Well, he had lost that damned girl, he supposed. No matter, there were plenty more, and being married to one rather hampered you with the others. Life on the farm would have been unutterably dull really. He was not yet thirty; a year or two more roving would do no harm. His head gave another throb and he put his hand to his brow. A man polishing the ship’s bell noted the gesture and laughed. “Feelin’ sick, me bold farmer? How d’you think you’ll like the sea?” “Farmer!” Ortho snarled. “Hell’s bells, I was upper yard man of the _Elijah Impey_, pick of the Indies fleet!” “Was you, begod?” said the polisher, a note of respect in his voice. “Aye, that I was. Say, mate, what packet is this?” “_Triton_, frigate, Captain Charles Mulholland.” “Good bully?” “The best.” “She seems to handle pretty kind,” said Ortho, glancing aloft. “Kind!” said the man, with enthusiasm. “She’ll eat out of your hand, she’ll talk to you.” “Aha! . . . Know where we’re bound?” “West Indies, I’ve heard.” “West Indies!” Ortho had a picture of peacock islands basking in coral seas, of odorous green jungles, fruit-laden, festooned with ropes of flowers; of gaudy painted parrots preening themselves among the tree ferns; of black girls, heroically molded, flashing their white teeth at him. . . . West Indies! He drew a deep breath. Well, at all events, that was something new. FINIS TRANSCRIBER NOTES Mis-spelled words and printer errors have been corrected or standardised. Inconsistency in hyphenation has been retained. Inconsistency in accents has been corrected or standardised. When nested quoting was encountered, nested double quotes were changed to single quotes. Space between paragraphs varied greatly. The thought-breaks which have been inserted attempt to agree with the larger paragraph spacing, but it is quite possible that this was simply the methodology used by the typesetter, and that there should be no thought-breaks. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Owls' House, by Crosbie Garstin