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Jane remained awake long enough to kiss his left eyebrow and was asleep the next instant. White Bow also was asleep, and nearly all the remainder drowsy. Cornelius James, clasping the First Lieutenant's sword, however, remained wide-eyed. "I'm so firsty," he complained plaintively. "That's called Nemesis, my son," said Torps, and gave him to drink out of the water-bottle.
Torps studied the traces of overwork and strain which showed in the faintly accentuated cheekbones and which painted little tired shadows about her eyelids. "No, it's not all. Why have you come down here?" "I I " She coloured as if accused. "I got a little run down . . . that was all. But I've saved some money; I can afford a rest.
"Isn't it rather hard on the Chee-si's?" asked Torps, "being done out of their parties no, Jess, three lumps are considered quite enough for little dogs to consume at one sitting." The Skipper's Missus looked across the cabin at her husband: "Tim, your tea's getting cold. Why shouldn't we have a children's party on board one day next week? It isn't too late, is it?"
"What did the Buccaneer say when you nailed his nose to the flying jibboom?" "Please make me a good boy," replied Torps, somewhat at random. "Oh, same's I do," said Cornelius James. "More or less; isn't that sword very uncomfortable?" But no answer came back, for Cornelius James, the hilt of the sword grasped firmly in two small hands, had passed into the Valhalla of Childhood.
Sound a bugle beat a drum?" Torps smiled faintly. "Something of the sort no, not a drum; a bugle, perhaps." "Well, we'll suppose it is a drum. One somehow associates it with war and alarms. Would you hesitate to obey?" Torps refrained from the obvious answer and plucked a grass-stem to put between his teeth.
Torps rose to his feet, too, and for a moment faced her, with his grave, patient eyes on hers. For the first time she noticed that his hair was going grey about the temples, and, had he known it, Margaret came very near to wavering in that moment. Perhaps he did realise, and with quick, characteristic generosity helped her.
It must be someone who gives all and who gives herself gladly . . . as I have." Torps turned his head as if to speak, but checked himself. "Don't think I am setting myself upon a pedestal. Don't think my heart is too anaemic to to care for you, and that I am trying to shelter myself behind talk of a life's mission. Oh!" she cried, "be generous. Don't try to make it harder."
"Beg pardon, sir," he called as he came within earshot, "but would you be a naval officer?" "I am," replied Torps. "Why?" The man saluted. "There's a telephone message just come through, sir, 'Prepare to mobilise. All officers and men are recalled from leave." Torps stared at him. "Where did it come from the message?" "From the port, sir. I was to warn anyone I saw out this way . . ."
The two men deposited the stretcher on the floor and came out, glancing at her white face as they passed. "Shall we carry on, Sister?" "What? . . . Oh, yes, please." They saluted awkwardly, and left her standing irresolute, as if dazed, in the midst of all the bustle and traffic of suffering. He had come back to her. Torps, who in life had never broken his word, was also faithful to it in death.
If there were no one else who I thought had a greater claim, you should no, hush! listen, dear I would give you what you want . . . gladly oh, gladly! But the children need me my influence. . . . Miss Dacre said it is doing the highest service one could for the Empire . . . theirs is the higher claim. Can you understand? Oh, can you?" Torps made no reply, staring out to sea with sombre eyes.
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