Part II: The White Heights
CHAPTER VII
MUDROS, IN THE ISLE OF LEMNOS
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The motor-launch beat away from the Rangoon. Monty, standing in the stern, lit a pipe, and stared over the match-flame at the empty troopship. Jimmy Doon, sitting in the bows, surveyed the hill-locked harbour, and said to me:
"Well, there's one comfort: we shan't be killed on Gallipoli."
"Why not?"
"Because we shall certainly die at Mudros."
Doe was brooding over the ships of the Navy on the water, and over the white camps of the Army on the dull, bleak hill-slopes.