Explore "The Girl from Malta" by Fergus Hume on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There is no sadder word in the English language than "Farewell. " How many quivering lips have said it with breaking hearts and scalding tears -- the soldier marching away with flying banners and martial music -- the emigrant sitting on deck, seeing the blue hills of the land of his birth fading away in the shadows of the night -- the young man going forth into the world, and turning once more to see through tear-dimmed eyes the old house where he was born, and the lovers parting -- never to meet again. Yes it is a sad word, and has caused more tears and heart-aches than any we use. Now that the voyage was coming to an end, those who had been in close companionship for nearly six weeks, knew that they must separate in a short time and, that the memory of the pleasant company on board the "Neptune" would soon be only a dream of the past. No wonder then, that as the steamer glided up the Thames, everyone was a little melancholy.
The voyage from Gibraltar had been pleasant. They had seen the famous Trafalgar Bay, where Nelson won his Waterloo -- passed Cape St. Vincent in the night -- caught a glimpse of the mouth of the Tagus in the early morning, and steamed safely through the Bay of Biscay, which did not act up to the reputation gained for it by the song, but was as calm as a mill-pond.