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[Page 59]
and the crowd simply poured through. Everyone was greatly excited, and jostled & hurtled along the wharf to find their particular friends on the boat. A crowd of people down to say farewell to Jim soon located us, and as I knew them all, I didn't in the least feel lonely. Then the streamers were thrown, in hundreds & hundreds. It's a pretty habit this streamer throwing, and as it stretches & runs out it gives you a funny feeling to be holding the ship end of it. It must have been a great sight from the wharf, you will have to ask Alan about that, but from the ship it was simply splendid.
The cheering as the boat drew out was magnificent both from the boat and from the shore. The thousands of streamers gradually lengthened and drew out, the tangled & twisted ones snapped one by one and fluttered slowly to the water, till only a few long gay streaks retained connection with the wharf. But there is a last in everything, and as the lone survivor of these paper strips finally broke, and with lazy flaps settled in the harbour water, there once more broke out a rousing cheer. It lasted for minutes. We roared ourselves hoarse, and in any lapse of the din beside us we could hear the answering roar from the wharf. But it finally died down and we began to find it hard to pick out our friends on the wharf. Individually, they were no longer distinguishable, but I could pick out the bunch of colour which represented our friends, and in the middle, the patch of Khaki which was Alan. It was awfully decent to Alan to come down, it quite made it worth while for me. Over this side too, we meet our friends and they are all in Khaki. We begin to wonder whether there is anything but Khaki in the world now. We soon rounded the Quay and the wharf was lost to sight, just as a misty rain commenced. It will take more than water to wash that farewell