On the jetty itself a few anxious wives, mothers, and sisters stood eagerly scanning the sea of faces in the almost hopeless endeavour to distinguish those for which they sought. Yet ever and anon an exclamation on the jetty, and an answering wave of an arm on the troop-ship, told that some at least of the anxious ones had been successful in the search.
“Don’t they look weather-beaten?” remarked Miles to his companion.
“Sure it’s more like sun-dried they are,” answered a voice at his side. Brown had gone to the shed to prepare his coffee and bread against the landing of the troops, and a stout Irishwoman had taken his place. Close to her stood the two ladies from the Institute with baskets on their arms.
“You are right,” returned Miles, with a smile; “they look like men who have seen service. Is your husband among them?”
“Faix, I’d be sorprised if he was,” returned the woman; “for I left him in owld Ireland, in the only landed property he iver held in this world—six futt by two, an’ five deep. He’s been in possession six years now, an’ it wouldn’t be aisy to drive him out o’ that, anyhow. No, it’s my son Terence I’ve come to look afther. Och! there he is! Look, look, that’s him close by the funnel! Don’t ye see ’im? Blissins on his good-lookin’ face! Hooroo! Terence—Terence Flynn, don’t ye recognise yer owld mother? Sure an’ he does, though we haven’t met for tin year. My! hasn’t he got the hair on his lips too—an’ his cheeks are like shoe-leather—my darlint!”
As the enthusiastic mother spoke in the tones of a public orator, there was a general laugh among those who were nearest to her; but she was forgotten immediately, for all were too deeply intent on their own interests to pay much regard to each other just then.
The great vessel was slow in getting alongside and making fast to the jetty—slow at least in the estimation of the impatient—for although she might leap and career grandly in wanton playfulness while on her native billows, in port a careless touch from her ponderous sides would have crushed part of the jetty into fragments. Miles therefore had ample time to look about him at the various groups around.
One young woman specially attracted his attention, for she stood apart from every one, and seemed scarcely able to stand because of weakness. She was young and good-looking. Her face, which was deadly pale, contrasted strongly with her glossy raven-black hair, and the character of her dress denoted extreme poverty.
The ladies from the Institute had also observed this poor girl, and one of them, going to her side, quietly addressed her. Miles, from the position in which he stood, could not avoid overhearing what was said.
“Yes, Miss, I expect my husband,” said the woman in answer to a question. “He’s coming home on sick-leave. I had a letter from him a good while ago saying he was coming home in the Orontes.”