffeur said loftily, "Oh, 'orses is out of date, unless it's on a racecourse!"--which made Dick gasp with disgust.

"I'd sooner have my Tinker than all your jolly old cars!" said he. To which the chauffeur responded, "Oh, you'll grow out of that!" in a manner so intensely superior that Dick writhed beneath it. He was glad when they reached the telegraph office, and he could dash in and write out his telegrams. There were dozens of other people on the same errand, most of them from the mail steamer. Dick had to wait his turn, and, as he was a slow writer, it was some time before he could finish; after which a very fat lady blocked him at the counter until he was almost dancing with impatience. He got through at last, and hurried the chauffeur back to the wharf.

His father and mother did not seem to notice that he had been long away. They were still sitting together on the sofa. John Lester looked at his son with a glance at once tender and proud.

"Come here, old chap," he said. He put his hand on Dick's shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Mother has been telling me," he said, and stopped; something seemed to make speech not easy. "About your swim after that small boy. I'm proud of my son, Dick."

Dick reddened furiously.

"Oh, it wasn't anything," he mumbled. "A chap couldn't see the poor kid go in, and not go after him."

"No, of course you couldn't. Still I'm glad you thought quickly--and moved quickly. Was it very cold?

"Oh, beastly!" said Dick, with a reminiscent shiver. "You couldn't imagine how cold, father! I didn't seem to be able to kick or do anything, after the first minute. I thought I could just swim back to the ship with him, as easy as wink, but my word, I couldn't!"

"A good thing you didn't have to try," said John Lester, his grip on Dick's shoulder tightening. "Well, all's well that ends well, anyhow. Now how about getting up to Perth?"

Dick hesitated.

"Could I have a look round the ship first, father?"

"Why, of course you can. Come along."

They explored the great mail steamer thoroughly--meeting, on their tour, the captain himself, who took them over his quarters and up on the towering bridge. Behind Dick's back he asked Mr. Lester in an undertone:

"Is that the small boy who's been diving off the _Moondarra_?"

"Yes, that's the culprit," Mr. Lester answered in some surprise. "How did you know?"

"Why, there's half a column about him in the Perth morning papers."

"Good gracious!" ejaculated Mr. Lester. "I trust he won't hear about it."

"Well, you ought to be proud," said the captain severely. "If I had a kid like that----"

"I'm proud enough," said John Lester. "But I don't make a song about it to Dick. He takes it as the most ordinary thing--only beastly cold!" He shuddered. "Good Lord--when I think how nearly I might never have seen him again!"

"Yes," said the captain, staring at Dick. "Great kid. Rough on his mother, too--paper said she was looking on." He opened a cupboard and solemnly presented Dick with a little ebony elephant. "There's an Indian beastie, for luck," he said. "You can teach him to swim----" At which Dick turned scarlet, and fled, cutting short his thanks. He had hoped to leave such annoying reminders on the _Moondarra_.

But there was a more substantial reminder in store for him that night, when he was dressing for dinner in the hotel. A tap on his door heralded Bobby Warner, very pink and important, bearing a little parcel.

"Daddy said I was to give you this myself," he said. "And he and mummy send veir love wiv it, cause you jumped into the water after me. I say, can I open ve parcel for you? I does love opening parcels!"

"Right oh!" said the puzzled Dick, vigorously towelling his face and head.

"It's a tick-tick, but you has to be vewy sp'rised," explained Bobby, kindly, fumbling with the string. "I fink I ought to have one, too, 'cause I was in the water wiv you. Oo-oh, it's tumbled!"

It had, but no further than the hearthrug on which he was sitting. Dick, who had had a vague idea that the small boy was carrying sweets, suddenly made a jump towards a little glittering heap that had slipped from its white tissue paper A beautiful gold watch and chain--no boy's watch but a man's; inside the hunting case his own name, with a brief inscription:

"To remember the _Moondarra_."

The date followed, and the Warners' initials. Dick stared at it blankly.

"It's a pwetty tick-tick, isn't it?" Bobby remarked, placidly. "Daddy has one like it, only ve twinses gave it to ve goat. I wouldn't let vem have yours, if I was you."

"I say, they oughtn't to," murmured Dick, still blankly looking at the watch. He did not refer to the twinses, but Bobby was satisfied.

"Vat's what daddy said when he got his back from ye goat," he remarked. "She had nearly etted it--it's all funny wiv her toof marks now. Where's you goin', Dick?"

Dick had plunged out into the hall in his shirt-sleeves, his wet hair standing on end, the watch and chain in his hand. There he ran into Mr. Warner, whose memories of the twinses' methods with watches possibly made him a little anxious at having made Bobby a messenger.

"I say, sir, you shouldn't!" blurted Dick miserably.

"Shouldn't what?"

"This." Dick held out the watch, looking very much as if he had received a beating. "I--I didn't do anything."

"Well, you can look at it that way if you like, old man," said Bobby's father. "I look at it another--it seems to me I'd have no Bobby to-night but for you. And I have a value for Bobby. Don't you worry, anyhow. Just remember that you spoiled a good suit of clothes on his account, and got jolly wet and cold; and that we're goin' to be good friends always." He patted Dick's wet head, reassuringly. "I say, what about this father of yours? Am I going to meet him?"

"Rather!" said Dick. "He's in his room. I ought to be getting ready, I suppose."

"I'll come with you and rescue Bobby," said Mr. Warner.

They found Bobby gloriously happy over the forbidden joy of Dick's pocket knife, and presently, leaving him with the twinses and their nurse, went downstairs together. At the foot of the staircase stood John Lester, smoking. Dick's confused introduction was scarcely necessary. The two men gripped hands over his head.

"I owe your boy a heap," Mr. Warner said.

"I'm glad he was handy," Dick's father answered.

Which was all that either said upon the matter. Instead, they talked stock and station, crops and weather, horses and dogs; all the bush talk of Australia, from which John Lester had been exiled. The talk began in the hall before dinner--they sat at adjoining tables, and continued in the lounge afterwards. Dick sat near, blissfully content; it was the talk that he, too, loved to hear, and Mrs. Lester lay back in a great easy-chair, watching her husband's face. It lit up wonderfully when he talked; he leaned forward, asking eager questions, drinking in the other man's slow speech. After a time he turned to Mrs. Warner, apologetically.

"I shouldn't let you in for so much 'shop,' should I?" His smile was as boyish as Dick's. "But you have no idea what it means to hear Australian talk again. I haven't enjoyed anything so much for ages."

"You are very glad to be back?"

"Glad!" He gave an expressive shrug of his broad shoulders. "Well, I knew I was homesick, but I didn't know how badly until I got here."

"He has lain flat on the grass in the wildest corner of the gardens all the afternoon, looking at the gum trees," Mrs. Lester said, laughing.

"So would you, if you hadn't seen one for a year." His eyes dwelt on her tenderly. "Of course, I did see blue gums now and then; they grow them in big gardens--funny leggy things, that never look quite healthy or quite right, somehow. They let them get too tall and spindly, and then the winter gales break them to pieces. I used to preach the advantages of lopping their tops when young, but the English can't bring themselves to do it. It's good to come back and see the old things growing as they were meant to grow."

"So Australia is still good enough for you?" Mr. Warner asked.

"Quite good enough. I'll go back some day, and take my wife and Dick; I want to show them everything on the other side--and possibly then I shan't be so homesick. But we'll come back again. And I don't want to think of starting for a very long while!"

He finished with a little smile at his wife.

"You don't know the West?" Mr. Warner said.

"No--not at all. I've only passed through on my way to England."

"Well, look here----" Mr. Warner leaned forward eagerly. "My wife and I were thinking how delightful it would be for us if you three would come up with us to Narrung Downs. We could show you some unfamiliar country--the wild flowers should be at their best now, Mrs. Lester--and I think you'd be interested in the working of a Western place. There are some fairly decent horses that Dick might try. What do you think of our plan?"

John Lester hesitated, looking at his wife.

"It sounds delightful--many thanks," he said. "But I don't know about inflicting such a party upon you."

"Oh--!" Mrs. Warner brushed this aside. "We have such a barrack of a house; and servants of a kind, even if they are mostly blacks. We know you would make allowances for the shortcomings of the bush, wouldn't you, Mrs. Lester?"

"I don't think they would exist for me," Mrs. Lester said. "It's a lovely plan, Mrs. Warner; I don't know how to thank you."

"Would you like to come up into the back country, Dick?" inquired Mr. Warner.

Dick's eyes were round.

"My word, wouldn't I!" he uttered. Everyone laughed.

"Well, think it over," Mr. Warner said. "We don't leave for three days; that would give you time to look round Perth and the country near here. We shall be more than pleased if we can take you back with us." They drifted away, murmuring something about writing letters.

"What do you think, Jean? Shall we go?"

Mrs. Lester smiled up at her husband.

"You must decide," she said. "I'm just like an absolutely contented and placid old cow at the moment----"

"I never saw you look less like anything," he said. "Go on, however."

"But I am, John. I have everything I want in the world; you aren't in England, and Dick isn't drowned, and nothing can possibly matter. Whereever we may be doesn't seem to signify in the least. Would you like to go?"

"Yes; I think so," he said. "They're nice people, and it would be good experience for the boy. You'd like it, Dick?"

"I think it would be ripping, father," said Dick eagerly. "After all, once we get back to Victoria we'll be a long time there, won't we?"

"That's a highly philosophic remark," said his father, laughing. "All right, old son; we'll go."