We might have waited for the next, but that would have been for a month, and I want to get back home again, Nic; so, as Sir John's name was enough to get me what I wanted, I settled we'd go in the _Northumbrian_, which is taking out a lot of convicts." Nic's brow grew rugged.
"But there's a big draft of the 300th Regiment and their officers too, and they'll take care of us, boy, so you won't mind." "Oh! no," cried Nic, "I shall not mind." In fact, he failed to see what there would be to mind, for it did not occur to him that it might be unpleasant and awkward for the governor's wife.
The bustle of departure had commenced when they reached the dock, and the quay swarmed with the friends and relatives of the company of infantry off on foreign service, while dock officials were busy issuing the orders which began to take effect a few minutes after Nic had seen Lady O'Hara into her cabin and hurried back on deck to gaze on the novel scene.
For hawsers were being secured round posts, men were leaving, a couple of boats were out ahead ready to tow, and soon the great three-masted vessel began to move slowly along by the quay to the great gates, with the soldiers cheering and waving their caps, and shouts and cries rising from those being left behind, till the gates were passed, and the long narrow channel between stone walls gave place to the river, with its tide at the height; the faces began to grow smaller and smaller, and soon the _Northumbrian_, with her littered decks and bustle and confusion, began to drop slowly down with the tide.
There was plenty to see as well as plenty to learn.

The first thing was to be able to see in peace, and to do this Nic found he had to learn to get out of the way of the men busy lowering down packages, getting rid of the litter of the deck, and blunderingly making matters shipshape-- blunderingly, for the crew, almost without exception, were suffering from the effects of their holiday ashore, and were working the mate and boatswain into a state of red-hot indignation at the slow progress made.
The latter, too, a big, burly, red-faced man with stiff whiskers, was every now and then asking people how he could be expected to have clear decks when his ship was being turned into a farmyard.
This recalled the live stock on board, and Nic went forward to have a look at the cattle in their pens, where they were contentedly enough munching away at the hay placed ready for them, while the dogs, which recognised Nic, began to tug furiously at their chains, and made their eyes seem ready to start from their heads as they tried to strangle themselves by straining at their collars.
Nic was leaning over the pen in which they were chained up, patting and caressing them, when a gruff voice cried fiercely: "Those dogs yours ?" "Not exactly.

They're for Sir John O'Hara." "Then I wish he'd got 'em.

Who's to move with all these things on board ?" "What's, the matter, Buller ?" said a bronzed man, coming up.
"Matter, sir?
everything.

There isn't a man aboard fit to pull a rope, and I can't move without breaking my shins over cats and dogs, and all this here Tower mynadgery.