In passing on the deck, the adversaries met face to face. Each raised his hat with a stiff bow and passed on—Prince Ernest and his suite to the forward end of the boat, Alexander and his party to the aft. And they took good care not to meet again during the voyage.
They had a fair day for their foul deed. The sky was unusually clear, the air calm, and the sea smooth. The steamer ran at the rate of ten knots an hour.
Alexander and his party sat at the stern looking out at sea, and reading or pretending to read the morning papers served around by a newsboy who had the run of the boat.
The boat was certainly not crowded. In fact there were very few passengers on board. And among them Alexander and his party saw not a face they knew except those of Prince Ernest and his second.
At two o’clock lunch was served in the saloon.
“Will you come down? we have had but a slight breakfast,” pleaded Tredegar.
“I cannot sit at the same table with a man I am about to fight and perhaps to kill,” muttered Alexander.
“Nor would he sit at the same table with you, it is to be presumed. But there are probably several tables in the saloon. There goes Prince Ernest! his fire-eating propensities do not take away his appetite for milder food it seems. Let him select his table and then let us go down and take some other,” suggested Tredegar.
Alexander assented. And in a few minutes they descended to the saloon and took seats at a table as far as possible from that occupied by Prince Ernest.
The luncheon was a liberal one, as good as a dinner—with soup, fish, fowl, roast and boiled joints, pastry, cheese, and fruits. The wines were good and cheap, various and abundant.