A Bid for Fortune by Guy Boothby (top 5 ebook reader .txt) 📕

“Mr. Hatteras,” he cried, running forward to greet me with outstretched hand, “this was all that was wanting to make my happiness complete. I am glad to see you. I hope your cabin is near ours.”

“I’m on the port side just abaft the pantry,” I answered, shaking him by the hand. “But tell me about yourself. I expect you had a pleasant journey across the continent.”

“Delightful!” was his reply. “We stayed a day in Paris, and another in Rome, and since we have been here we have been rushing about seeing everything, like a regulation pair of British tourists.”

At this moment Mr. Baxter, who had been looking after the luggage, I suppose, made his appearance, and greeted me with more cordiality than I had expected him to show. To my intense surprise, however, he allowed no sign of astonishment to escape him at my having joined the boat after all. But a few minutes later, as we were approaching the companion steps, he said:⁠—

“I understood from his lordship, Mr. Hatteras, that you were to embark at Plymouth; was I mistaken, therefore, when I thought I saw you coming off with your luggage this evening?”

“No, you were not mistaken,” I answered, being able now to account for his lack of surprise. “I came across the continent like yourselves, and only joined the vessel a couple of hours ago.”

Here the Marquis chimed in, and diverted the conversation into another channel.

“Where is everybody?” he asked, when Mr. Baxter had left us and gone below. “There are a lot of names on the passenger list, and yet I see nobody about!”

“They are all in bed,” I answered. “It is getting late, you see, and, if I am not mistaken, we shall be under way in a few minutes.”

“Then, I think, if you’ll excuse me for a few moments, I’ll go below to my cabin. I expect Mr. Baxter will be wondering where I am.”

When he had left me I turned to the bulwarks and stood looking across the water at the gleaming lights ashore. One by one the boats alongside pushed off, and from the sounds that came from for’ard, I gathered that the anchor was being got aboard. Five minutes later we had swung round to our course and were facing for the open sea. For the first mile or so my thoughts chased each other in rapid succession. You must remember that it was in Naples I had learnt that my darling loved me, and it was in Naples now that I was bidding goodbye to Europe and to all the strange events that had befallen me there. I leant upon the rail, looked at the fast receding country in our wake, at old Vesuvius, fire-capped, away to port, at the Great Bear swinging in the heavens to the nortard, and then thought of the Southern Cross which, before many weeks were passed, would be lifting its head above our bows to welcome me back to the sunny land and to the girl I loved so well. Somehow I felt glad that the trip to England was over, and that I was really on my way home at last.

The steamer ploughed her almost silent course, and three-quarters of an hour later we were abreast of Capri. As I was looking at it, Lord Beckenham came down the deck and stood beside me. His first speech told me that he was still under the influence of his excitement; indeed, he spoke in rapturous terms of the enjoyment he expected to derive from his tour.

“But are you sure you will be a good sailor?” I asked.

“Oh, I have no fear of that,” he answered confidently. “As you know, I have been out in my boat in some pretty rough weather and never felt in the least ill, so I don’t think it is likely that I shall begin to be a bad sailor on a vessel the size of the Saratoga. By the way, when are we due to reach Port Said?”

“Next Thursday afternoon, I believe, if all goes well.”

“Will you let me go ashore with you if you go? I don’t want to bother you, but after all you have told me about the place, I should like to see it in your company.”

“I’ll take you with pleasure,” I answered, “provided Mr. Baxter gives his consent. I suppose we must regard him as skipper.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need fear his refusing. He is very good-natured, you know, and lets me have my own way a good deal.”

“Where is he now?”

“Down below, asleep. He has had a lot of running about today and thought he would turn in before we got under way. I think I had better be going now. Good night.”

“Good night,” I answered, and he left me again.

When I was alone I returned to my thoughts of Phyllis and the future, and as soon as my pipe was finished, went below to my bunk. My berth mate I had discovered earlier in the evening was a portly English merchant of the old school, who was visiting his agents in Australia; and, from the violence of his snores, I should judge had not much trouble on his mind. Fortunately mine was the lower bunk, and, when I had undressed, I turned into it to sleep like a top until roused by the bathroom steward at half-past seven next morning. After a good bathe I went back to my cabin and set to work to dress. My companion by this time was awake, but evidently not much inclined for conversation. His usual jovial face, it struck me, was not as rosy as when I had made his acquaintance the night before, and from certain signs I judged that his good spirits were more than half assumed.

All this time a smart sea was running, and, I must own, the Saratoga was rolling abominably.

“A very good morning to you, my dear sir,” my cabin mate said, with an air of