The man with the baggage job looked uncomfortable.
Crang danced up and down on the floor of the cabin.
“On the way to South America to stay six months,” he yelled insanely, “and my baggage left behind! I can't go on without my baggage, do you hear?”
There was a whispered conference between the two men. The steward vanished through the doorway.
“I've sent for the purser, sir,” volunteered the other.
Crang stormed up and down the floor.
Presently the purser appeared. Crang swung on him on the instant.
“You've left my baggage behind!” he shouted. “My papers, plans, everything! I can't go on without them!” He shook his fist. “You'll either get that baggage here, or get me ashore!”
The purser eyed Crang's fist, and stiffened perceptibly.
“I'm not a magician, Mr. Bruce,” he said quietly. “I am very sorry indeed that this should have happened; but it is quite impossible, of course, to get your baggage here.”