And now the greatest delight of all had been added, for I could watch for my father's ship to come in. It would naturally land there, I argued; while he was living at the seashore he would have it come as near as possible to his house. It might run right up to the beach; they would put out a gangplank and one of the sailors would wheel my velocipede ashore.
Then I could spend the day riding it around the veranda of our cottage.
Or perhaps the ship would not be able to come so close to the shore. It would anchor a mile or two out, and send a boat. The velocipede might get wet coming in an open boat that way, and, if it were made of iron, the water would rust it. I hoped they would know enough to cover it up before they started to row in to the beach.
There were certainly no ships in sight that I could believe were my father's. Two fishing schooners were riding at anchor, and the smoke of a steamer showed on the horizon—that was all. I left the pond behind and walked out to the end of the little cape. At any moment my father's ship might come in sight, and it was surely well for me to be ready for her. The sailors would be glad to see me, for then they could hand over the velocipede, sail away again to wherever they came from, and get anything else my father might want.
Where were they coming from?
That was an interesting question. I could see no land out there, but I had been told that if a ship sailed straight ahead in that direction the first land reached would be Portugal.
"I wonder what kind of velocipedes they have in Portugal?"
I uttered this aloud, and I jumped when I heard a voice say:—
"What's that you are wondering?"