Already the hawsers had been cast off. Two panting little tugs were slowly towing the paddle-ship into the open water, and hoarse voices sounded from the bridge. The tune changed to the National Anthem, and hats were doffed by the crowd, while every lad on board stood at attention. Then the strains of “Auld Lang Syne” came across the water, at first loud and distinct, but gradually getting fainter, cheers passed from deck to quay, handkerchiefs and sticks were waved, the railway-engine screeched a last farewell with its whistle, and the Orinoco trembled from stem to stern at the beat of her paddles, like some powerful animal making a terrific struggle to escape its bonds.
The parting was over. Men gazed at the rapidly receding shore, and then turning, dived below decks and busied themselves in arranging their hammocks. What was the good of being downcast? Who could look into the future? As well make the best of matters and take things cheerfully. Soon all were laughing and joking, perhaps a little more soberly than before, but still far more happily than an hour ago.
“Now, my lads,” cried the sergeant-major, “each man to his hammock, and we’ll serve out to-day’s allowance of rum. It’ll cheer you up and keep the cold out.”
One by one the men were served with the spirit, and soon after, having been joined by the sailors off duty, Jack Tar and Thomas Atkins sat themselves down to a convivial evening. Pipes were produced, and some thoughtful fellow extracting a concertina from the depths of a kit-bag, an impromptu concert was commenced and kept up till “lights out.”
“This kind of thing won’t be allowed every night, I expect,” said Phil, as he sat by Tony’s side, for many of the sailors, liberally helped to a portion of the soldiers’ rum, were reeling away to their quarters.
“Ah! well, it’s only the first night out, mate, mind that. The officers, I expect, knows about it as well as we do, but they knows the boys want cheering. But I expects there’ll be a change.”
And as a matter of fact there was, for on the following day, when the hour for the serving out of grog came round, the men were drawn up in their several messes. Then under the eye of the sergeant-major one mess was served, and at the order, “Men served one pace forward and swallow,” the spirit disappeared.
It was a strange feeling to lie for the first time in a hammock, but the men took to it like ducks to water.
“It’s jolly comfortable, and ever so much softer than a barrack-bed, ain’t it, Phil?” remarked Tony, as he lay full length close beside his friend, with only his face showing, and a pipe projecting from his lips.
“I’ve slept in a harder bed many a time,” laughed Phil. “But I’m tired; so good-night, Tony!”