"Ordered home, sir?"
"Ordered home. Yes."
"Hurrah!" And the good news spread like wildfire from end to end of the ship. All hands had it, from ward-room to galley, from the officer on watch to the cook's slush boy. Ordered home!
Yet mingled with the joy that was general, was one little blue thread of sadness. In storm or tempest, in fair weather or foul, for three long years and a half, the broadsword-men of the Breezy had hung together. Their dangers had been one another's on sea or land, and they had fought shoulder to shoulder in many a bloody tulzie, and a spirit of camaraderie had always pervaded the ship, walked the decks, and dwelt in the hearts of the crew. The Breezy had been to them a real home and a happy one at that, a home on the ocean wave. But in a few weeks, they would all be sundered.
Ah, well, such is life to our sailors.
McTavish himself had few letters. Principally from his sisters and the old folks at home.
Nor were Kep's letters very stirring this time. Madge had not yet married the wealthy old man. Father had become settled as it were. Was falling more easily into the new groove, and really, Madge said, life in a cottage by the sea was rather nice than otherwise. "But," she added, "father is longing, and I am longing, for our dear boy and his piccolo back home again to cheer our hearts."
With Madge's letter in his pocket and a photo in it sent to show how she looked at twenty, Kep went below to the doctor's cabin and glided in. His friend was sitting there, lonesome-looking enough, and gazing at a carte intensely, earnestly, in the uncertain light.
"Do I interrupt?"
"No, no, dear boy. Sit you down."