One of our most ambitious efforts was a play called _La Grammaire_, by Labiche: it proved too ambitious, and never got further than a dress rehearsal in the schoolroom. In this play, Elizabeth had the part of the heroine, and had to be elegantly dressed; she borrowed a grown-up gown, and had her hair done up, but she took such a long time preening herself that she missed her cue, which was: “L’ange la voici!” It was spoken by Margaret, who had a man’s part.
“L’ange la voici!” said Margaret in ringing tones, but no _ange_ appeared. “L’ange la voici!” repeated Margaret, with still greater emphasis, but still no _ange_; finally, not without malice, Margaret almost shouted, “L’ange la voici!” and at last Elizabeth tripped blushing on to the stage with the final touches of her toilette still a little uncertain. In the same play, Susan played the part of a red-nosed horse-coper, dressed in a grey-tailed coat, called _Machut_.
Another source of joy in Membland life was the yacht, the _Waterwitch_, which in the summer months used to sail as soon as the Cowes Regatta was over, down to the Yealm River. The _Waterwitch_ was a schooner of 150 tons; it had one large cabin where one had one’s meals, my mother’s cabin aft, a cabin for my father, and three spare cabins. The name of the first captain was Goomes, but he was afterwards replaced by Bletchington. Goomes was employed later by the German Emperor. He had a knack of always getting into rows during races, and even on other occasions.
One day there was a regatta going on on the Yealm River; the gig of the _Waterwitch_ was to race the gig of another yacht. They had to go round a buoy. For some reason, I was in the _Waterwitch’s_ gig when the race started, sitting in the stern next to Goomes, who was steering. All went well at first, but when the boats were going round the buoy they fouled, and Goomes and the skipper of the rival gig were soon engaged in a hand-to-hand combat, and beating each other hard with the steering-lines. My father and the rest of the family were watching the race on board the yacht. I think I was about six or seven. My father shouted at the top of his voice, “Come back, come back,” but to no avail, as Goomes and the other skipper were fighting like two dogs, and the boats were almost capsizing. I think Goomes won the fight and the race. I remember enjoying it all heartily, but not so my father on board the yacht.