“I don’t understand you,” said the lad wiping his face, for the perspiration was standing in a fine dew all over his brow.
“Why, both Mr Thompson and the landlord here said that you were better, and you have just shown me that you are.”
“How, Mr Preston?” said the lad bashfully.
“By the way in which you just now spoke out, my boy,” said Mr Burne, joining in. “Why, you couldn’t have spoken like that before we started. You are not much better now; but when we settled to come on this trip you were as weak and bashful as a delicate girl. Preston, we shall make a man of him after all.”
They were walking towards the landing-place nearest to where the Greek’s boat lay, and further conversation was stayed by Yussuf coming to them.
“The boatman will not believe, excellencies,” he said, “that there is no more luggage. Have I got all?”
“Yes; all our luggage went on by the steamer to Ansina.”
Yussuf bowed and went back to the landing-place, where a small boat manned by the Greek and one of his men was in waiting, and in the travellers’ presence Yussuf explained about their belongings.
The Greek listened with rather a moody expression, but said no more; and in a very short time the little party were pulled to the side of a long light craft, about the burden of a large west country fishing lugger, but longer, more graceful in shape, and with the fore-part pretty well cumbered with baskets, which exhaled the familiar ether-like odour of oranges.
The accommodation was very spare, but, as the weather was deliciously fine, there was little hardship in roughing it in the open—provision being made for the invalid to stay in shelter as much as he liked.