Hans Schlak, the second mate, was a big blond German—a Viking in appearance, slow and stolid, but thoroughly efficient in every way.
The men, too, were smart and well-behaved, responding so well to Harcourt's discipline that Hammer was not surprised to find that most of them had served in the German navy.
Beyond discharging her pilot and sending some letters ashore for the doctor, the Daphne made no stop at Port Ibrahim, and by next morning she was well on her way out of the gulf and down the Red Sea.
They were holding in somewhat to the Arabian coast, and Hammer, in charge of the bridge, was seated in the chart-house going over a lesson in navigation, when a figure darkened the doorway and John Solomon entered.
"Beggin' your pardon, Mr. 'Ammer, sir, but would you 'ave the kindness to let me take a bit of a look through the glass?"
"Well, I don't know that it would do any great harm," replied Hammer cheerfully. "Help yourself, Solomon. Want to get a last look at Asia, eh?"
"Yes, sir," came the sober answer, as Solomon procured a pair of binoculars. "You see, sir, I was down this 'ere way a few months ago. Werry interesting place, Mr. 'Ammer, and when so be as you finds an interesting place, I says——"
The rest was lost as Solomon directed a fixed gaze from the port doorway toward the distant coast, and he did not change his attitude for five minutes. Hammer watched him with some interest, until at length the other lowered the glasses with a sigh.
"Lud, what a bare coast she is, sir! If I might make so bold, sir, what be we a going to do after we reach Mombasa?"
"Why," smiled Hammer, "we're bound for a little harbour up the coast called Melindi. We'll have to leave the yacht at Kilindini harbour, after the trip up, and go to and from Melindi by launch, I suppose."