"Ah, now we shall smite the _German-log_ exceedingly. We shall fight
even as tigers, for Jarj Panjam.[4] The great Sahib has come to lead us
in the field. Praised be his exalted name."

The Field-Marshal's eyes shone.

"No, no," he said, "my time is finished. I am too old."

"Nay, Sahib," said the sowar as he hung on painfully to his pulley, "the
body may be old but the brain is young."

The Field-Marshal strove to reply but could not. He suddenly turned on
his heel and rushed up the companion-ladder. When halfway up he
remembered the O.C. and retraced his steps. The tears were streaming
down his face.

"Sir," he said, in a voice the deliberate sternness of which but ill
concealed an overmastering emotion, "your hospital arrangements are
excellent. I have seen none better. I congratulate you. Good-day." The
next moment he was gone.

* * * * *

Five days later the colonel was standing on the upper deck; he gripped
the handrail tightly and looked across the harbour basin. Overhead the
Red Cross ensign was at half-mast, and at half-mast hung the Union Jack
at the stern. And so it was with every ship in port. A great silence lay
upon the harbour; even the hydraulic cranes were still, and the winches
of the trawlers had ceased their screaming. Not a sound was to be heard