"But what, Captain?"
"But I said as I couldn't bear for to see a little child exposed again in an open boat for sixty-four hours."
"But Captain, wouldn't they give you a ship without a child?"
"They said they would," he replied, doubtfully, shaking his head.
"Then what will you be doing next?" we asked, mentally reviewing the various fields in which he might add laurels to laurels.
He meditated a little while and then replied: "Home'll suit me pretty good for a spell."
Well, that could be understood, certainly. Indeed, it was to his credit. We remembered Father Quinnan's speech. The husband, the father, had their claim. A little stay at home, in the bosom of loved ones, yes, to be sure, it seemed fitting and right, after the perils of the sea.
And yet, why was it, as we took down the one-eighth-mile of bunting that night, there was a faint but perceptible dampening of our enthusiasm. Perhaps it was the reaction from the strain and excitement of the day, for it had been, there was no denying it, a day of days for Three Rivers; a day, which, as Father Quinnan had said, would be writ in letters of gold in Memory's fair album. This day was ended now, and night came down upon a very proud and very tired little community.