“Keep back! No demonstrations! Hands off!” cried the other, apprehensively drawing back his bandaged members. “My flippers are still a little tender.”
And no wonder; for the poor brave hands were so terribly burned that they would be scarred and disfigured for life.
“I tell you, it made me feel more than ever proud of being an Englishman,” said Lord Seabright, in talking of the affair to Breeze, “to see the pluck with which that fellow concealed his sufferings, and made light of them.”
This incident taught Breeze that appearances are often very deceitful, and first impressions are apt to be unjust ones; also, that some of the noblest natures are only developed by extraordinary circumstances.
After steaming out of the harbor, and rounding Cape Reykjaines, the Saga skirted the wild southern coast of Iceland, with Mount Hecla in sight, for nearly a day. Then, turning due south, she was headed for the Färöe Islands. This rocky group of thirty-five small islands, of which about twenty are inhabited, belongs to Denmark, and lies half-way between Iceland and Scotland. It was intended that the Saga should stop here for a day or two, and remain in the picturesque harbor of Thorshavn, on Strömöe Island, the largest of the group, while her passengers explored the surrounding waters and country. Now, on account of the serious nature of Mr. Whyte Whymper’s injuries, which demanded skilful medical attention, this plan was abandoned, and the yacht was urged with all possible speed towards England.
After the Färöes, the Shetland Islands were passed, then the Orkneys, and a day later the Saga sailed through the channel known as the Minch, between the Hebrides and the main-land of Scotland. Then down, past the western islands, through the north channel between Scotland and Ireland, across the Irish Sea, close to the Isle of Man, and finally, five days after leaving Reykjavik, she steamed into the mouth of the Mersey, and came to an anchor off the Liverpool docks.
Here it was decided that the injured man must be at once removed to London, and although he still made light of his wounds, Lord Seabright insisted upon accompanying him and seeing that he was properly cared for. He ordered Mr. Marlin to take the yacht to Queenstown, where he would try and rejoin him within a day or two.
To Breeze he said, “Of course you will go to Queenstown with the yacht, McCloud, and if you fail to find your friends, you are to make yourself as comfortable as you can aboard until I come. Then we shall run around to Cowes, from which place it will be easy to send your ambergris up to London and dispose of it.”
Breeze was very grateful for the great kindness shown him by this young Englishman, and tried to tell him so, but was checked by “Oh, nonsense, man! Don’t give it a thought. It’s no more than you would do if you were in my place, and I in yours, and no more than any true sailor would do for another whom he found in trouble. I should apologize to you for running off and leaving you in this way, but that you understand the necessity of the case as well as I.”
By this kindness and politeness to one who was apparently so greatly his inferior in social station, as well as almost a stranger to him, Lord Seabright proved himself a thorough gentleman by breeding as well as by birth; for a true gentleman will treat with equal courtesy all persons worthy of respect with whom he is thrown in contact.