Bob and Murrams knew him, and the Admiral too, who danced for joy in the back-garden when Ransey Tansey went to see him.
Everybody, with the exception of the father, seemed to walk on air that night. Mr Tandy was simply quietly happy.
Ransey was quite a man, Babs told him, and she felt sure he would soon have a moustache. Indeed, she brought a small magnifying-glass to strengthen her convictions on this point.
What a lot lads have to tell when they return from sea for the first time! and their friends cannot give them greater pleasure than by listening to all their adventures and “hairbreadth scapes;” sympathising with them in sorrows past and gone, and dangers encountered, and thanking Providence that they have been spared to come safely home from off the stormy ocean.
Ransey had gone to the old cottage first, not knowing anything about the change. He had found strangers there, and his heart had sunk to zero.
“Perhaps,” he thought, “they are dead and gone.”
No Bob to meet him! no Babs! no dancing crane!
He hadn’t had the heart to go in; he just ran right away to Captain Weathereye’s, and he told him all.
Ransey had had to sling his hammock here the first night, and visit Miss Scragley’s next day.
And Eedie was now ten years of age, and shy, but welcomed Ransey with a soft handshake and a bonnie blush, and in her little secret morsel of a heart admired him.