But before he went he accepted a pearl from Antonio, which he assured him he should have placed in a ring for his wife.
And then he gave Antonio his address, bidding him be sure and call whenever he could find his way down the romantic Clyde as far as Helensburgh.
Soon after this the ships parted, dipping ensigns as each went on his own way across the lonesome sea.
. . . . . .
So now after their salt-water bath and a spell of walking in the morning sunshine, Barclay and Davie had a good breakfast to go down to, cooked and served up in Pandoo’s best style. It is needless to add that they did justice thereto.
Yes, the voyage was indeed idyllic.
When the moon rose up of an evening and silvered the waters, while the gentle breeze blew cooler, and the stars shone bright and clear, our heroes, with Teenie, Sister Leona, and Antonio, sat together on the deck.
They talked of the future—oh, not the nightmare past—till at least five bells in the first watch, and every now and again Antonio’s sad guitar was struck, and he sang songs of romantic Spain that enthralled and enchanted every one who heard them.
. . . . . .
Teneriffe at last, after sighting several other most beautiful islands that hung like green or brown clouds twixt the blue sea and the horizon, which melted together, as it were, till you could not have told where the one ended and the other began.