e Monty finished the voyage in his own style. Early the next
morning he had a corporate farewell Mass for all his servers and his
family. And this is the true story how Major Hardy chanced to limp
to the service.

He retired early from the revels of the previous night, and, as Doe
and I were getting into our bunks, we heard him in his cabin next
door whistling "Home, sweet Home," while he disrobed. We heard the
steward ask him:

"What time will you be called in the morning, sir?"

"What time?" answered the Major's voice, when he had finished the
tune. "What time? Let's see. I say, Ray," he inquired through the
wall, "this padre-fellow's got a service or something in the
morning--_what_?"

"Yes, sir," shouted I.

"Some unearthly hour, seven or what?"

"Seven-thirty, sir."

"Ah yes," said the Major's voice, soft again, to the steward, "call
me six-thirty."

"Yes, sir. Will you have shaving water then, sir?"

"Shaving water--_what_? Yes, surely." And the Major shouted through
the wall: "We shave, don't we, Ray?"

"Well, yes, sir," agreed I.

"Of course," continued the Major, reproachfully, to the steward.
"Bring shaving water. And there'll be the most deplorable row if
it's not hot."

"Will you have a cup of tea to get up with, sir?" asked the steward.

"Tea? What? No, I don't think so. No, surely not." Once more he
sought enlightenment through the wall. "We don't have tea, do we,
Ray?"

"Well, no, sir. That's as you please."

"No. No tea, steward. Of course not. What nonsense!"

"Very good, sir. Good night, sir."

"Good night, steward.... You see, Ray," shouted Major Hardy, "I am a
bit out of this church business. Must get into it again--_what_. And
the padre's a good fellow."

In such wise Major Hardy half apologised to two boys for being
present, and limped to the service.

Half a hundred others crowded the smoking room. This last Mass being
what Monty called his "prize effort," he insisted on having two
servers, and selected Doe and myself, whom he chose to regard as his
"prize products." On either side of the altar we took our places,
not now clad in white flannels, but uniformed and booted for going
ashore. Monty, as he approached the altar, gave one quick,
involuntary glance at his packed congregation, ready dressed for
war, and slightly sparkled and flushed with pleasure.

After the Creed had been said, Monty turned to deliver a little
farewell address. Very simply he told his hearers t