But so many incidents and adventures, to say nothing of duty's strict routine, go to make up a sailor's life, whether young or not, that it is wonderful how speedily pass the months, ay, and the years too, until the "Ordered home" arrives.
Then indeed is there excitement. But once the jib-boom is pointing straight ahead towards our own beloved land, time no longer flies, it abjures the swift, darting flight of the swallow and lags along at the pace of a slug.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Well now, two whole years have passed away since Creggan and his friend made that memorable though all too brief tour in Venezuela with the kindly young landsman Miguel, and it would be difficult indeed to cram the story of all their ups and downs into even a dozen chapters. I have no such intention. In fact, though I tell this story from the life, it is impossible for me to remember all they did or didn't do in that time.
I will just inform you, that at the end of two years they were once more back again at the mouth of the great white rolling Orinoco, and, as history repeats itself, Miguel once more came on board, looking not a bit changed, and once more Creggan and the Ugly Duckling went with him up stream to his mother's beautiful mansion.
This time they intended going no farther, but they were accompanied by dear, kind little Sidney Wickens, and also by their two staunch friends, Hurricane Bob and Oscar.
Now, I must tell you something. Sidney was a genial but quiet young fellow, whose very manner appeared to invite the confidence of his fellows, and when, one evening, nobody but he and Duckie sat together in their little mess-room—this was shortly after their first visit to Venezuela,—the latter had suddenly begun to laugh.
"Oh," cried Sidney, "give us a chance to join you, old man. A good laugh is invaluable, from a health point of view."
"Well, I'll tell you, though I wouldn't tell everybody."
"No? Well, let me hear."