She reached the shore. The time had come for him to go, but there was
his ship at anchor in the tide-way still. Perhaps the Narcissus was not
going; perhaps, after all, Philip was to remain! She laughed with
pleasure at the thought of that. Her eyes wandered lovingly over the
ship which was her husband's home upon the sea. Just such another vessel
Philip would command. At a word from him those guns, like long, black,
threatening arms thrust out, would strike for England with thunder and
fire.

A bugle call came across the still water, clear, vibrant, and compelling.
It represented power. Power--that was what Philip, with his ship, would
stand for in the name of England. Danger--oh yes, there would be danger,
but Heaven would be good to her; Philip should go safe through storm and
war, and some day great honours would be done him. He should be an
admiral, and more perhaps; he had said so. He was going to do it as much
for her as for himself, and when he had done it, to be proud of it more
for her than for himself; he had said so: she believed in him utterly.
Since that day upon the Ecrehos it had never occurred to her not to
believe him. Where she gave her faith she gave it wholly; where she
withdrew it--

The bugle call sounded again. Perhaps that was the signal to set sail.
No, a boat was putting out from the Narcissus. It was coming landward.
As she watched its approach she heard a chorus of boisterous voices
behind her. She turned and saw nearing the shore from the Rue d'Egypte a
half-dozen sailors, singing cheerily:

"Get you on, get you on, get you on,
Get you on to your fo'c'stle'ome;