He pushed his way gently through the passengers, the cloak flying partially open as he did so and displaying Her Majesty’s uniform. He treated all these people with that patient tolerance which belongs to the mariner when dealing with landsmen. They were so many sheep penned up in a conveyance. Well-dressed sheep, he admitted tacitly by the withdrawal of his dripping cloak from their contact, but he treated them in the bulk, failing to notice one more than another. He utterly failed to observe Agatha Ingham-Baker, dainty and fresh in blue serge and a pert sailor hat. She knew him at once, and his want of observation was set down in her mind against him. She did not want him to recognise her. Not at all. She merely wanted him to look at her, and then to look again--to throw a passing crumb of admiration to her greedy vanity, which lived on such daily food.
Fitz, intent on his errand, pushed his way towards the steps leading up through the awning to the bridge. He seemed to know by some sailor instinct where to find it. He paused at the foot of the iron steps to give an order to the man who followed at his heel, and the attitude was Luke’s. The onlookers saw at a glance who this must be. The resemblance was startling. There was merely Luke FitzHenry over again, somewhat fairer, a little taller, but the same man.
The captain gave a sudden bluff laugh when Fitz emerged on the little spidery bridge far above the deck.
“No doubt who you are, sir,” he said, holding out his hand.
Then he stepped aside, and the two brothers met. They said nothing, merely shaking hands, and Luke’s eyes involuntarily went to the smart, simple uniform half hidden by the cloak. Fitz saw the glance and drew his cloak hastily round him. It was unfortunate.
And this was their meeting after three years.
“By George!” exclaimed Fitz, after a momentary pause, “she is a fine ship!”
Luke rested his hands on the white painted rail--almost a caress to the great steamer--and followed the direction of his brother’s glance,
“Yes,” he admitted slowly, “yes, she is a good boat.”
And then his deep eyes wandered involuntarily towards the tiny Kittiwake - smart, man-of-war-like at her anchorage--and a sudden sharp sigh broke from his lips. He had not got over it yet. He never would.