“Yes. You know him?”
The reply astonished Jack. De Garros’ tone was more than vehement as he rejoined:
“Know him! I know him too well! I—but never mind about that now.”
Jack had no time to ask questions; indeed, he would have considered it impertinent to have done so. They now reached the captain’s cabin and that dignitary himself came forward to greet De Garros. The aviator explained that he wished to be transported to Kingston, Jamaica, which was the first port of call of the Tropic Queen, and that there he would cable for money for his passage and so forth.
Captain McDonald greeted him warmly, and clothes from the wardrobe of the third officer, who was about his size, were found for De Garros, who was beginning to shiver, warm though the air was. Jack had to hurry off to relieve Sam at the key. As he left, he and De Garros shook hands warmly.
“I shall see more of you,” said the young Frenchman.
“I hope so,” responded Jack. “I should like to hear more about your air voyage, when you have time.”
“I can always make time for the man who saved my life,” was the rejoinder of the aërial castaway.
“Oh, shucks!” exclaimed Jack, not being able to think of anything else to say.
Then he hurried back on the job. Half an hour later, in dry clothes, he was at his key again and exchanging joshes with the operator of the Mexico, as both the stately crafts stood on their courses once more after participating in what was, probably, the first rescue of an aërial castaway on record.