“We are yachting, for the benefit of my little daughter’s health,” answered Sir Reginald, briefly, as the boat ranged up alongside the gangway-ladder, and the baronet waved his not altogether welcome guest to precede him to the deck, where the rest of the party awaited his arrival.
“Evenin’, ladies and gents,” remarked Barker, affably, as he passed in through the gangway, and gazed about him inquisitively. “Fine weather, ain’t it, after the shindy that ‘rude Boreas’ kicked up two days ago?”
“Allow me,” interposed Sir Reginald, who had closely followed the castaway in on deck. “My dear,”—to Lady Olivia—“this is Captain Silas Barker, the only survivor of the wreck of his schooner, Amy Pelham, which was cast away two days ago. My wife, Lady Elphinstone; Mlle. Sziszkinski, Colonel Sziszkinski, Colonel Lethbridge, Professor von Schalckenberg, and the gentleman who was in the boat with me is Captain Mildmay.”
“Je-ru-salem!” exclaimed Barker, as he insisted on shaking hands with each of the persons named; “seems to me that at last the great ambition of my life is bein’ gratified by my gettin’ on intimate terms with the nobs. Quite a distinguished comp’ny, I’m sure. And you, sir, I presume, are Lord Elphinstone?”
“Oh dear no,” answered the individual addressed, with a smile, despite himself; “I am merely Sir Reginald.”
“Sir Reginald!” commented Barker. “Well, I guess it amounts to pretty much the same thing. But, where’s your crew, Sir Reginald? I don’t see no hands about your decks.”
“We do not need any,” answered Sir Reginald. “We work the ship ourselves—so far as she needs working. And now, if you would like to go below, Mr Barker, and have a wash and brush-up, my servant shall show you to your cabin. And if you are hard up for linen and a change of clothes, we can perhaps fit you out, amongst us.”
“Well, that’s uncommon handsome of you, Sir Reginald, I’m sure,” answered Barker. “The fact is that I’ve got here,”—regarding his bundle somewhat doubtfully—“a shift of clothes that I got out of the cabin of the schooner this morning; but I guess they’re pretty damp, and—”
“Quite so; I understand,” returned Sir Reginald. “You shall have a suit of mine. You will probably be able to get into them without much difficulty.”
“I guess I shall be able to git into ’em, and turn round and come out again,” remarked Barker, eyeing his host’s splendid proportions with undisguised admiration. “All the same, sir, if you don’t mind, I’ll have ’em; for they’ll be dry, and I’m most awful subject to rheumatism.”