I'd brought everyone of them a present of sorts—a curio from Hong-Kong, or something I had picked up on the island—a rifle from One Gun Hill for the Pater, and a great piece of shell which had burst aboard the Laird for my Mother, and she couldn't get it out of her head that that was what had wounded me.
Then and there I had to show them all my wounds—I had four, you know.
First, that little one on my head, which you could find if you looked carefully; and the one on my chest which had given all the trouble, and had left a pretty big scar; and the stab on my leg, and the bullet wound just below it.
Wasn't the Pater proud, and so was Effie; but my Mother burst into tears, and then, I think, we all cried and hugged each other and had a ripping time; and I told them that Toddles and Mellins were coming to spend a fortnight with me, and that Mellins loved sardines and cake—the richer the better—and told Effie she would have to marry one of them, for they were the best fellows in the world, and she said she would, and so that was all right.
Of course we quieted down afterwards, and then I had to go and show Toby my wounds, and the old housekeeper, and she cried too, and gave me some home-made bread, with honey spread half an inch thick on it, the honey-comb in it too, for she knew I liked that.
And the bed too—same little bed, in the same old attic, with a funny, poky little window looking over the kitchen garden—it had never looked more cosy; and my Mother came up when I turned in, and cried when she saw my pyjamas all in holes, and knelt down by my bed and said her prayers, and I said mine to her, and she cried again, and I blubbered a little, I was so absolutely happy; and Effie came in very early next morning, and we had a jolly good pillow fight.
Good things cannot last for ever. It's just as well too, I expect, or else we should never know they were so good.
Toddles and Mellins came presently, and we had simply a ripping time; but then we were all appointed to different ships, and had to join them at Portsmouth.
I hadn't forgotten Milly and the old Admiral at Fareham, and had taken him the will, as I promised Hopkins. I don't think the lawyers made any difficulty about it, though I believe it took a precious long time to get the money over from America.
Milly wanted to kiss me—I always dreaded that—but I shook her hand hard and edged away; so that didn't come off, and she never tried again. She wanted to know a lot about Hopkins, but she never found out that he had been a pirate and was fighting against us, and I don't think anyone ever told her. I'm sure the Captain never would.