And next came Creggan's time to start for the far south to face his examiners. I shall not linger over the leave-takings. He departed with many blessings, and many prayers would be prayed for his success. M'Ian kindly accompanied him to Portree and saw the steamer off. Then the boy was all alone in the world, because for the time being he had left even poor sad-eyed Oscar with Daddy the hermit.
Yes, Creggan was bold enough to take the journey all by himself—by steamer to Glasgow, by train to Leith, and by steamer again to London. He had been recommended to a small but comfortable hotel, and here he took up his abode till the exam. days came round. Of course everything in London streets was strangely foreign to Creggan, and very confusing. He didn't like it. The twangy jargon of the guttersnipe boys grated harshly on his ear; the streets were thick in greasy mud; all aloft was gloom and fog, and never a green thing about.
"I'll do my best to pass well," he said to himself as he left one day to be present at the examination; "I'll do my best to pass, but I sha'n't be sorry if I don't."
There were other boys trying to enter the Navy creditably, and though many were bold, handsome English lads, most were pale, nervous, and frightened.
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About a week afterwards Archie M'Laren's boat might have been seen driving over the Minch towards the island.
The hermit knew from his face that he was the bearer of good tidings.
"Hurrah, sir!" he cried, waving a letter aloft. "I've had one myself. Creggan has passed with more marks than anybody. Aren't you joyful, sir?"
The hermit, as he rapidly read Creggan's schoolboyish caligraphy, was indeed too joyful to speak, and I'm not sure but that his eyes were moist with tears.
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