In answer to their inquiries, they were told of a swift-sailing, schooner-rigged yacht, owned by a company that were in the habit of letting it out to parties of pleasure for excursions to the Channel Isles or along the coast. And they were directed to the spot where the “Flying Foam” lay idly at anchor, and were told that the master of the crew was also the agent of the company.
Encouraged by this information, our party engaged a row-boat, and went out into the harbor, and boarded the “Flying Foam.”
The master happened to be on deck. He came forward to meet the boarding-party.
“Is this yacht disengaged?” inquired the General.
“Yes, sir.”
“Can we engage it for immediate service?”
“For immediate service—that is very sudden, sir?” remarked the master, looking suspiciously at the speaker.
“I know it is, but so is our business sudden, being a matter of life and death. We cannot wait for the sailing of the steamer. But we are willing to pay extra price for extra haste,” replied the General.
And there was that about his stately form and fine face, and martial manner which rebuked the suspicion, while the words, and particularly the promise of extra pay appealed to the interest of the agent.
“You want the yacht immediately, you say, sir?” he inquired.