7/38 I told one fellow--he was the most troublesome--that he was a disgrace to a great Empire, and was only fit to fight with the filthy English. We must make shift the best we can. I can spare one man from the deck hands, and you must give up one from the engine-room.' That was arranged, and we were tearing back rather short in the wind when I espied a figure sitting on a bench beside the booking-office on the pier. It was a slim figure, in an old suit of khaki: some cast-off duds which had long lost the semblance of a uniform. It had a gentle face, and was smoking peacefully, looking out upon the river and the boats and us noisy fellows with meek philosophical eyes. |