He almost lifted Madge into the boat, but said laughingly to her father, "I needn't assist you, Squire; you've been in many a brave boat." And Drummond felt as lively as a kitten.
Such a really delightful evening was spent, and so downright happy were Madge and McTavish, to say nothing of everybody else, that naughty old Time flew as quickly by as if he had hired a motor-car for the express purpose.
CHAPTER XXVIII
NOT ANOTHER "BUT" ABOUT IT
The dinner that evening was a great success, as society reporters say. But I am writing facts--true facts, not the ordinary kind that are good enough for newspapers.
Happy crew, happy officers! Madge was very much at home, and at ease, but who would not be so at a Royal Navy mess dinner.
Only sometimes McTavish was too quiet, and apparently a trifle sad. He was wondering to himself what this depression might portend.
"What are you thinking about, Mac," cried Guilford; "why, you've got a face like a latter day saint."
Mac laughed, blushed a little--for it is only men nowadays who do blush--but with an extreme effort he shook himself, mentally that is, and for the remainder of the evening was the life and soul of the ward-room.
No one spoke much about adventures. When the Captain was asked about those in New Guinea, he only laughed. "We sailor men," he said, "think little of adventure, so used to it, and as for bravery in the battlefield, why my worthy surgeon McTavish will tell you that to be slain is a far less cruel death than dying in bed."