ul thing, though bad luck for us."

"Bad luck! I should think it would be, Phil. Why, remember what we're
after, you and me. Promotion--quick promotion. You've got to get that
commission and become a toff of an orfficer, and I've got to win me
stripes; and how's it all to be done unless we smell powder? No,
there's going to be a jolly war, and we Guards are going to be in the
thick of it;" and having settled the matter, as it were, Tony gave a
grunt, expressive of the disgust he might feel if the troubles really
were to disappear in smoke, and, turning on his heel, climbed up the
gangway ladder to the deck.

There were numbers of soldiers already lining the rails, and a crowd of
people on the quay, all chattering, calling to one another, and
attempting to look cheerful and gay under obviously depressing
circumstances.

Then a man with a grey beard, upright carriage, and a general appearance
which did not need the row of medals displayed on his waistcoat to
proclaim him an old soldier, stepped forward, and, producing a cornet,
played "The British Grenadiers."

Already the hawsers had been cast off. Two panting little tugs were
slowly towing the paddle-ship into the open water, and hoarse voices
sounded from the bridge. The tune changed to the National Anthem, and
hats were doffed by the crowd, while every lad on board stood at
attention. Then the strains of "Auld Lang Syne" came across the water,
at first loud and distinct, but gradually getting fainter, cheers passed
from deck to quay, handkerchiefs and sticks were waved, the
railway-engine screeched a last farewell with its whistle, and the
_Orinoco_ trembled from stem to stern at the beat of her paddles, like
some powerful animal making a terrific struggle to escape its bonds.

The parting was over. Men gazed at the rapidly receding shore, and then
turning, dived below decks and busied themselves in arranging their
hammocks. What was the good of being downcast? Who could look into the
future? As well make the best of matters and take things cheerfully.
Soon all were laughing and joking, perhaps a little more soberly than
before, but still far more happily than an hour ago.

"Now, my lads," cried the sergeant-major, "each man to his hammock, and
we'll serve out to-day's allowance of rum. It'll cheer you up and keep
the cold out."

One by one the men were served with the spirit, and soon after, having
been joined by the sailors off duty, Jack Tar an