“Make your own pace,” answered Sir Reginald, with a laugh; “I dare say we can manage to keep up with you.”
Whereupon there ensued a muffled jingling of bells from somewhere down in the liner’s interior, and her propeller began to revolve, churning up the water into a frothy swirl about her rudder as she gathered way and began to forge ahead. At the same moment the professor sent his own engines ahead; and in a few minutes the two ships, as dissimilar in outward appearance as they were in every other respect, were sweeping along amicably on parallel courses, with about a quarter of a mile of clear water between them.
When the question of how many of the party should accept the invitation to tiffin on board the liner came to be discussed, it appeared that Colonel Sziszkinski and his daughter preferred to remain on board the Flying Fish. The recent escape of the colonel from the convict-ship rendered him desirous that his identity and whereabouts should remain a profound secret, at least for the present. The professor also expressed a preference for the quietude of his usual surroundings over the bustle and fussiness that he anticipated would ensue upon so unusual an occurrence as the visit of strangers to a mail-boat. The visiting party therefore consisted of Lady Olivia, Ida, Sir Reginald, Mildmay, and Lethbridge, most of whom availed themselves of the opportunity to scribble a hasty letter or two to friends at home.
It was about a quarter of an hour after “two bells” had pealed out on board the Baroda that the visiting party stepped out on deck from the pilot-house of the Flying Fish, equipped for their excursion; and it was evident that the officer of the watch on the liner’s bridge had received instructions to keep a sharp look-out for them, for immediately upon their appearance the steamer sheered in toward her consort until she had approached within easy hailing distance. When the hail came—
“Flying Fish ahoy! Are you ready to come aboard us?”
“Quite ready,” answered Mildmay, with a wave of his hand.
“Right!” responded the figure on the bridge, as he rang down to the engine-room the order to stop the engines. “Will you come in your own boat, or shall we send one for you?”
“Thanks very much,” answered Mildmay. “We will use our own boat.”
Whereupon, the engines of the Flying Fish also having been stopped, Mildmay climbed into the starboard quarter boat, which Sir Reginald then lowered. Then, the tackles having been released, she was hauled up to the gangway-ladder and the remainder of the party descended into her. Two minutes later she was alongside the Baroda, and a seaman was at the bottom of the accommodation ladder to assist the ladies out of the boat.
The captain of the mail-boat was waiting at the head of the ladder to receive his guests, and behind him a crowd of passengers, all eager to get a nearer glimpse of the visitors, whose appearance upon the scene had been so romantically opportune.