"I say, Mr. Second Mate," he said, "I don't see the Plimsoll Mark on the funnel. Do you?"
"No, captain. I expect it has been washed off."
"If I was you I'd write to the Board of Trade about it."
"Best let sleeping dogs lie, captain."
"Why?"
"Because they might look for yours, and as it ought to be round your neck they would say you were unseaworthy."
"So you know what it is, you long swab?"
"Yes. Come and have a drink. That will reach your load-line all right."
Royson had hit on the right method of dealing with Stump. The skipper promised himself some fun, and they descended to the saloon. The Channel was in boisterous mood, and Dick staggered once or twice in transit. Stump missed none of this, and became more jovial. Thus might one of the Hereford stots he resembled approach a green pasture.
"If you ask the steward he'll bring you some belayin' tackle," he said.
"I am a trifle crank just now," admitted Royson, "but when the wind freshens I'll take in a reef or two."
Stump looked up at him.
"You've put me clean, out of reckonin'. Never bin to sea, you say?Wot's yer name?"
"King, Richard King."
"Damme, I'm comin' to like you. You're a bit of a charak-ter. By the time theAphroditepoints her nose home again I'll 'ave you licked into shape."
They were crossing the saloon, and were sufficiently noteworthy by force of contrast to draw many eyes. Indeed, were Baron von Kerber on board, he must have been disagreeably impressed by the fact that in sending the short skipper and the long second mate of theAphroditeto Marseilles in company he had supplied an unfailing means of tracking their movements. Of course, he was not responsible for the chance that threw them together, but the mere presence of two such men on the same vessel would be remembered quite easily by those who make it their business to watch trans-Channel passengers.
Royson gave no thought to this factor in the queer conditions then shaping his life. Had Stump remained taciturn, it might have occurred to him that they were courting observation. But it needed the exercise of much resourcefulness to withstand the stream of questions with which his commander sought to clear the mystery attached to a second mate who knew not the sea. Luckily, he emerged from the flood with credit; nay, the examiner himself was obliged at times to assume a knowledge which he did not possess, for, if Stump knew how to con a ship from port to port, Royson could give reasons for great circle sailing which left Stump gasping. At last, the stout captain could no longer conceal his amazement when Royson had recited correctly the rules of the road for steamships crossing:
If to my Starboard Red appear,It is my duty to keep clear;Act as Judgment says is proper—"Port"—or "Starboard"—"Back"—or "Stop her!"
But when, upon my Port is seenA steamer's Starboard light of green,For me there's naught to do, but seeThat Green to Port keeps clear of me.
"Come, now," he growled, "wot's your game? D'ye mean to say you've bin humbuggin' me all this time?"
His little eyes glared redly from underneath his shaggy eyebrows. He was ready to sulk again, without hope of reconciliation, so Royson perforce explained.
"I have no objection to telling you, captain, how I came to acquire a good deal of unusual information about the sea, but I want to stipulate, once and for all, that I shall not be further questioned as to my past life."
"Go ahead! That's fair."
"Well, I have spent many a day, since I was a boy of ten until I was nearly twenty, sailing a schooner-rigged yacht on Windermere. My companion and tutor was a retired commander of the Royal Navy, and he amused himself by teaching me navigation. I learnt it better than any of the orthodox sciences I had to study at school. You see, that was my hobby, while a wholesome respect for my skipper led me to work hard. I have not forgotten what I was taught, though the only stretch of water I have seen during the last few years is the Thames from its bridges, and I honestly believe that if you will put up with my want of experience of the sea for a week or so, I shall be quite capable of doing any work you may entrust to me."
"By gad!" said Stump admiringly, "you're a wonder. Come on deck. I'll give you a tip or two as we go into Calais."
During the journey across France it was natural that Royson should take the lead. He spoke the language fluently, whereas Stump's vocabulary was limited to a few forcible expressions he had picked up from brother mariners. There was a break-down on the line near Dijon, which delayed them eight hours, and Stump might have had apoplexy were not Royson at hand to translate the curt explanations of railway officials. But the two became good friends, which was an excellent thing for Dick, and the latter soon discovered, to his great surprise, that Stump had never set eyes on theAphrodite.
"No," he said, when some chance remark from Royson had elicited this curious fact, "she's a stranger to me. Me an' Tagg—Tagg is my first mate, you see—had just left theChirriawhen she was sold to the Germans out of the East Indian trade, an' we was lookin' about for wot might turn up when the man who chartered theAphroditeput us on to this job. Tagg has gone ahead with most of the crew, but I had to stop in London a few days—to see after things a bit."
Stump had really remained behind in order to buy a complete set of charts, but he checked his confidences at that point, nor did Royson endeavor to probe further into the recent history of the yacht.
Instead of traversing Marseilles at night, they drove through its picturesque streets in broad daylight. Both Royson and the captain were delighted with the lines of theAphroditewhen they saw her in the spacious dock. Her tapering bows and rakish build gave her an appearance of greater size than her tonnage warranted. Royson was sailor enough to perceive that her masts and spars were intended for use, and, when he reached her deck, to which much scrubbing and vigorous holy-stoning had given the color of new bread, he knew that none but men trained on a warship had coiled each rope and polished every inch of shining brass.
And his heart sank a little then. The looks and carriage of the few sailors visible at the moment betokened their training. How could he hope to hold his own with them? The first day at sea must reveal his incompetence. He would be the laughing-stock of the crew.
He was almost nervous when an undersized hairy personage shoved a grinning face up a companionway, and hailed Stump joyfully. Then the captain did a thing which went far to prove that true gentility is not a matter of deportment or mincing phrase.
"Keep mum before this crowd," he muttered. "Stand by, and I'll pull you through."
Stump extended a gigantic hand to the hairy one. "Glad to see you again, old Never-fail," he roared. "Let me introjuice our second mate. Mr. Tagg—Mr. King. An' now, Tagg, wot's for breakfast? Mr. King an' me can eat a Frenchman if you have nothin' tastier aboard."
Royson was relieved to find that he had practically no duties to perform until the yacht sailed. She had been coaled and provisioned by a Marseilles firm of shipping agents, and only awaited telegraphic orders to get up steam, in case the wind were unfavorable for beating down the Gulf of Lions, when Mr. Fenshawe and his party arrived.
Every member of the crew was of British birth, and Britons are not, as a rule, endowed with the gift of tongues. Hence, Royson was the only man on board who spoke French, and this fact led directly to his active participation in the second act of the drama of love and death in which, all unconsciously, he was playing a leading part. On the day after his arrival in the French port, the head partner of the firm of local agents came on board and explained that, by inadvertence, some cases of claret of inferior vintage had been substituted for the wine ordered. The mistake had been discovered in the counting-house, and he was all apologies.
Royson and he chatted together while the goods were being exchanged, and, in the end, the polite Frenchman invitedmessieurs les officiersto dine with him, and visit the Palais de Glace, where some daring young lady was announced to do things in a motor-car, which, in England, are only attempted by motor omnibuses.
Stump, who would not leave the yacht, permitted Tagg and Royson to accept the proffered civility. They passed a pleasant evening, and saw the female acrobat negotiate a thirty-feet jump, head downward, taken through space by the automobile. Then they elected to walk to No. 3. Basin, a distance of a mile and a half. It was about eleven o'clock and a fine night. The docks road, a thoroughfare cut up by railway lines holding long rows of empty wagons, seemed to be quite deserted. Tagg, who was slightly lame, though active as a cat on board ship, was not able to walk fast. The two discussed the performance, and other matters of slight interest, and they paid little heed to the movements of half a dozen men, who appeared from behind some coal trucks, until the strangers advanced towards them in a furtive and threatening way. But nothing happened. The prowlers sheered off as quickly as they came. Tagg, who had the courage which Providence sends to puny men, glanced up at Royson and laughed.
"Your size saved us from a fight," he said. "That gang is up to mischief."
"I wonder what they are planning," said Royson, looking back to see if he could distinguish any other wayfarers on the ill-lighted road.
"Robbery, with murder thrown in," was Tagg's brief comment.
"They had the air of expecting somebody. Did you think that? What do you say if we wait in the shadow a few minutes?"
"Better mind our own business," said Tagg, but he did not protest further, and the two halted in the gloom of a huge warehouse.
There was nothing visible along the straight vista of the road, but, after a few seconds' silence, they heard the clatter and rumble of a vehicle crossing a distant drawbridge.
"Some skipper comin' to his ship," muttered Tagg. "It can't be ours. ByGeorge, if those chaps tackled him they would be sorry for themselves."
"Captain Stump is a good man in a row, I take it?"
"'Good' isn't the word. He's a terror. I've seen him get six of his men out of a San Francisco crimp's house, an' I s'pose you 'aven't bin to sea without knowing wot that means."
"Ah!" said Royson admiringly. He had found safety many times during the past two days by some such brief comment. Thus did he steer clear of conversational rocks.
The carriage drew nearer, and became dimly visible—it was one of the tiny voiturettes peculiar to French towns. Suddenly the listeners heard a shout. The horse's feet ceased their regular beat on the roadway. Royson began to run, but Tagg vociferated:
"Wait for me, you long ijiot! If you turn up alone they'll knife you before you can say 'Jack Robinson.'"
Dick had no intention of saying "Jack Robinson," but he moderated his pace, and helped Tagg over the ground by grasping his arm. They soon saw that two men had pulled the driver off the box, and were holding him down—indeed, tying him hand and foot. Royson prevented the success of this operation by a running kick and an upper cut which placed two Marseillais out of action. Then he essayed to plunge into a fearsome struggle that was going on inside the carriage. Frantic oaths in German and Italian lent peculiar significance to a flourishing of naked knives. But that which stirred the blood in his veins was his recognition of Baron von Kerber's high-pitched voice, alternately cursing and pleading for life to assailants who evidently meant to show scant mercy. One man who, out of the tail of his eye, had witnessed Dick's discomfiture of the coachman's captors, drew a revolver, a weapon not meant for show, as its six loaded chambers proved when Dick picked it up subsequently.
Royson had no love of unnecessary risk. Stooping quickly, he grasped the hub of the off front wheel, and, just varying the trick which saved Miss Fenshawe in Buckingham Palace Road, threw the small vehicle over on its side. No doubt the patient animal in the shafts wondered what was happening, but the five struggling men in the interior were even more surprised when they were pitched violently into the road.
Royson sprang into the midst of them, found von Kerber, and said:
"You're all right now, Baron. We can whip the heads off these rascals."
The sound of his English tongue seemed to take all the fight out of the remaining warriors. Tagg had closed valiantly with one, and the others made off. Von Kerber rose to his feet, so Royson went to Tagg's assistance. He heard the Baron shriek, in a falsetto of rage:
"You may have recovered the papyrus, Alfieri, but it is of no value to you. Name of an Italian dog! I have outwitted you even now!"
While kneeling to pinion the footpad's arms behind his back, thus rescuing Tagg from a professor of the savate, Dick tried to guess von Kerber's motive in hurling such an extraordinary taunt after one of his runaway adversaries, and in French, too, whereas the other had an Italian name, and, in all likelihood, spoke only Italian. Was this Alfieri the man who "hated" von Kerber—who "brought a very serious charge" against him? But Royson was given no time for consecutive thought. The Baron, breathing heavily, and seemingly in pain, came to him and said, in the low tone of one who does not wish to be overheard:
"Let your prisoner go, Mr. King. I am all right, and everlastingly obliged to you, but I do not wish to be detained in Marseilles while the slow French law gets to work. So let him go. He is nothing—a mere hireling, yes? And we sail to-morrow."
"You've left your trademark on this chap," broke in Tagg. He was bending over a prostrate body, and the cab-driver was bewailing the plight of his voiturette.
Royson righted the carriage; then he lifted the man to a sitting position, and listened to his stertorous breathing. The blow had been delivered on that facial angle known to boxers as the "point," while its scientific sequel is the "knock-out."
"He is all right," was the cool verdict. "He will wake up soon and feel rather sick. The general effect will be excellent. In future he will have a wholesome respect for British sailors."
He laid the almost insensible form on the road again, pocketed the revolver, which he found close at hand, and gave an ear to von Kerber's settlement with thecocher. The latter was now volubly indignant in the assessment of damages to his vehicle, hoping to obtain a louis as compensation. When he was given a hundred francs his gratitude became almost incoherent.
The Baron cut him short, stipulating sternly that he must forget what had happened. Then he turned to Royson.
"If you think we can leave the fellow on the ground with safety, I want to reach the yacht," he said.
"Are you wounded?" inquired Dick.
"Slightly. Those scoundrels did not dare to strike home. They knew my papers would identify them."
"But they robbed you?"
"No, not of anything valuable. Why do you ask?"
"Because you sang out to one of them, an Italian, I should judge—"
"Ah, you heard that? You are, indeed, quick in an emergency. Can we go on, yes?"
"Certainly. I will just lift our dazed friend into the victoria, and tell thecocherto give him a glass of cognac at the first café he comes to."
This was done. Five minutes later, the first and second officers of theAphroditeassisted their employer up the yacht's gangway. Leaving Tagg to explain to Stump what had happened, Royson took von Kerber to his cabin, and helped to remove his outer clothing. A superficial wound on the neck, and a somewhat deeper cut on the right forearm, were the only injuries; the contents of a medicine chest, applied under von Kerber's directions, soon staunched the flow of blood.
"I do not wish anything to be said about this affair," began the Baron, when Royson would have left him.
"Tagg must have given the captain full details already," said Dick.
"But did he hear that name, Alfieri?"
"I think not."
"And he would not understand, about the—er—document?"
"The papyrus," suggested Royson.
"Yes."
"No. I don't suppose he would understand the word In English, whereas you spoke French."
"Ah, yes, of course. Well, that is between you and me. Will you ask Captain Stump and Mr. Tagg to join as in a bottle of wine? I would put matters in my own way, yes?"
The Baron, after a slight hesitancy, made his wishes clear. Mr. Fenshawe and his party would arrive at Marseilles by thetrain de luxenext morning, and preparations must be made for instant departure as soon as they came on board. They would be alarmed needlessly if told of the affray on the quay, so it was advisable that nothing should be said about it.
"You see," purred the Baron affably, refilling the glasses which Stump and Tagg had emptied at a gulp, "ladies, especially young ones, are apt to be nervous."
"Have we wimmen aboard this trip?" growled Stump in a deep rumble of disapproval.
"Ladies, yes. Two, and a maid."
Stump bore round on his chief.
"Wot did I tell ye, Tagg?" he demanded fiercely, "Didn't I say that them fixins aft meant no good?"
"You did," agreed Tagg, with equal asperity.
Von Kerber caught the laughter in Dick's eyes, and checked the angry protest ready to bubble forth.
"The twoladies," he said, speaking with an emphasis which strove to cloak his annoyance at Stump's offhanded manner, "are Miss Fenshawe, granddaughter of the gentleman who owns this yacht, and her companion, Mrs. Haxton. Without their presence this trip would not have been undertaken, and that fact had better be recognized at the outset. But now, gentlemen, I have come on ahead to have a quiet talk with you. Captain Stump knows our destination, but none of you is aware of the object of our voyage. I propose to take you fully into my confidence in that respect. By this time, you have become more or less acquainted with the crew, and, if you think any of the men are unsuitable, we must get rid of them at once."
He paused, and looked at Stump. That broad-beamed navigator emptied his glass again, and gazed into it fixedly, apparently wondering why champagne was so volatile a thing. Tagg followed the skipper's example, but fixed his eyes on the bottle, perhaps in calculation. Royson, deeming it wise to hold his tongue, contented himself with closing the medicine chest, and thus making it possible for von Kerber to sit down.
The latter was obviously ill at ease. Although he was the master of these three men, he was their inferior in individual strength of character. But he was a polished man of the world, and he promptly extricated himself from a difficult position, though Royson, at least, detected the effort he was compelled to make.
"I see you are thinking that one bottle does not go far among four of us, Mr. Tagg," he exclaimed, with a pleasantly patronizing air. "Kindly tell the steward to bring another, Mr. King. And some cigars. Then we can discuss matters at our ease. And will you make sure that we are not overheard? What I have to say is meant for the ship's officers alone at this moment, though, when the time for action comes, every man on board must be with us absolutely."
Dick summoned the steward, and ascertained that the watch were quietly chatting and smoking forward, whereas the Baron's stateroom was situated aft. The delay enabled von Kerber to collect his thoughts. When he resumed the promised disclosure, his voice was under control, and he spoke with less constraint.
"It is probable that you gentlemen are not familiar with the history of Egypt," he said, "but you may take it from me that the facts I now lay before you are accurate. At one time, about the beginning of the Christian era, the Romans were all-powerful in the Nile delta. They pushed their stations a long way south, almost to the borders of Abyssinia, but it is important, to remember that they followed the lines of the river, not the sea. In the year 24 B.C., the Roman Governor, hearing of the great wealth of a people called the Sabaeans, whose country lay in Arabia, in the hinterland of Mocha and Aden, sent an expedition there under the command of Aelius Gallus. This legion is historically reported to have met with reverses. That is true, in the sense that its galleys were beset by a terrible storm on the return voyage. Though the Red Sea is usually a fair-weather lake, you can have a stiff blow there at times, I believe, Captain Stump?"
Thus appealed to, Stump had to open his mouth.
"I've known it blow like sin," he said. "Isn't that so, Tagg?"
"Wuss nor sin, cap'n. Ord'nary manslaughter isn't in it with a nor'-east gale on a dark night off them islands north o' Perim."
"Exactly," agreed the Baron eagerly. "That is where the Roman triremes were caught. They were driven ashore in a little bay in what is now Italian territory. Their vessels were wrecked, but they saved the loot they had taken from the Sabaeans. The nature and value of that loss can hardly be estimated in these days, but you can draw your own conclusions when you learn that the city of Saba is more familiar to us under its Biblical name, Sheba. It was thence that the famous queen came who visited Solomon. Nearly a thousand years later, when the Roman legion sacked it with fire and sword, it was at the height of its glory."
Von Kerber, fairly launched in a recital glib on his lips, regained the dominance of manner which the attitude of his subordinates had momentarily imperiled. Increased composure brought with it a certain hauteur, and he paused again—perhaps to gratify the actor's instinct in him rather than observe the effect of his words. But the break was unfortunate. Tagg removed the cigar he was half chewing, half smoking, and said oracularly:
"The Queen o Sheba! I once knew a ship o' that name. D'ye remember her, cap'n?"
"Shall I ever forgit 'er?" granted Stump, "I wish them Romans had lootedher. W'en I was goin' down the Hooghly, she was comin' up, in tow. Her rope snapped at the wrong moment, an' she ran me on top of the James an' Mary shoal. Remember 'er, damn 'er!"
The Austrian, winced at this check to his story. These stolid mariners had no imagination. He wished to enthuse them, to fire them with the vision of countless wealth, but they had side-tracked ideality for some stupid reminiscence of a collision. In a word, they did him good, and he reached the point of his narration all the more speedily.
"As I was saying," he broke in rapidly, "the expedition met with disaster by sea. It was equally unfortunate on land. The commander built a small encampment, and sent for assistance the only seaworthy vessel left to him. He waited six months, but no help came. Then he determined to march inland—to strike a bold course for the Nile—but he was soon compelled to entrench himself against the attacks of hostile tribes. The probability is that the Sabaeans had interests on the western shores of the Red Sea as well as in Arabia. Indeed, the Abyssinians hold the belief to this day that their kings are descended from a son of the Queen of Sheba and Solomon. However that may be, Aelius Gallus buried his treasure, threw aside all useless impediments, and, like the daring soldier he was, decided in favor of attack. He fought his way for twenty marches, but was finally overthrown, with all his men, by a Nubian clan. The Romans were slain without mercy. Their conquerors knew nothing of the gold and jewels hidden in the desert three hundred miles distant, and that marvelous hoard, gathered from Persia and India by generations of traders, has lain there for nearly two thousand years."
This time he was sure he had riveted the attention of his hearers. They would have been dull, indeed, if their wits were not stirred by the possibilities underlying that last sentence. Royson, of course, jumped to conclusions which the others were slow to reach. But Stump was not backward in summing up the facts in his own way.
"Am I right in supposin' that you know where this stuff is hid, Mr. von Kerber?" he asked, his small eyes twinkling under the strain of continuous thought.
"Yes."
"Are you positive?"
"Yes."
"Does anybody else know?"
Royson felt that the Baron did not expect this question, but the answer came promptly:
"Mr. Fenshawe knows, and the two ladies who accompany him have a species of general knowledge."
"If I took c'rect bearin's, accordin' to your yarn the cargo is planted some distance from the coast?"
"About forty miles."
"An', while some of us goes after it, the yacht will stand off, an' on, waitin' orders, an' mebbe runnin' to Perim or Aden for letters."
"You have grasped the situation, exactly, Captain Stump."
The skipper shifted his cigar from one corner of his mouth to another.
"Sink me," he growled, "I thought it couldn't be gun-runnin' when there was wimmin mixed up in it. Didn't I say so, Tagg?"
"You did," agreed Tagg again.
"Gun-running!" repeated von Kerber, "You mean carrying contraband arms, yes? What put that into your head?"
"I've not bin cap'n of a ship nigh on fifteen years without larnin' the importance of knowin' wot she's loaded with," said Stump. "Big or little, in package or bulk, I go through her manifest, an' cheek, it, too."
The Baron laughed softly. He was pale, probably as the result' of his wounds, but he was inflexible in his resolve to arrive at an understanding with his lieutenants before the remaining passengers put in an appearance.
"Ganz gut, herr capitan!" he cried. "You must have seen our supply of firearms and cartridges, yes?"
"Twenty rifles, twenty-five revolvers, an' enough ammunition to fight a small war." Stamp ticked off each item slowly and looked at Tagg as though he expected him to cry "Tally!"
"Ah! That is well put, yes? If we are called on to fight a small war, as you say, have we got the right sort of men on board? I had to trust to chance. It was the only way. I could not talk plainly in England, you see."
"I don't know much about 'em," said Stump. "I can answer for myself an' Tagg, an' from wot I hear, Mr. King has a heart of the right size. As for the others, I'll run the rule over 'em between here an' Port Said. If I have any doubts about one or two, we can ship 'em home on a P. an' O. But, from the cut of their jibs, most of 'em are deserters from the Royal Navy, an' the remainder are army reserve men. That sort of crowd is pretty tough, eh, Tagg?"
"Tough!" echoed Tagg. "If they're 'lowed to eat three solid meals every day like the Lord Mayor's banquets they've put out o' sight since they kem aboard, there'll be no holdin' 'em."
"Oh, yes, there will.I'llhold 'em," said Stump.
"And you approve of my reticence thus far?" asked the Baron.
"Of your wot, mister?"
"I mean, that it was wise not to tell them the object of the voyage."
"Take my advice an' tell 'em nothin'. Wait till they're frizzlin' in the Red Sea, an' I've worked some of the grease out of 'em. By that time, wot between prickly heat an' high livin', they'll be ready to kill any Gord's quantity of I-talians."
"Italians!" snapped von Kerber irritably, "Why do you speak ofItalians?"
"It's your fairy-tale, mister, not mine. You said that wot's 'is name, the Roman who went through the Shebeens, had planted his takin's in I-talian territory."
"Ah!" The Austrian gasped a little, and his pallor increased. "That is of no consequence—the place—is a desert—we shall meet with no interference."
Then Royson spoke. Hitherto, he had taken no share in the conversation, but he saw that von. Kerber was unable to withstand any further strain. The man was bearing up gallantly, yet he had reached the limit of endurance, and the trouble, whatever it was, seemed to be wearing his very soul.
"Neither Captain Stump nor Mr. Tagg knows that you are wounded, sir," said Dick. "Perhaps it would, be advisable to defer our talk until the morning."
Von Kerber shaded his face with his hands.
"I cannot add much to what I have said already," he answered. "I think you understand me, I want silence—and good service. Give me these and I shall repay you tenfold."
They went on deck. Stump dug Royson in the ribs.
"It would ha' done me a treat to see you upper cut that Frog," he whispered, his mouth widening in a grin. "I'm good at a straight punch myself, but I'm too short for a swing. Lord love a duck, I wish I'd bin there."
So the burly skipper of theAphroditepaid slight heed to the wonders half revealed by von Kerber's story. He had been stirred but for a moment when the project was laid bare. Already his mind was rejecting it. The only matter that concerned him was to bring his ship to her destination in a seaman-like manner, and let who would perplex their brains with fantasy. Indeed, he was beginning to regard the Baron as a harmless lunatic, whom Providence had entrusted with the spending of a rich man's money for the special benefit of the seafaring community.
"A straight punch!" he repeated, gazing with a species of solemn joy at the men leaning against the rails forward. "They're a hard-bitten lot from wot I've seen of 'em, an' they'll have to have it before they're at sea with me very long. Won't they, Tagg?"
"They will," said. Tagg, eying the unconscious watch with equal fixity.
Dick went to his cabin firm in the belief that he would lie awake half the night. But his brain soon refused to bother itself with problems which time might solve in a manner not yet conceivable, and he slept soundly until he was roused at an early hour. Day dawned bright and clear. A pleasant northwesterly breeze swept the smoke haze from off the town and kissed the blue waters of the land-locked harbor into white-crested wavelets. He took the morning watch, from four o'clock until eight, and all he had to do was to make sure that the men tried to whiten decks already spotless, and cleaned brass which shone in the sun the instant that luminary peeped over the shoulder of Notre Dame de la Garde. Although theAphroditelay inside the mole, her bridge and promenade deck were high enough to permit him to see the rocky islet crowned by the Château d'If. He knew that the hero of Dumas' masterpiece had burrowed a tunnel out of that grim prison, to swim ashore an outcast, a man with a price on his head, yet bearing with him the precious paper whose secret should make him the fabulously rich Count of Monte Christo. It was only a soul-stirring romance, a dim legend transformed into vivid life by the genius of the inspired quadroon. But its extraordinary appositeness to theAphrodite'squest suddenly occurred to the young Englishman watching the sunlit isle. He was startled at the thought, especially when he contrasted his present condition with his depressed awakening in Brixton five days earlier. Then he laughed, and a sailor, busily engaged in polishing the glass front of the wheel-house, followed the direction of his gaze and half interpreted his daydream.
"It's a bit of a change from the West India Dock Road, ain't it, sir?" he asked.
Royson agreed with him, and the two conversed a while, but when the man led the chat round to the probable destination of the yacht, the second mate's thoughts fell from romance to reality.
"You will be told soon enough where we're bound for," he answered sharply.
"I'm sorry, sir, if I've said anything I shouldn't," said the other. "But the chaps forrard made out that there's a bit of a mystery in it, an' I argied they was talkin' nonsense."
"You were quite right. The owner and a party of ladies will be on board to-day, and then you will find out our destination."
"Ladies, you say, sir? That settles it. This is no Riff pirates job, then?"
Royson turned on his heel. So others, as well as Captain Stump, had drawn conclusions from those boxes of arms and ammunition? If Baron Franz von Kerber deemed it necessary to provide a warlike equipment, how could he permit an elderly gentleman like Mr. Fenshawe, and a charming girl like Irene, to say nothing of others yet unknown to Royson, to share in the risk of a venture demanding such safeguards? That was a puzzle, but it disturbed Dick not a whit. Somehow, the mention of the desert and its secret hoard had stirred him strangely. It seemed to touch unknown springs in his being. He felt the call of the far-flung solitude, and his heart was glad that fortune had bound up his lot with that of the winsome woman who smiled on him so graciously when they parted in Hyde Park.
Then a steward announced breakfast, and the mirage vanished. Captain Stump's greeting showed that his slumbers had not been disturbed by golden visions.
"Mornin'," he said. "I've just bin tellin' Tagg." Seeing that his second officer was not enlightened by this remark he went on:
"You'll want his help if I'm not alongside. Bless your 'eart, you can depend on Tagg. He'll never give you away. He thinks the world of you already."
The reminder was useful, though not in the sense intended, by Stamp. It brought Royson back to earth. He felt that he must justify himself if he would win his way among these rough sea-dogs. Hence, when a railway omnibus lumbered along the quay, and pulled up in front of the yacht's gangway, he remembered that he was Mr. King, probationary second mate on a small vessel, and not Richard Royson, heir to a baronetcy and rightful successor to an estate with a rent-roll of five thousand a year.
Mr. Fenshawe, exceedingly alert for one of his age, helped two ladies to alight. The first was Irene. Her admiring glance at theAphrodite, no less than an exclamation of delighted interest, revealed that she, too, like everyone else, was a stranger to the ship. She was followed by a pretty woman, whose clothes and furs were of a fashion which told even a mere man that she was a person of consequence. This was Mrs. Haxton, and her first action caused Dick to dislike her, because she deliberately turned her back on the smart yacht, and gave heed only to the safe lowering of certain trunks from the roof of the omnibus. He heard the manner of her speech to a neatly dressed maid and its languid insolence did not help to dissipate that unfavorable impression.
Miss Fenshawe ran along the gangway. Royson had stationed a sailor at the shoreward end, while he held the rail to steady it on deck.
"Good morning, Mr. King," she cried. "Has not Baron von Kerber arrived?"
"Yes," he said. "He came aboard late last night."
"Then why is he not here to meet us?"
"I believe he is fatigued after the long journey, Miss Fenshawe."
"Fatigued! Fiddlesticks! Look at my grandfather. Is he fatigued? And we have traveled over the same route. But I will deal with the lie-abed Baron when I see him. What a nice boat theAphroditeis. I am in love with her already. And is that Captain Stump? Good morning, captain. I have heard about you. Baron von Kerber says you will bite my head off if I come on the bridge. Is that true?"
"Shows how little Mr. von Kerber reely knows about me, ma'am," saidStump gallantly, beaming on her over the rail of the small upper deck.
By this time, Mrs. Haxton had satisfied herself that theAphrodite'screw might be trusted to bring her boxes on board without smashing them, and she gathered her skirts carefully to keep them clear of the quay. She raised a lorgnon, mounted on a tortoise-shell and silver handle, and examined the yacht with measured glance. She honored the stalwart second officer with a prolonged stare.
"Is that the captain?" she said to Mr. Fenshawe, who was waiting to escort her on board.
"No. That is Mr. King, the young man Irene told you about."
"Oh, indeed! Rather an Apollo Belvidere, don't you think?"
"He seems to be a nice young fellow, quite well-mannered, and that sort of thing. And it imposes somewhat of a strain on the imagination to picture him in the scant attire popular at Delphi."
Mr. Fenshawe was not without a dry humor, but Mrs. Haxton was pleased to be amused.
"What a light-hearted creature you are!" she cried, "I envy you your high spirits. Personally, I feel utterly downcast at the prospect of a sea voyage. It always blows a mistral, or some other horrid thing, when I cross the Mediterranean. Are you sure that little bridge won't move the instant I step on it? I have quite an aversion to such jim-crack appliances."
Mrs. Haxton's timidity did not prevent her from noting the arrival of a telegraph messenger on a bicycle. He was reading the name of the yacht when she said:
"Come here, boy. Have you a telegram for me?"
She used excellent French, and the messenger handed her the small blue envelope he was carrying. The lady dropped her eyeglasses, and scanned the address quickly before she read it aloud.
"Richard Royson, British YachtAphrodite, Marseilles," she announced, after a moment's pause.
"Who is Richard Royson?" she went on, looking from Mr. Fenshawe to the nearest officer of the ship, who happened to be Royson himself.
The incident was so unexpected that Dick reddened and hesitated. Yet he saw no reason why he should not proclaim himself.
"That message is meant for me, madam," he said.
"For you? But Mr. Fenshawe has just said that your name is King?" "Baron von Kerber bestowed that name on me, but he acted under a misapprehension. My name is Royson."
"How odd! How excessively odd!"
Mrs. Haxton seemed to forget her fear of the gangway. Advancing with sure and easy tread she gave Dick his telegram. And he was conscious, during one unhappy minute, that Irene, and Captain Stump, and Mr. Fenshawe, each in varying degree, shared Mrs. Haxton's opinion as to the exceeding oddity of the fact that any one should be masquerading on board theAphroditeunder an assumed name.
Royson was not in the least nonplussed by this recurrence of a dilemma for which he was not responsible. Von Kerber, of course, could have extricated him with a word, but von Kerber, for reasons of his own, remained, invisible. So Dick threw his head back in a characteristic way which people soon learnt to associate with a stubborn resolve to see a crisis through to the end. He ignored Mrs. Haxton, and spoke to the captain.
"I am glad the question of my right name has been raised," he said. "When Baron von Kerber comes on deck I shall ask him to settle the matter once and for all."
"Just so," said Stump, "I would if I was you."
"The really important thing is the whereabouts of our cabins," interrupted Mrs. Haxton's clear drawl.
"Take the ladies aft,—Mr. Royson,—an' let 'em choose their quarters," directed Stump curtly.
Dick would have obeyed in silence had not Miss Fenshawe thought fit to help him. She had found Mrs. Haxton's airs somewhat tiresome during the long journey from London, and she saw no reason why that lady should be so ready to bring a hornet's nest about Royson's ears.
"We are not in such a desperate hurry to bestow our belongings that you cannot read your telegram," she said to Dick. Then she favored Stump with a frank smile. "I know you mean to start almost immediately, captain, and it is possible that Mr. Royson may wish to send an answer before we leave Marseilles. You won't be angry if he waits one moment before he shows us to our staterooms?"
"Not at all, miss," said the skipper, "he's at your service. I can do without him—easy."
Stump was angry with Dick, and did not hesitate to show it. A blunt man, of plain speech, he resented anything in the nature of double-dealing. Royson's remarkable proficiency in most matters bearing on the navigation of a ship had amazed him in the first instance, and this juggling with names led him to suspect some deep-laid villainy with which the midnight attack on von Kerber was not wholly unconnected.
But the person most taken aback by Irene's self-assertion was Mrs. Haxton. A firm attitude on the girl's part came as an unpleasing novelty. An imperious light leaped to her eyes, but she checked the words which might have changed a trivial incident into a sharp tussle for supremacy.
"I am sorry," she said quietly. "Telegrams are important things, sometimes. And the messenger is waiting, too."
Thus, under the fire of many eyes, Royson tore open thepetit bleu, and read its typewritten contents. The words were brief, but sufficiently bewildering:
"Better return to England forthwith. I undertake full responsibility for advice, and guarantee you against loss, Forbes."
"Forbes," undoubtedly, was his uncle's solicitor. But how was it possible that he should have discovered the name of the yacht and her port of departure? And why did he, a methodical old lawyer, not only disobey his client's strict injunctions that no help or assistance of any sort was to be given to a rebellious nephew, but ignore Dick's own wishes, and address him as Royson, not as King?
There were twenty questions which might be asked, but staring at the flimsy bit of paper, with its jerky lettering, would not answer any of them. And the issue called for instant decision. Already, in obedience to a signal from Stump, men were standing by the fixed capstans on the mole ready to cast off the yacht's hawsers. Perhaps Sir Henry Royson was dying? Even in that unlikely event, of what avail was a title with nothing a year? Certainly, the solicitor's cautious telegram might be construed into an offer of financial aid. That reading implied a more cheerful view than he had taken hitherto of his prospects with regard to the Cuddesham estate. Yet, the only way in which he could meet Mr. Forbes's wishes was to spring ashore then and there, if such a proceeding were practicable, and abandon the adventure whose strange by-ways were already opening up before his mind's eye.
Then Irene said sympathetically:
"I hope you have not received any bad news, Mr.—Royson."
The captain's pause before addressing him by his real name was intended to be ironical. Not so the girl's hesitancy. Interpreting Dick's mood with her woman's intuition, she felt that he wished to drop any subterfuge now, no matter what his motive might have been in adopting one hitherto.
Her voice broke the spell which the telegram, with its curious phrasing, had cast on him.
"No, Miss Fenshawe, not bad news, certainly. Indeed, it was the absence of any sort of news that troubled me for a moment.Chasseur!"
"Oui, m'sieu'," and the messenger raised his hat.
"Voila!" Dick threw him a franc. "Il n'a pas de reponse."
"Merci bien, m'sieu'."
That spinning of a coin through the air showed that Royson had made up his mind. He had tossed with Fortune, and cared not who won.
The messenger drew away from the gangway, and entered into a conversation with the driver of the omnibus. Stump nodded to a man on the quay. The forward mooring rope was cleared, and fell into the water with a loud splash. Two sailors ran the gangway on board. An electric bell jarred in the engine-room, and the screw revolved, while the rattle of the steering chains showed that the helm was put hard a-port. When theAphroditemoved slowly astern, her bow swung towards the mouth of the dock. The indicator rang again, twice, and the yacht, after a pause, began to forge ahead. Another splash, and the second hawser was cast loose. The mole, the neighboring ships, the landward quays and the warehouses thereon, seemed to diminish in size without any perceptible cause, and, in a space of time that might have been measured by seconds rather than minutes, theAphroditewas throbbing southward.
Mrs. Haxton, whose eagerness to inspect her stateroom had gone, was hailed pleasantly by Irene.
"Now, because I asked you to wait, you shall have first choice," she said, "Lead on, Mr. Royson. Let us see our dens."
But Baron von Kerber came running along the deck, all smiles and welcoming words, and it was evident that some reason other than physical unfitness had kept him out of sight until the yacht's voyage was actually commenced. Dick heard him explaining coolly that he had met with a slight accident on arriving at Marseilles overnight. Some difficulty in dressing, he said, combined with the phenomenal punctuality of thetrain de luxe, accounted for his tardy appearance, but the ladies would find that the steward had everything in readiness, and Mr. Fenshawe was too experienced avoyageurnot to make himself at home instantly. Rattling on thus agreeably, he led the way aft.
In the midst of his explanations, he saw that Dick was accompanying the party, and told him, rather abruptly, that his services were not required. In no amiable mood, therefore, the second officer went to the upper deck, where the skipper was growling his views to Tagg about the mysterious incident of the telegram. It was a moment of tension, and something might have been said that would tend to place Royson and the captain at arm's length if theAphroditehad not taken it into her head to emulate Miss Fenshawe's action by coming to Dick's assistance. The little vessel remembered that which Stump paid small heed to, and asserted herself.
Notwithstanding her half-deck saloon, with the tiny chart-house perched thereon, and the narrow bridge that gave her a steamer-like aspect, she was rigged as a topsail schooner, her sharp lines and consequent extra length affording full play to her fore-and-aft sails. Her first owner had designed her with set purpose. It was his hobby to remain in out-of-the-way parts of the world for years at a time, visiting savage lands where coal was not procurable, and he trusted more to sails than to engine-power. But Stump, and his chief officer, and nearly every sailor on board, being accustomed to steam, despised windjammers, and pinned their faith to the engines.
With a favorable wind such as was blowing at the moment, or to steady the yacht in a cross sea, the captain would have set a foresail and jib. To help the propeller was good seamanship, but to bank the engine-room fires and depend wholly on sails was the last thing he would think of. Hence, theAphroditestraightway taught him a sharp lesson. While Stump was ruminating on the exact, form of some scathing remark for Royson's benefit, a sudden stoppage of the screw, and an ominously easy roll over the crest of the next sea, showed that the engines were idle.
Stump hurled a lurid question down the speaking-tube. The engineer's equally emphatic reply told him that there was a breakdown, cause not stated. Now, the outer roadstead of Marseilles harbor is one of the most awkward places in the Mediterranean for a disabled vessel. Though the Gulf of Lions is almost tideless, it has strong and treacherous currents. The configuration of the rocky coast, guarded as it is by small islands and sunken reefs, does not allow much seaway until a lighthouse, some miles distant from the mainland, is passed. Stump, of course, would have made use of the ship's sails before she drifted into peril. But he was purple with wrath, and the necessary commands were not familiar to his tongue.
Therefore, he hesitated, though he was far from remaining silent, and Royson, never at a loss when rapidity of thought and action was demanded, took the lead. He woke up the crew with a string of orders, rushed from foremast to mainmast and back to the bows again to see that the men hauled the right ropes and set the sails in the right way, and, had theAphroditebowling along under canvas in less than two minutes after the stopping of the screw. Not until every sheet was drawing and the yacht running free did it occur to him that he had dared to assume unto himself the captain's prerogative.
Rather red-faced and breathless, not only from his own exertions but by reason of the disconcerting notion which possessed him, he raced up the short companion-ladder leading from the fore deck to the bridge. Stump seemed to be awaiting him with a halter.
"I hope I did right, sir, in jumping in like that," gasped Dick. "I thought it best to get steering way on the yacht without delay, and—"
"Wot's yer name now?" roared Stump, glowering at him in a manner which led Dick to believe he had committed an unpardonable offense.
"Still the same, sir—Royson."
"I thought p'raps it might ha' bin Smith, as you're such a lightnin' change artist. Just bung in to the engine-room, will you, an' find out wot that son of a gun below there is a-doing of?"
"I will go if you like, sir, but I know nothing about engines."
"Take charge here, then. Keep her steady as she goes. You've a clear course half a mile to westward of that light."
Stump disappeared, and Royson found himself entrusted with full charge of the vessel ere she had been ten minutes at sea. His gruff commander could have paid him no greater compliment.
In the engineer, a man from West Hartlepool, the captain met one who spoke the vernacular.
"It's no good a-dammin' me because there's a flaw in a connectin' rod," he protested, when Stamp's strenuous questioning allowed him to explain matters. "I can't see inside a piece of crimson steel any more'n you can."
"None of your lip, my lad, or I'll find flaws all over you, P. D. Q.Can you fix this mess at sea, or must we put back?"
The engineer quailed under Stump's bovine eye.
"It would be better to put back, sir. I may be able to manage, but it's doubtful."
Stump went aft to consult von Kerber. So speedily had the yacht's mishap been dealt with that no member of the saloon party was aware of it, though any sailor among them, would have recognized instantly that the vessel was traveling under canvas. The Baron, when he heard what had taken place, was most emphatic in vetoing the suggestion that theAphroditeshould return to Marseilles, and Stamp was equally determined hot to sail through, the Straits of Bonifacio in half a gale of wind. As a compromise, a course was shaped for Toulon, and that port was made during the afternoon. It was the wisest thing to do, under the circumstances. Toulon is the French naval base for the Mediterranean, and her marinechantiersnot only repaired the engines in a few hours, but supplied a set of spare parts, a wise precaution in view of the yacht's probable sojourn in a locality where castings would be unattainable.
Thenceforth the voyage proceeded smoothly. Royson took the first opportunity of explaining to von Kerber how and why the mistake as to his name had arisen, and the Baron only smiled, in his superior way, having recovered his somewhat domineering manner from the hour that the French coast-line sank beneath the horizon.
Stump soon ascertained that theAphroditemade better weather and faster running as a schooner than as a steamship when the wind suited, and Royson's position on board was rendered all the more secure thereby. For the rest, Dick lived the humdrum life of the ship. Naturally, he saw a good deal of the occupants of the saloon, but the acquaintance did not progress beyond formalities. The two ladies read, and walked, and played bridge with Mr. Fenshawe and the Baron. They took much interest in Stromboli and the picturesque passage through the Straits of Messina, and the red glare of Etna kept them on deck for hours. Then the yacht settled down for the run to Port Said, and arrived at that sunlit abode of rascality on the first of November.
Here the stores and coal bunkers were replenished, but no member of the crew was allowed to land. Cablegrams, letters, and newspapers came in bundles for the cabin-folk. The only communication of any sort for officers or men was a letter addressed to Royson by name. Von Kerber constituted himself postman, and he brought the missive to Dick in person, but not until theAphroditehad entered the canal after shipping her French pilot and search-light.
He was annoyed, though he veiled his ill-humor under an affected carelessness.
"How came you to give Port Said as a port of call to one of your correspondents?" he asked.
"I did not," said Dick, whose surprise was genuine enough to disarm suspicion.
"Then some one has made a very accurate guess, yes?" sneered the other.
"I expected no letter from any person under the sun, and I certainly told no one I was passing through Port Said, for the sufficient reason that I never even thought of the place until you informed me yourself, sir, that we were bound for the Red Sea."
"It is strange. Well, here is your letter. Perhaps, when you have read it, you may understand how the thing happened. I wished our destination to remain hidden, from the general public, and you are the only man on board, except Mr. Fenshawe and myself, whose whereabouts are known in London."
Now it chanced that the postmark was illegible, and, furthermore, that von Kerber had already read the letter by adopting the ingenious plan of the Russian censor, who grips the interior sheet in an instrument resembling a long, narrow curling-tongs, and twists steadily until he is able to withdraw it uninjured. But Stiff legal note-paper is apt to bear signs of such treatment. Somewhat later in the day, Royson saw these things, and was perplexed. At the moment, he merely broke open the envelope.
It was a brief communication from Mr. Forbes. "I telegraphed to you at Marseilles," it said, "and have ascertained that my message was delivered to you. I regret your apparent decision not to fall in with my request. Sir Henry Royson is ill, almost dangerously so, and I have reason to believe that he wishes to make amends to you for his past attitude. I received your letter, wherein you stated that you were shipping on some vessel under the name of King, but I had little difficulty in tracing you to Mr. Fenshawe's yacht, and I do not feel justified in recognizing your unnecessary alias. Again, I advise you to return. I am sure that your employer, a most estimable man, will not place any difficulties in your way. If you leave theAphroditeat Port Said or Ismalia, and send me a cablegram, I will remit by cable funds sufficient for your needs."
Dick had deemed this disturbing problem dead and done with. He had not hesitated at Marseilles, nor was he less decided now. He held out the letter to von Kerber frankly, little thinking how close a scrutiny had been given to his face while he was learning its contents.
"Read it," he said, "and you will see for yourself that I am in no way responsible."
Von Kerber seemed to be taken aback by this display of confidence.
"No, no," he said loftily. "I do not wish it. I have your word. That is sufficient."
"May I send an answer?"
"Yes, from Suez."
And the incident might have ended there had it not been brought into sharp prominence that evening. Mr. Tagg took the first watch, from eight o'clock to midnight. Under ordinary conditions, Royson, who was free until four in the morning, would have gone to his cabin and slept soundly. But, like many another who passes through the great canal for the first time, he could not resist the fascination of the ship's noiseless, almost stealthy, passage through the desert.
After supper, while enjoying a pipe before turning in, he went forward and stood behind the powerful electric lamp fitted in the bows to illumine the narrow water-lane which joins East and West. The broad shaft of light lent a solemn beauty to the bleak wastes on either hand. In front, the canal's silvery riband shimmered in magic life. Its nearer ripples formed a glittering corsage for the ship's tapered stem, and merged into a witches' way of blackness beyond. The red signal of a distantgare, or station, or the white gleam of an approaching vessel's masthead light, shone from the void like low-pitched stars. Overhead the sky was of deepest blue, its stupendous arch studded with stars of extraordinary radiance, while low on the west could be seen the paler sheen of departing day. At times his wondering eyes fell on some Arab encampment on the neighboring bank, where shrouded figures sat round a fire, and ghostly camels in the background raised ungainly heads and gazed at the ever-mysterious sight of the moving ship.
The marvelous scene was at once intimate and remote. Its distinguishable features had the sense of nearness and actuality of some piece of splendid stagecraft, yet he seemed to be peering not at the rigid outlines of time but rather into the vague, almost terrifying, depths of eternity. And it was a bewildering fact that this glimpse into the portals of the desert was no new thing to him. Though never before had his mortal eyes rested on the far-flung vista, he absorbed its soothing glamour with all the zest of one who came back to a familiar horizon after long sojourn in pent streets and tree-shrouded valleys.
Time and again he strove to shake off this eerie feeling, but it was not to be repelled. He fought against its dominance, and denounced its folly, yet his heart whispered that he was not mistaken, that the majestic silence conveyed some thrilling message which he could not understand. How long he stood there, and how utterly he had yielded to the strange prepossession of his dream, he scarce realized until he heard a soft voice close behind him.
"Is that you, Mr. Royson?" it said, and he was called back from the unknown to find Miss Fenshawe standing near.
"I beg your pardon," he stammered. "I was—so taken up with this—to me—most entrancing experience—"
"That you did not hear my fairy footsteps," she broke in, with a quiet laugh. "Do not apologize for that. I am wearing list slippers, so my ghostlike approach is easily accounted for. And I am really very greatly relieved at having found you at all. I was afraid you had left the ship without my knowledge."
"But how could that be possible, Miss Fenshawe?" he asked, startled out of his reverie by her peculiar phrase.
"Please don't speak so loudly," she said, dropping her voice almost to a whisper. "I have been looking for you during the past half hour. I came here twice, but you were so wrapped up in shadow that I failed to see you, and I was becoming quite anxious, because one of the men assured me you were not in your cabin."
Dick caught a flurried note in her utterance, a strained desire to avoid the semblance of that anxiety which she had just admitted. It puzzled him quite as much as the curious sense of familiarity with his surroundings, a sense which the girl's unexpected appearance had by no means dispelled. And he was oddly conscious of a breaking away of the social barrier of whose existence she, at least, must have been convinced. The mere whispering together in this lonely part of the ship might account for it, to some extent, so he braced himself for the effort to restore her self-control.
"I came here to have a good look at the desert by night," he said. "You may be sure, Miss Fenshawe, that I had little notion you were searching for me. It was by the merest accident that I was able to stow myself out of sight in this particular locality."
She laughed softly again, and her manner became perceptibly less constrained.
"A big man and a small ship—is that it?" she asked. "Tell me, Mr. Royson, why did that officer of the Guards call you 'King Dick' on the morning of the carriage accident?"
Had the girl racked her brain for a day to frame a question intended to perplex Royson she could not have hit on one of more penetrating effect. He was astounded not because she had heard Paton's exclamation, but by reason of the flood of light which her recollection of it at that moment poured on his own wandering thoughts.
"It is a most amazing thing that you should ask me that, MissFenshawe," he cried.
"Sh-s-s-h. I have always imagined you to be a man who would smile in the midst of earthquakes, yet here you are quite dazzled by a harmless bit of feminine curiosity. Don't you wish me to know how you came by that nickname? I suppose it is one?"
"There is no other in whom I would confide so willingly," he said. "Promise you will not laugh at me if I tell you more than you bargain for."
"What? Is there humor in the story?"
"Let us see. I am hardly a fair judge. At present I am more than mystified. It is easy enough to explain why I was called 'King Dick' at school. That is a mere preface to my romance. One of the cherished traditions of my family is that we are lineal descendants of King Richard the First of England."
"Good gracious!"
"The statement lends itself to disbelief, I admit—"
"Why do you think me disbelieving?"
"Pray forgive me, Miss Fenshawe. I am in doubting mood myself to-night. At any rate, the lineage of the Roysons has not been disputed during many centuries. Our name is part of our proof, and there has been a Richard Royson associated with Westmoreland ever since Coeur-de-Lion returned from Palestine. That is the kind of family asset a boy will brag of. Joined to a certain proficiency in games, it supplies a ready-made nickname. But the wonderful and wholly inexplicable thing is that while I have been standing here, watching our head-light dancing over the desert, the fantastic conceit has invaded my very soul that I share with my kingly ancestor his love of this land, his ambition to accomplish great deeds in its secret places, his contempt and scorn of all opposing influences. Do you remember how he defied a rain of blood which scared his courtiers? One of his friends has placed on record the opinion that if an angel from heaven bade Richard abandon his work he would have answered with a curse. Well, I am poor, and of slight consequence in the world to-day, but at least it has been vouchsafed me to understand what a strong man and a king can feel when there are those who would thwart his will. At present, I am powerless, as little able to give effect to my energies as Richard himself when pent in an Austrian prison, but I do ask that some Blondel shall free me, no matter what the ransom, and that Fate shall set me a task worthy of the man who fought and dreamed and planned empires out there eight centuries ago."
Royson threw back his head, and stretched his right hand toward the desert where lay Jaffa and Jerusalem. He was quite carried away by the magic of the hour. He had brushed aside the cobwebs of society, and spoke to Irene as a gallant and fearless youth might address the maid at whose feet he hoped to lay the trophies gained in winning his knighthood. And she, as might be expected, responded to the passionate chord which sounded this challenge to fortune. She, too, forgot convention, for which Heaven be praised!
"You have my prayers for your success," she whispered. "What is more, I believe in you, and that is why I am here now, for I have come to ask you, for my sake and the sake of one whom I love, not to leave this ship until I bid you."
At any other moment such a request must have had a sinister sound. Coming then, it seemed to be a direct answer to Dick's excited appeal to the unseen power that governs men's lives. He turned and looked into her eyes. She was so near to him that he could see the wondrous light shining in their limpid depths. He felt the fragrance of her presence, the glow of her tender beauty, and she did not shrink from him when he placed a protecting hand on her shoulder.
"You need no promise from me, Miss Fenshawe," he said, with a labored utterance that was wholly unaccountable to him. "Twice already have I refused to leave you, though I have been summoned to England to resume an inheritance wrongfully withheld. We are stubborn, we Richards, and we are loyal, too. It was you, I now believe, who snatched me from misery, almost from despair. Have no fear, therefore, that I shall desert you."
"You have taken a load from my heart," she answered softly. "You are the only man on board In whom I have any real confidence. I fear that my grandfather has been misled, wilfully and shamefully misled, but I am unable to prevent it for lack of proof. But to-night, after dinner, I chanced to overhear a conversation with reference to you which redoubled the doubts I have felt ever since this expedition was decided on. I feel that I must tell you. Baron von Kerber distrusts you because you are a gentleman. He fears you will act as one if you have to choose between his interests and your own honor. And today, since your letter arrived—"
"Yes, ma'am," they heard Captain Stump shout from the bridge, "Miss Fenshawe is forrard, with Mr. Royson. You'll find it a very pretty sight goin' through the canal on a night like this."
And Mrs. Haxton, hunting the ship for Irene—not to speak of Royson and the girl herself when in calmer mood—may have wondered why Stump should trumpet forth his information as though he wished all on board to hear it. Perhaps it was, as Dick already well knew, that the stout skipper had good eyesight as well as a kind heart.