In his casual way—for I must remind you that he and I had lost all trace of Foe and Farrell in New York—Jimmy lit on the next item of news.
Long before the Eurotas was posted as "missing," the newspapers published a list of her passengers. Jimmy, seizing on this, ran his eye down it, and let out the sort of cry with which he greets all news, good, bad, or indifferent.
"I say, Otty!—here it is, and what do you make of it?
—'The s.s. Eurotas.… List of Passengers.
"Mr. and Mrs. P. Farrell, San Ramon, Peru.
Professor J. Foe, of London.…'"
—'The s.s. Eurotas.… List of Passengers.
"Mr. and Mrs. P. Farrell, San Ramon, Peru.
Professor J. Foe, of London.…'"
And after that there was silence for four years. The bell at Lloyd's never rang to announce the arrival of the Eurotas. By Christmas her underwriters were paying up, and the newspapers had lost interest in her fate.
NIGHT THE FIFTEENTH.
REDIVIVUS.
About seven weeks later Norgate called on me with evidence that settled the last doubt: a letter from Foe, written from Valparaiso. It was brief enough. It merely announced that he was on the eve of sailing for Sydney and wished to have credit for £600 opened with the Bank of New South Wales. "I have booked a berth on the Eurotas," it concluded, "and go aboard to-night. She's a new ship, owned by a new line, of which you may or may not have heard—the 'Southern Cross Line.' We hear enough about it in this town, the Company having contrived to fall foul of the dock labour here. I don't know the rights or wrongs of it, but some sort of boycott is threatened. However, this sort of dispute usually gets itself settled at the last moment; and anyhow I shall get to Sydney by some means or other. So you may safely mail there. No need to cable. I have plenty of money for immediate purposes."