An effort had been made to float Arcturus, but the salvors did not know all Cartwright thought he knew. If his supposition were correct, the wreck might be worth buying and one could, no doubt, buy her very cheap. The boat had for some time lain half-buried in shifting sands at the mouth of an African river.
The underwriters would be lucky if they sold her for old iron.
Cartwright weighed the cost of floating. If he employed a regular salvage company, this would be high, because they would bargain for a large part of the value recovered; his plan was to do the job himself, with cheaper appliances than theirs. The trouble was, he could not go out and superintend. He was too old, and one ought to be an engineer; Cartwright had grounds for imagining the job was rather an engineer's than a sailor's. Well, he knew a young fellow who would not be daunted and would work for him honestly, but to get the proper man was not all.
He pondered about the money. Somehow he might get the necessary sum, but if the venture failed, it would be the last. Nobody would trust him again; he would be forced into retirement and dependence on his wife. It was a risk he hesitated to run and he resolved to wait.
In the evening after dinner Barbara joined him in the drawing-room, and Cartwright waited with some amusement, for he thought he knew what she wanted.
"Did Mr. Lister come to the office?" she asked presently.
"He did come. Did you think he would not?"
"Oh, no!" said Barbara, smiling, "I knew he would come. Mr. Lister is like that!"
"I suppose you mean he's honest?"
"I think I mean he's scrupulous. When you crossed the station platform in front of us he got a jolt."