[CHAPTER XXII]
ONE MORE RUN
The next morning came bright and beautiful, with a pleasant fresh breeze. It was just the day for a run in the yacht. So I thought when I mounted on deck at eight o’clock in the morning. Watkins was there, staring meditatively at the harbour and the street beyond. Perceiving me, he touched his hat and observed:
‘It’s a queer little place, my lord.’
My eyes followed the direction of Watkins’s, and I gave a slight sigh.
‘Do you think the island is going to be quiet now, Watkins?’ I asked.
I do not think that he quite understood my question, for he said that the weather looked like being fine. I had not meant the weather; my sigh was paid to the ending of Neopalia’s exciting caprices; for, though the end was prosperous, I was a little sorry that we had come to the end.
‘The Lady Phroso will come on board about ten, and we’ll go for a little run,’ I said. ‘Just look after some lunch.’
‘Everything will be ready for your lordship and her ladyship,’ said Watkins. Hitherto he had been rather doubtful about Phroso’s claim to nobility, but the news of last night planted her firmly in the status of ‘ladyship.’ ‘Has your lordship heard,’ he continued, ‘that the launch is to carry the Governor’s body to Constantinople? There she is by the gunboat.’
‘Oh, yes, I see. They seem to be giving the gunboat a rub down, Watkins.’
‘Not before it was necessary, my lord. A dirtier deck I never saw.’