“I really haven’t time,” apologized the mate. “I’ve an errand ashore, and we leave in fifteen minutes. You can run up with it yourself, though. Here, boatman, row me to the landing.”
I sprang up the ladder. Except for several East Indian workmen who jumped aside as I appeared, there was no one on the deck. From somewhere below came the sound of waltz music and the laughter of merry people. I strolled carelessly around to the other side of the deck, and walked aft in the shadow of the upper cabins. For some moments I stood alone in the darkness, gazing at the streaks of light from the lower port-holes sparkling in the canal. Then a step sounded behind me—a heavy British step that came toward me for several paces, and then halted. One could almost tell by his walk that he was an officer of the ship; one could certainly hear it in the gruff “Ahem!” with which he cleared his throat. I waited in fear and trembling.
A minute passed, then another. I turned my head, inch by inch, and peered over my shoulder. In the dim light stood a man in faultless evening dress, gazing at me through the darkness between us. His dress looked like that of a passenger, but the very set of his feet on the deck proved that he was no landsman. It was the captain himself, surely! What under officer would dare appear out of uniform on a voyage?
I turned away my head again, determined to bear the coming blow bravely. The dreaded being cleared his throat once more, stepped nearer, and stood for a moment without speaking. Then a hand touched me lightly on the sleeve.
“Beg pahdon, sir,” murmured a very polite voice; “beg pahdon, sir, but ’ave you ’ad dinner yet? The other gentlemen’s h’ all been served, sir.”
I swallowed my throat and turned around, laying a hand over the place where my necktie should have been.
“I am not a passenger, my man,” I replied scornfully; “I have a message for the chief steward.”
The servant stretched out his hand.
“Oh, I cawn’t send it, you know,” I objected. “I must deliver it myself, for it requires an answer before the ship leaves.”
“Goodness, you can’t see ’im,” gasped the Briton; “we’re givin’ a dance, and ’e’s in the ball-room.”