Sail forth, sail far,
O Captain bold!
It was remarkable to see how all the enthusiasm and fervor of an earlier celebration in that same hall sprang to life again; yes, and with a solemnity added, for this time our hero was going from us. He sat there on the platform by the Mayor, handsome, square-shouldered, his head a little bowed, a thoughtful smile on his lips under the grizzled moustache: he was every inch the noble figure that had stood unflinching before the gates of death; and we realized as never before what a debt of gratitude we owed him. At last our hero was our hero again.
There is but little more to tell. The next morning, bright and early, everybody was at the wharf to watch the Gloria hoist her sails, weigh anchor, and tack out into the bay. There were tears in many, many eyes besides those of poor Mrs. Pettipaw. The sea had a dark look, off there, and one thought of the dangers that awaited any man who sailed out on it at this time of the year.
"Heaven send him good passage!" said Mrs. Thibault, wiping her eyes vigorously.
"Yes, yes, and bring him safe home again, the brave man!" added Mrs. Boutin, earnestly; and all those who heard her breathed a sincere amen to that prayer.
It was sincere. We had wanted Captain Joe to go away; we had actually forced him to go away; yet no sooner was he gone than we prayed he might be brought safe home again. Yes, for when all is said and done, a town that has a hero must love him and cherish him and wish him well. Because we have ours, Three Rivers will always be a better place to live in and to bring up children in: a more inspiring place.
Only, perhaps, if Mrs. Boutin had spoken less impulsively, she would have added one or two qualifying clauses to her petition. For instance, she might have added: "Only not too soon, and not for too long at once!" But for my part, I believe that will be understood by the good angel who puts these matters on record, up there.
