"I regret, captain—really, I forget your name; but let that pass; but when I came on board, I told this gentleman that I would sleep forward with the men. I have not cared to speak about it before, but I can assure you that I have the worst dreams in that state-room that I ever had in my life. I shall try to recompense you for the passage of my companions and myself when we arrive at St. John's;" and rising, he bowed haughtily, and withdrew to the deck.
Ten minutes later he was joined by Blake.
"The captain has apologized to us, and begs that you will come to his room, as he is too weak to leave the cabin."
La Salle attended the good-hearted sailor to the inner cabin, where a mattress lay upon the table, and many appliances, among them a couple of broad bandages of stout canvas, bore witness to the severity of the captain's late illness. The sick man attempted to rise from his chair as he entered, but was evidently very weak, and La Salle interposed,—
"Don't rise, captain, I beg of you. I see you are very weak, and perhaps I was too ready to take offence. We should not always notice—"
"The disagreeable acts of a sick and almost heart-broken man," interposed Randall, with a smooth, deceitful softness of tone, that instantly reawakened La Salle's antipathies. "I beg you, however," he continued, "to excuse me, and to make yourself at home in your old quarters. I should like to talk with you about your strange cruise, but at St. John's we may have a better opportunity over a bottle of wine."
"I shall be glad to meet you with my friends as soon as I can see Smith & Co., and get some notes changed, so that I can buy suitable clothes for myself and friends;" and bowing, La Salle withdrew.
That night La Salle looked well to the fastenings of his door, lashing the knob of the lock to a corner of his berth, where a knot had dropped out of the deal. Several times he felt the thin partition tremble, and heard the noise of some one tampering with the lock; but at last morning came, and three hours later the steamer lay at anchor off the city of St. John's.
The party had funds enough to secure a change of apparel and respectable quarters, until they should hear from Waring's father, to whom he had telegraphed their safe arrival, and want of money. A telegram to the wife of the new captain of the Mercedes, conveyed to Baltimore the news of the death of her brother-in-law.
Of course the party received much attention, and for a few days they were the lions of the city, although tales of adventure on the ice are of too frequent occurrence in St. John's, to awaken any lasting interest; for scarcely a winter elapses without the arrival of one or more crews who have seen their vessel disappear beneath the resistless pressure of colliding icebergs.