“And you don’t feel safe as to the payment, eh? If that is all, you may weigh anchor and hoist sail at once, for I have not come unprovided,” said General Lyon, taking out his pocket-book and displaying a large roll of hundred pound Bank of England notes.
“You do not suspect them to be counterfeits, I hope?” laughed the General.
“Oh, no! beg pardon, sir. It is all right now, I am only an agent, sir, and held responsible by my employers.”
“To be sure. And now I hope you can set your crew to work.”
“Are you going just as you are, sir? Would you like to go on shore first?”
“We have no time to lose in going on shore. We shall go to St. Aubins just as we are. I suppose there are shops in that town where one may procure the necessaries of life?”
“Oh, certainly, sir.”
And the captain of the yacht went aft and called all hands on deck, and gave his orders, and, by dint of loud hallooing and hard swearing, got them so promptly executed that when the tide turned the yacht sailed.
They had a very fine run under the starlit sky over the calm sea; but for the painful errand they would have been a party of pleasure. Even as it was, they enjoyed the trip. There was nothing on General Lyon’s conscience, or on Dick’s mind, to deaden either of them to the heavenly beauty of the night. They had slept on the train, and so now they were wide awake on the yacht.
They walked up and down the deck talking sociably with each other, admiring the elegant form and the swift-sailing of the yacht, delighting in the fresh breezes of the ocean, and almost worshiping the glory of the star-spangled heavens.