"They know what they're going to, poor lads," mumbled Major Hardy.
Next came the Redbreast, whose decks were soon as crowded as the Snaefell's had been. Major Hardy scanned them through his eyeglass, and then turned snuffily upon us and said:
"Damn your English reticence! Damn your unimaginative silence! Why don't you study the psychology of these boys and this moment?"
Leaning over the rail, he cried at the crowd on the Redbreast:
"Good-bye, lads. Let fly! Three cheers for the king! Let 'em go!"
The boys caught his enthusiasm, as boys always will, and followed his lead, cheering the king and singing: "For he's a jolly good fellow.... And so say all of us. With a hip-hip-hip-hurrah!"
And with them cheering and singing thus, the Redbreast slipped quietly away.
Major Hardy dropped his monocle on his chest. A good voyage—a jolly voyage—was over.
And now a little motor-launch puffed alongside to collect the Mudros Details: and we went down the Rangoon's hull to be ferried ashore. We were ferried, as you shall see, out of our dazzling news of the campaign into the darkness of collapsing things.