But at that moment a page came into the garden. He was calling for “Mr. Ready.”
“Means me, I guess,” laughed Jack, “although it sounds new to be called ‘Mr. Ready.’ What do you want?” he asked, stopping the boy.
“You are Mr. Ready? All right then, there’s a telephone message for you. You’re wanted back on the ship as soon as possible.”
“That’s a funny coincidence,” murmured Jack; “just as I was ready to go, too.”
As the page hurried off, Jack turned to Sam:
“I can’t think what they can want me for; still, orders are orders. You stay here and watch His Nibs yonder, then, Sam, till I get back. If he goes anywhere, follow him, but don’t take any chances. He’s got no great love for either of us, I fancy.”
“Well, I guess not, after the pummeling you gave him,” laughed Sam.
Jack hurried off. Orders were orders, and although he could not imagine what he could be wanted for on board the Tropic Queen, he knew that it was his duty to obey at once. But, to his astonishment, when he reached the ship he found that there had been no message for him so far as anybody knew. All the ship’s officers were ashore and the ship deserted, except for the crew unloading the bulky cargo, while black stevedores sung and swore and steam winches rattled and roared to the accompaniment of the harsh screaming of the bos’n’s pipe.
A good deal puzzled, Jack was retracing his steps to the hotel and the pleasant coolness of the garden, when he was suddenly accosted by a young man who stepped from around the corner of a building.
“Hello there, Jack Ready! Well, if I’m not glad to see you!”