We walked along the deck, and, to my embarrassment, a few moments later I found myself shaking the limp paw of Septimus D'Arcy, glove and all.
I am not quite sure that Septimus, on my introduction, did anything more than open his mouth, while I raised and lowered his right forearm. Septimus would have spoken, I am quite sure, as the movement of his mouth indicated that such was his intention; although the expression, or rather lack of expression, on his face, bore no proof that his remarks, if uttered, would be very interesting. In fact, Septimus needed encouragement.
"We are having a very pleasant crossing," I ventured.
"Ye-s," he drawled, "but a demned overcrowded one—what?"
"I suppose so, but troop-ships are always overcrowded."
"I say, though, where does one sleep?"
I rather suspected that what Septimus really wanted to know was whether there was such a thing to be had as a private cabin, where he could disrobe his tubby figure in seclusion.
"There seems to be two places to sleep," I replied; "either in the boiler-room or on deck."
"On deck! Rather uncomfortable—what?"
"Well not nearly so uncomfortable as it may be later. I am just going down to get my kit and lay it out on deck," I said. "Hadn't you better get yours, too?"