Excerpt: "“All aboard!” “All but passengers ashore.” The loud, stentorian voices of the officers of the magnificent palace steamer L’Orient, of the Peninsular and Oriental Line, sounded all along the Southampton docks, up the streets to the old gates, and even penetrated into some of the business houses of the quaint old English town. The shout, so commonplace to the citizens of Southampton, was one of serious import to those gathered on the deck of the steamer. Parting is never pleasant, and when the journey is a long one, and it is known the absence is for years, the last words are always tearful. On the deck stood two men, alone. Not one had come to bid them good-by or a godspeed on their journey. And yet tears filled the eyes of both. The elder was a bronzed veteran, his face as dark as that of any mulatto, his long, white moustache standing out in startling contrast to the color of his skin. He was sixty years of age, but his strong body, his hard muscles, and firm walk, would rather betoken a man of forty."
