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Updated: May 19, 2025
Between them they loaded and fired the bow signal-guns several times, by which means they brought a few fishermen and coastguard-men to the scene of disaster. And among these, as we have seen, were our heroes, Philip Maylands and George Aspel. On arriving, these two found that the rocket apparatus was being set up on the beach.
She heard only the booming of the great sea, and saw her mother seated by the fire darning socks, with Madge engaged in household work, and Phil tumbling with baby-brother on the floor, making new holes and rents for fresh darns and patches. Mrs Maylands was a student and lover of the Bible. Her children, though a good deal wilder, were sweet-tempered like herself.
Young Maylands would have passed the house, but as Grady was an intimate friend of George Aspel, he agreed to stop just to shake hands. Patrick Grady was the soul of hospitality. He was not to be put off with a mere shake of the hand, not he telegrams meant nothing now-a-days, he said, everybody sent them. No cause for alarm. They must stop and have a glass of mountain dew.
"You see, mother," he said that night, after Aspel had left the cottage and May had gone to her room, "it will never do to let her kill herself over the telegraph instrument. She's too delicately formed for such work. We must find something better suited to her." "Yes, Phil, we must find something better suited to her. Good-night," replied Mrs Maylands.
Bones was startled by his sudden entrance. "Well, good-night, sir, we'll talk that matter over some other time," he said quickly, pulling his wideawake well over his face as he went out, and giving the message-boy a prolonged stare. The boy paid no regard to him, but, turning to Aspel, introduced himself as Peter Pax. "What! the comrade-in-arms of my friend Phil Maylands?" asked Aspel.
When we've got that done we shall soon put soul into the body, what with debates, an' readings, an' lectures, an' maybe a soiree now and then, with music and speeches, to say nothing of tea an' cakes." As Phil Maylands warmed with his subject his friend became excited. He ceased to chaff and raise objections, and finally began to see the matter through Phil's rose-coloured glasses.
The evening feeding-hour had not arrived, and the lips were only in their normal condition slightly parted. Having contributed his morsel to the insatiable giant, Aspel turned away, and found himself face to face with Phil Maylands.
Oh! it was, as Phil Maylands said, "a glorious day entirely for the 49th Middlesex, that same Queen's Birthday," for there was all the pomp and circumstance of war, all the smoke and excitation, all the glitter of bright sunshine on accoutrements, the flash of sword and bayonet, and the smoke and fire of battle, without the bloodshed and the loss of life! No doubt there were drawbacks.
Phil Maylands was a hero-worshipper. At the time when our tale opens he worshipped a youth the son of a retired naval officer, who possessed at least some of the qualities that are occasionally found in a hero. George Aspel was daring, genial, enthusiastic, tall, broad-shouldered, active, and young about twenty. But George had a tendency to dissipation.
His father, who had recently died, had been addicted to what he styled good-fellowship and grog. Knowing his so-called weakness, Captain Aspel had sent his boy to be brought up in the family of the Reverend James Maylands, but some time before the death of that gentleman he had called him home to help to manage the small farm with which he amused his declining years.
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