“Yes. We’ll serve out arms, sir; it’s as well to be on the safe side.”
“Tom, cover up the airship. I don’t suppose they’ll know what it is, but, as Bodgers says, it’s as well to be on the safe side.”
As the vessel drew near, it was seen that she carried some thirty fierce-looking fellows, tall and finely made. One of them hailed the yacht. Mr. Greatorex called Abdul to his side and bade him interpret.
“Say they want to come on ship, sir—see the captain—do trade for guns and powder.”
“What do you say, Bodgers? Shall we let a few of them come aboard?”
“I would, sir. A few won’t do no harm, and if we can make friends of them, so much the better.”
Accordingly, half a dozen Moors were allowed to mount to the yacht’s deck. They appeared to be much disappointed when Mr. Greatorex politely explained through Abdul that he had no commercial object; his ostensible purpose, to see the country, scarcely satisfied them. But they recovered their spirits when he offered to show them over the vessel; and afterwards when, at the suggestion of Captain Bodgers, who knew something of the Moorish habits, they were each given a cup of weak tea and unlimited sugar, they smacked their lips and declared themselves well pleased with their reception.
While they were still sipping their tea, squatting on the deck, Salathiel ben Ezra, who had hitherto kept in the background, came to Mr. Greatorex and begged the favour of a few minutes’ conversation.
“I ask you, excellency, to be so kind, as let me go with the men, when they leave this ship. I have business on land; and thank you for your kindness, and take leave respectfully.”
“Hm! Moors friends of yours, eh?”