"Good news from home, good news for me,
Has come across the dark blue sea,
From friends that I had left in tears,
From friends I have not seen for years.
"And since we parted long ago,
My life has been a scene of woe;
But now a joyful hour has come,
For I have got good news from home."
The second line of the second verse is, however, hardly correct as far Creggan was concerned. On the whole he had passed his time very pleasantly indeed, with some little griefs, of course. Many a storm had the Rattler weathered, and many a strange sight had he seen.
He would be entitled to a good long spell of leave when the gun-boat was paid off, and what tales he would have to tell the old hermit (his Daddy) and Archie, and last, though not least, dear wee Matty! But stay, she would be eleven years old, for Creggan was eighteen or almost.
But here were the letters from home, one each, and long ones too, from Daddy, Mr. M'Ian, Rory and Maggie, Nugent and Matty.
He kept the latter to the last. What a dear, innocent little epistle it was, and though no praise could be given to the caligraphy, which was a trifle scrawly, childish, innocent love breathed from every line.
* * * * * * * * * * *
It was a bright and beautiful morning when the Rattler weighed anchor, left the Bight of Benin, and steered west and away, homeward bound for Merrie England.
As the gun-boat passed the Centiped, which would now take her place on this station, there was many a shout of "bon voyage" from the quarter-deck; the rigging was crowded with sailors like bees on a bush, and after three cheers were given, the little band of the Centiped struck up Home, Sweet Home.
The notes came quavering sweetly, sadly over the water, but soon they died away, and in an hour's time the ship they had left behind them could hardly be seen against the greenery of the trees that lined the Afric foreshore.