He raised his voice in song, and the dancers took up the words till the great hall rang with men's voices:
"For I'm off to Philadelphia in the morning."
The player brought down his hands in a crash of bass chords and rose laughing, amid a storm of protest.
"No more. Fineesh.... Phew! It's a long ship, this."
Havelock approached us, glass in hand. "Milsom," he said, "I take that last song as an augury."
"Why?" asked Milsom, smiling.
"Well, my old governor—he was a Marine, you know—told me that they sang that on the last guest night before the Birkenhead sailed. The Marines didn't exactly disgrace themselves in the Birkenhead, and we'll hope your playing it to-night means the Corps are going to get another chance to show the sort of stuff they're made of."
It was the first time I'd heard the loss of the Birkenhead mentioned as other than a disaster: but that was Havelock's way of looking at things.
"They're doing that all day long," said Milsom, "but I'll add 'Amen!'"
4