The sound of our voices had attracted the quartermaster on duty. Behind him appeared a young steward.
“You’d best get ashore quick,” said the sailor; “we’re only waitin’ for the fourth mate. Best call a boatman or you’ll get carried off.”
“Really!” I cried, looking anxiously about me. “But I must have an answer, you know!”
“I couldn’t disturb ’im,” wheezed the older steward.
“Well, show me where he is,” I argued.
“Now, we’re off in a couple o’ winks,” warned the quartermaster.
“’Ere, mate,” said the youth; “I’ll take you down.”
I followed him to the deck below, and along a lighted passageway. My make-up would never stand the bright glare of a ball-room. I thrust the note into the hands of my guide.
“Be sure to bring me the answer,” I cautioned.
He pushed his way through a group of his mess-mates and disappeared into the drawing-room. A moment later he returned with the answer I had expected.