She buried her face in the pillow for a few moments. She was struggling with the grief that bid fair to choke her. When she looked up again there was nothing but softness in Gerty’s face, and tears were coursing down her cheeks—tears she made no effort to wipe away.
Poor Jack!
“Just two years to-day, Tom, since you and I sailed away from dear old England in the Ocean Pride.”
“And hasn’t the time flown too?” said Tom.
“Ah! but then we’ve been so busy. Just think of the many actions we’ve fought.”
“True, Jack, true! What a lucky, ay, and what a glorious thing for young fellows like us to be in a ship commanded by so daring a sailor as Sir Sidney Salt!”
“Yes, Tom, yes. And think of the haul of prize-money we shall have when we once more touch British ground.”
“O Jack, I am surprised. Money! A Mackenzie of the Mackenzies to be mercenary! Jack, Jack!”
Jack and Tom were keeping their watch—that is, it was Tom’s watch, and Jack had come on deck to bear him company and talk of home.