In a marvellously short space of time, the rails, the boats, the rigging, all the points of vantage were thronged with men, roaring, waving, cheering, like mad.
With undiminished speed, each enveloped in its cloud of spray, the destroyers came, one on each side, rushed foaming past, swept in a circle around the ship and took their stations alongside, riding quietly at half speed like bulldogs tugging at a leash.
"Great heavens, what a sight!" At the croak in Hopeton's voice, the others turned and looked at him.
"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!" Then above the cheering cries was heard the battalion band, and from a thousand throats in solemn chant there rose the Empire's national anthem, "God Save the King." That night they steamed into old Plymouth town, and the following morning were anchored safe at Devonport dock.

Strict orders held the officers and men on board ship until arrangements for debarkation should be completed, but to Barry and the doctor, the Commanding Officer gave shore leave for an hour.
"And I would suggest," he said, "that you go and have a talk with that old boy walking up and down the dock there.