“You haven’t been long in the water, then?”
“Oh, no. Only half an hour.”
“Why did the man try to kill you?”
“I’ll explain. My ship is a San Francisco trader. Her last stop was in the Euphrates. She was homeward bound to-night when a native boat came up behind her. I stood on deck, aft. The first thing I knew a fellow, looking like an Arab, came up a rope at the stern, from the Persian boat. He gave me a thump that knocked me senseless. When I revived I saw that the man was a white man in disguise. He had on my clothes.”
“Ha! Did he look like this?” interposed Frank, quickly, and he gave the sailor a description of Murdock.
“Yes, that’s a life-like picture of him!” said the man.
“Well, before I could say a word to him he flung me overboard. The native boat had vanished. By good luck I had my senses and swam. A piece of plank was drifting near me and I seized it. The steamer went on. I yelled for help, but no one seemed to hear me. I was left to my fate until you just found me.”
“So Martin Murdock is on that steamer, eh? Well, by all that’s wonderful this is a good piece of news! I never expected to find him so easily.”
“You seem to know the man.”
“Listen and I’ll tell you his history.”