"Who is he, the red ox?" demanded the Arab, gazing after the broad figure of Captain Stump.
"He is the captain of our ship, a man of no importance. The Hakim Effendi is in the approaching boat. With, him is Fenshawe Effendi, the old, gray-haired man. There is a tall young ship's officer there, too. His name is Royson—you will not forget?—Royson. He is dangerous. Regard him well. He might prove troublesome, or useful—I hardly know which at present. Fenshawe Effendi speaks French and Arabic, Royson Effendi French only. That is all, for the present. Leave me now."
"Adieu, madame. A cinq heures!"
Drawing back into the mob of natives, who were pressing nearer in their eagerness to offer themselves for hire to the Europeans in the boat, Abdullah shaded his swarthy face under, a fold of his burnous. Royson leaped ashore in order to assist Irene to land. She, with school-girl glee at emancipation from the narrow decks of the Aphrodite, sprang on to the low pier at the same instant, and laughed at his surprise at finding her standing by his side. They both extended a hand to Mr. Fenshawe, who refused their aid, saying that the first breath of dry air had made him feel as young as ever.
"There is no tonic like it," he said. "Look at Mrs. Haxton if you want a proof. She was a lily in London—now she is a rose."
Excitement, or the prospect of success, had certainly given the lady's complexion a fine tint. Her dainty profile offered a striking contrast to the motley crew of negroid Arabs who surrounded her. And she came to meet them in a buoyant spirit, though the fierce sun was scorching her delicate skin through the thin fabric of her dress.
"I ought to have made a wager with you, Mr. Royson," she cried, pronouncing his name very distinctly. "Our English-built craft cannot hold its own against the Somali, you see."
Knowing nothing of the difference of opinion on board the yacht, Dick could not fathom this sudden graciousness on her part. Before he could answer, von Kerber's highly-pitched voice broke in.
"Why did Captain Stump come ashore with you?" he asked.
"To send Mrs. Stump a cablegram, I believe," replied Mrs. Haxton carelessly.