'Very well, sir, then I'll be off. It's about three thousand miles, and she's supposed to do that at eighteen knots with her own coal. Say eight days. But as this is her maiden trip we must make allowance for having to stop the engines once or twice. Good-morning, sir.'
'Good-day, Captain. Get in some coal and provisions as soon as you arrive in Venice. I may want to go to Timbuctoo, or to Andaman Islands or something. I'm that sort of a man. I'm not sure where I'll go. Good-bye.'
The Captain stopped at the first telegraph office on his way to the Waterloo Station and telegraphed both to his chief engineer, Mr. M'Cosh, and his chief mate, Mr. Johnson, for he thought it barely possible that one or the other might be ashore.
'Must have steam by 4 P.M. to-day to sail at once long voyage. Coming next train. Owner in hurry. Send ashore for my wash. Brown, Captain.'
When the clocks struck five on shore that afternoon, and the man at the wheel struck two bells from the wheel-house, and the look-out forward repeated them on the ship's bell, all according to the most approved modern fashion on large steamers, the beautiful Lancashire Lass was steaming out upon Southampton Water.
Out of the merest curiosity Mr. Van Torp telegraphed [{103}] to Cowes to be informed of the exact moment at which his yacht was under way, and before six o'clock he had a message.
'Yacht sailed at four thirty-nine.'
The new owner was so much pleased that he actually smiled, for Captain Brown had been twenty-one minutes better than his word.
'I guess he'll do,' thought Mr. Van Torp. 'I only hope I may need him.'
He was not at all sure that he should need the Lancashire Lass and Captain Brown; but it has often been noticed that in the lives of born financiers even their caprices often turn out to their advantage, and that their least logical impulses in business matters are worth more than the sober judgment of ordinary men.