“You've got it too, eh!” said Captain Neil, clearing his own throat.
“I've got something, God knows!” answered Hopeton, wiping his eyes.
“I, too,” said Barry, swallowing the proverbial lump. “Those little—little—”
“Bulldogs,” suggested Hopeton.
“Bulldog pups,” said Captain Neil.
“That's it,” said Barry. “That's what they are, little bulldog pups, got me by the throat all right.”
“Me, too, by gad!” said Captain Neil. “I should have howled out loud in another minute.”
“Listen to the boys!” cried Barry.
From end to end of the ship rose one continuous roar, “Good old Navy! Good old John Bull!” while Hopeton, openly abandoning the traditional reserve and self-control supposed to be a characteristic of the English public school boy, climbed upon the rail and, hanging by a stanchion with one hand, and with the other frantically waving his cap over his head, continued to shout:
“England! England! England forever!”