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Hope, Anthony, 1863-1933

"A Man of Mark"


The street itself was almost deserted, but from where I stood I could
see the Piazza crowded with a throng of people whose shouts and songs
told me that the colonel's hospitality was being fully appreciated.
There was dancing going on to the strains of the military band, and
every sign showed that our good citizens intended, in familiar phrase,
to make a night of it.
I walked swiftly and silently down to the jetty. Yes, the boat was all
right! I looked to her fires, and left her moored by one rope ready
to be launched into the calm black sea in an instant. Then I strolled
along by the harbor side. Here I met a couple of sentries. Innocently
I entered into conversation with them, condoling on their hard fate
in being kept on duty while pleasure was at the helm in the Piazza.
Gently deprecating such excess of caution, I pointed out to them the
stationary lights of _The Songstress_ four or five miles out to sea,
and with a respectful smile at the colonel's uneasiness, left the seed
I had sown to grow in prepared soil. I dared do no more, and had to
trust for the rest to their natural inclination to the neglect of
duty.


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