Before she had gone in a quarter of a mile
she hoisted her flag, as the harbour regulations prescribe for arriving
and departing ships. I saw it suddenly flicker and stream out on the
flag staff. The Red Ensign! In the pellucid, colourless atmosphere
bathing the drab and gray masses of that southern land, the livid
islets, the sea of pale, glassy blue under the pale, glassy sky of that
cold sunrise, it was, as far as the eye could reach, the only spot of
ardent colour--flame-like, intense, and presently as minute as the tiny
red spark the concentrated reflection of a great fire kindles in
the clear heart of a globe of crystal. The Red Ensign--the symbolic,
protecting, warm bit of bunting flung wide upon the seas, and destined
for so many years to be the only roof over my head.
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