whereabouts. At any rate, he never left the ship while in port, and he
seemed to have no relatives.

There were times when the black cloud was upon him and our voices were
hushed to whispers lest the vibration should cause it to break in fury
on our own heads--then he would flog the crew with a wire hawser, and
his language would cause the paint to blister on the deck. At other
times the memory of his "mother" would steal over his spirit and in a
sweet tenor he would croon the old-time hymns and the old ship would
creak its loving accompaniment, and the unopened shell-fish would waft
the incense heavenward.

We believed most of his ill temper was due to the foreign flag hanging
at our stern that the Sydney-built ship was ever trying to hide beneath
a wave. He had sailed every sea, with no other flag above him than the
Union Jack, and felt maybe that even his misdeeds deserved not the
covering of less bright colors. It was like a ringmaster fallen on
hard times having to act the part of "clown." But needs must where
necessity drives, and as his own country would have none of him, he was
tolerant of the flag that hid him from the "sleuths" of British law.

BUT WAR CAME, and the chance to redeem himself. What washes so clean
as blood--and many a stained escutcheon has in these times been
cleansed and renewed--bathed in the hot blood poured out freely by the
"sons of the line." Whether the fleet was laid up or not, George was
going! He might be over age, but no one could say what age he really
was, and he was tougher than most men half his age. He left Queensland
for Egypt with the Remount Unit in 1915, and is to-day in Jerusalem,
with the British forces. Maybe he is treading the Via Dolorosa gazing
at a place called Calvary, hoping that _One_ will remember that he,