“All right, boss; no shirt!” said he of the razor.
“Well, I was just telling you,” returned the big man. “And now, quiet, all hands. If we can slip aboard without anybody hailing us, it’ll be healthier for us, whatever it may be for other people.”
Once more the noises of the forest, and the occasional creaking of the sloop’s gear, made up the only sounds; and from beyond the western treetops the brazen sun took a final glare at them before it dived to rest for the night. The negro who had been singing the hymn sat on the fore-deck, and stropped a razor on the bare sole-leather of his foot. The two white men re-charged their revolvers.
CHAPTER XV.
RESULTS IN LONDON.
“How awfully ghastly!” said Amy Rivers.
“Yes,” said Fairfax; “those anarchist people ought to be shot down like dangerous wild beasts whenever they open their mouths! Think of it! not only a fine ship, but half a million in specie, blotted out of existence by this murderous bomb! It will come fearfully heavy on some of the underwriters. There will be a black pay-day at Lloyd’s when they settle up over this. You never saw such excitement as there is in the City. Papers were selling at half a crown apiece!”
“And is it certain that poor Mr. Onslow is drowned?”
“I’m afraid, practically so. The two lifeboats were picked up next morning, and their crews taken into Mobile. When they came to count heads it was found that the captain and Onslow and one of the engine-room hands were missing. In the hurry of the escape they seem to have got into neither lifeboat. The telegram says that no other boat would have lived a minute in the sea that was running at the time, even if one had been lowered. And the mate, who writes, does not think that this was even attempted, because the Port Edes sank before the two lifeboats had driven out of sight. We had a private cablegram at the office before I left, and that told how other steamers crossing that part of the Gulf had been on the look-out, but up to then not even so much as a scrap of wreckage had been sighted. So I fear it is past a doubt that she sank like a stone in deep water, and took those poor fellows down with her.”
“It is horribly sad, especially when one remembers what I heard this morning, Hamilton. The girl Mr. Onslow went wild about six years ago is out in Florida this minute, and free. Duvernay, the man she married, died six months ago of malarial fever. You know Mr. Onslow was engaged to her just after he left Cambridge and went as an attaché, and was desperately fond of her, as I imagined he could be; and when her people forced her into marrying the other fellow, he threw up his post and wandered into all the most out-of-the-way corners of the earth to try and forget things. What makes me so interested is this: I’ve just found out that she was a Miss Mabel Kildare before she was married, and when I was a child I used to know her sister Elsie very well indeed. In fact, I believe we were some sort of cousins, and for half a year we had the same governess together, and were as intimate as two children could be. Then her sister married Mr. Duvernay, who had a colonial appointment, and Elsie went with them abroad, and we dropped completely out of touch with one another. Strange, isn’t it, that I should hear of her again the same day that brings news of poor Mr. Onslow’s death?”