ng for a man to say to his own son. I could say it easier to somebody
else's son nor I can to you. London's a quare place for a young fella,
Henry, but it's no good preachin' to men about women ... no good at all.
The only thing you can do is to stan' by a man when he gets into bother.
That's all, except to hope to God he'll not disgrace his name if he's
your son. You know where to write to, Henry, if you need any help!...
Hilloa, there's the second bell!"

They could hear the sailors calling out "Any more for the shore!" and
the sound of hurried farewells and the shuffle of awkward feet along the
gangways.

"Good-bye, Henry!"

"Good-bye, father!"

"You'll not forget to write now an' awhile?"

"I'll write to you the minute I get to London!"

"Ah, don't hurry yourself! You'll mebbe be tired out when you arrive.
Just wait 'til the mornin', an' write at your leisure...."

"Hurry up, sir!" an impatient sailor said.

"Ah, sure, there's plenty of time, man! Good-bye, Henry! I believe I'm
the last one to go ashore. Well, so long!"

They shook hands, and then the old man went down the gangway.

"Any more for the shore?" the sailor shouted, unloosing the rope that
held the gangway fast to the ship. Then the gangway was cast off. A bell
rang, and in an instant the sound of the screws beating in the water was
heard. A shudder ran through the boat as the engines began to move, and
slowly the gap between the ship and the quay widened. Henry smiled at
his father, and the old man blinked and smiled back. The passengers
leant against the side of the boat and shouted farewells and messages to
their friends on shore. "Mind an' write!" "Remember me to every one,
will you!" "Tell Maggie I was askin' for her!" Then hats were waved and
handkerchiefs were floated like flags.... A woman stood near to Henry
and cried miserably to herself.... The ship swung into the middle of the
Lagan and began to move down towards the sea. Henry could still see his
father, standing under the yellow glare of a large lamp hanging from the
shed. He had taken off his hat, and was waving it to his son. It seemed
to Henry suddenly that the old man's hair was very grey and thin.... He
took out his handkerchief and waved it vigorously in response.
Somewhere in the steerage people were singing a hymn:

'Til we me .. ee .. eet, 'til we me .. eet,
'Til we meet at Je . e . su's feet ... Jesu's feet,
'Til we me .. ee .. eet, 'til we me .. eet,
God be