To enjoy life, and tobacco, begin both on a sunny morning half a
mile or so above the dappled Atlantic cloud-belts and after a
volt-flurry which has cleared and tempered your nerves. While we
discussed the thickening traffic with the superiority that comes
of having a high level reserved to ourselves, we heard (and I for
the first time) the morning hymn on a Hospital boat.
She was cloaked by a skein of ravelled fluff beneath us and we
caught the chant before she rose into the sunlight. "Oh, ye Winds
of God," sang the unseen voices: "bless ye the Lord! Praise Him
and magnify Him for ever!"
We slid off our caps and joined in. When our shadow fell across
her great open platforms they looked up and stretched out their
hands neighbourly while they sang. We could see the doctors and
the nurses and the white-button-like faces of the cot-patients.
She passed slowly beneath us, heading northward, her hull, wet
with the dews of the night, all ablaze in the sunshine. So took
she the shadow of a cloud and vanished, her song continuing.
Pages:
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188