is mouth the wrong end of the clinical
thermometer handed him by the visiting nurse. He sucked this gravely
for the prescribed time, reversing it just as she reappeared; and, being
marked normal and given a clean bill of health, returned to his berth
to shiver and perspire between huge doses of quinine. More than one such
hero evaded the searching eye of regulations; until finally the Nauru,
free to land her passengers, steamed slowly up the Bay.

One by one the old, familiar landmarks opened out--Mornington,
Frankston, Mordialloc, while Melbourne itself lay hidden in a mist cloud
ahead. Then, as the sun grew stronger the mist lifted, and domes and
spires pierced the dun sky, towering above the jumbled mass of the grey
city. They drew closer to Port Melbourne, and lo! St. Kilda and all the
foreshore were gay with flags, and all the ships in the harbour were
dressed to welcome them; and beyond the pier were long lines of motors,
each beflagged, waiting for the fighting men whom the Nauru was bringing
home.

"Us!" said a boy. "Why, it's us! Flags an' motors--an' a blessed band
playin' on the pier! Wot on earth are they fussin' over us for? Ain't it
enough to get home?"

The band of the Nauru was playing Home, Sweet Home, very low and
tenderly, and there were lumps in many throats, and many a pipe went out
unheeded. Slowly the great ship drew in to the pier, where officers in
uniform waited, and messengers of welcome from the Government. Beyond
the barriers that held the general public back from the pier was a
black mass of people; cheer upon cheer rose, to be wafted back from
the transport, where the "diggers" lined every inch of the port side,
clinging like monkeys to yards and rigging. Then the Nauru came to rest
at last, and the gangways rattled down, and the march off began, to the
quick lilt of the band playing "Oh, it's a Lovely War." The men took
up the words, singing as they marched back to Victoria--coming back, as
they had gone, with a joke on their lips. So the waiting motors received
them, and rolled them off in triumphal procession to Melbourne, between
the cheering crowds.

From the top deck the Lintons, with the Rainhams, watched the men
go--disembarkation was for the troops first, and not till all had gone
could the unattached officers leave the ship. The captain came to them,
at last a normal and friendly captain--no more the official master of
a troopship, in which capacity, as he ruefully said, he c