“How do you mean?”
“Why, instead of making for Rabat, as we intended, why not find some quieter harbour where we shall not be such public characters, and get the youngster to act as guide into the hills? No doubt he bears a grudge against the sheikh who disposed of his father. If he has anything of the usual oriental thirst for revenge he will be very willing to help us.”
“Well, sound him; go at it cautiously, you know; tact—that’s the thing.”
Meanwhile Salathiel ben Ezra had been clothed by Captain Bodgers in blue serge trousers, a nankeen waistcoat, and an oilskin, the only other garment available. The Jew cut a strange figure in this unfamiliar attire. He was short, fat, thick-necked; the lower part of his face was hidden by dense black moustache and beard; his eyes were unequal in size and different in colour, and had a trick of roaming all around as he talked.
“This is very elegant yacht,” he said to Captain Bodgers as the garments were laid before him. The captain, always a silent man, made no reply. “That is most marvellous creature, the thing that flies in the air,” the Jew continued; “I have never seen anything like it. It is without doubt a new sport—the English love sport. They spend much money in sport. And where is the yacht bound for, good captain?”
“Goin’ a cruise,” said the captain shortly.
“Without doubt. And perhaps the kind governor will permit to call at a port—at Rabat, say; for I am not a man of the sea, and I have business there.”
“Better ask him.”
“I will do so. I will say also how I fill myself with wonder of the thing that flies. I myself am a sport!”
Salathiel not merely expressed his wonderment to Mr. Greatorex, but displayed a very active curiosity as to the construction of the machine and the choice of those waters for the practice of the new sport. Mr. Greatorex gave him no satisfaction, and was indeed somewhat curt in his replies to the man’s leading questions; but Salathiel smiled at each rebuff, thereby confirming Mr. Greatorex’s conviction that he was a rascal.