"Lower the sails!" Mr. Lawrence shouted into the wind, and soon he received his response when the sails unfurled one after the other. They were within miles of France. At last, they had arrived.
Standing by the rail beside an empty crate, Madelyn watched the men work together, bringing the ship to port. Through a telescope, Mr. Brand stared at the French docks, filled with anchored vessels resting upon the bright blue ocean.
Guy leaned heavily against a rail and waved out to no one in particular, grinning as another sail dropped. "France is beautiful!" he called.
"You say so now," Mr Stephen commented from the helm where he stood with Mr Lawrence. "Every road unploughed is beautiful," he added dryly.
"But it is beautiful."
"Hear, hear." someone replied.
Madelyn's eyes flitted from one man to the next. They were unmistakably glad to have reached port even though they teased Guy's joy. Mr Lawrence too, who smiled less than any of them, seemed lighter than usual.
