"Good-bye," he said. "I hope you may prosper in your undertaking. Like you, I, too, am starting out into the world to gain experience. I have wished you good luck; won't you do the same for me?"
The boy shyly took the hand held out to him, and, as he did so, he said: "God speed ye, sir, and thank ye kindly for the way you've let me talk to you. It's done me a world o' good."
A second later he was gone, and the train was on its way once more. In something under twenty minutes they had reached Salisbury, where Max discovered, as he had quite made up his mind he would do, that the last train for Bristol had departed. In consequence, he would be compelled to wait in Salisbury until morning for another. The disappointment was a severe one, for he had hoped to reach his destination before the night was over. In his present state, rapid travelling was exactly what he wanted; to feel he was dashing through the country, drawing nearer his goal with every mile, was like an antidote to pain, it prevented him from thinking. Now there was nothing for it but to find an hotel and to wait for morning.
As he made his way out of the station and down into the town, he thought of the last time he had visited that ancient city. Then he had been the favoured guest of a well-known nobleman in the neighbourhood, and his arrival had been the signal for quite a respectable crowd to gather in the station yard to see the Crown Prince of Pannonia. Flags had decorated the streets, and the civic authorities had offered him a hearty welcome in their council-house. Now a thick drizzle was falling as he walked along the muddy street, and the only welcome he received was the curse of a tipsy man who reeled and almost fell against him. When he had discovered a convenient hostelry he engaged a room, and afterwards strolled about the town. At last he found himself standing before the ancient cathedral, in what is perhaps the most peaceful and beautiful close in all the length and breadth of England. The graceful spire towered hundreds of feet into the moonlit sky, and as he watched it the clock struck ten, slowly and solemnly, as if it were aware of the important part it was playing in the passage of time. At the same moment I was alighting from my train at Southampton Docks, whither I had gone in search of him. Small wonder was it, since he was in Salisbury, that I could not find him.
Next morning, shortly before five o'clock, he rose and continued his journey, catching a London train at Westbury, reaching Bath at eight o'clock, and Bristol thirty-five minutes later. Before leaving the station he secured the luggage he had sent on ahead, and then once more departed in quest of an hotel. This accomplished, he was at liberty to go in search of a vessel. From the collection of advertisements in the coffee-room, it would appear that there was no place on the face of the habitable globe that could not be reached from that port. He could find nothing, however, to suit him. The United States did not appeal sufficiently to his sense of the romantic; South Africa had another and still more vital objection; Canada was impossible, for the simple reason that he had already visited it, and was exceedingly well known there. He wanted to find a vessel on which there would be no possible chance of his being recognised, and for this reason also the big liners were unsuitable. Leaving the hotel, he went into the town, scanned the wharves, and entered into conversation with men who had their dealings in great waters. At last, and quite by chance, he happened upon the very vessel he wanted. She was the Diamintina, a steamer of some three thousand tons, engaged in the South American trade. Her steam was already up, and, as Max was informed, she was to sail that afternoon for Rio de Janeiro. He inquired the name of the agents, and as soon as he had discovered their address, set off in search of the office post-haste. The clerk who did him the honour to inquire his business informed him that he was quite right in supposing that she would sail that afternoon, and went even so far as to add that she had sufficient accommodation for half a dozen passengers, four of which were already booked. The chance seemed too good to be lost. Brazil was the country he had always had a desire to visit; now he paid the money demanded of him and received his ticket in exchange. An hour later he had made his way on board and the voyage to South America had commenced. Max stood at the port bulwarks as the vessel steamed slowly down the river, and watched the shore slip past with what was almost a feeling of wonderment at his position. At last he might consider himself freed from his past life. He had a hundred pounds in the belt that was safely clasped round his waist, ten pounds in his pocket, and when that was gone he would have nothing to depend upon, save his health and his determination to succeed. By nightfall they were out in more open water, and a brisk sea was running. Fortunately, Max was an excellent sailor, and enjoyed rather than disliked the active motion of the steamer. To his surprise, when the dinner-bell rang at six o'clock, he, the captain, and one solitary passenger were all who sat down to table. They were the only three to sit down at subsequent meals during the voyage. The captain was inclined to be agreeable, and Max's fellow saloon passenger was the Señor Francisco Moreas, and he was, by his own account, an old resident in Brazil. Be that as it may, and I am certainly not in a position to contradict it, he had seen more of the world than the average man. His age must have been between forty and forty-five; his appearance was that of a typical Spaniard, debilitated partly by fever and partly by his own excesses; he was tall but sparely built, boasted keen, hawk-like eyes, a nose that at first glance reminded one of the same bird's beak, a small and carefully-trimmed moustache, and last, but not least, exceedingly small hands and feet, of which he was inordinately proud. The fingers of the former, which were dirty, were invariably ornamented with rings.
The captain, who, as I have already said, had laid himself out to be agreeable to Max, found an occasion to invite him to the chart-room alone. Once there he spoke his mind freely and to the point.
"I want to give you a hint, Mr. Mortimer," he said, for that was the name Max had assumed. "I must put you on your guard against our friend Moreas."
"I am exceedingly obliged to you for the trouble you are taking," Max returned, as he seated himself on the chart locker. "What has he done that you should warn me against him?"
The captain sank his voice a little as he replied.
"I have known him for a good many years. He is a notorious gambler, and, as far as my observation goes, I can say that I have seen him win a good deal oftener than he loses. When I say that he is a dead shot with a revolver, and that he is not above calling a man out and putting a bullet into him before breakfast, you will understand that I've gone out of my way to tell you something that might land me in difficulties if he came to know of it."