The Lintons laughed unrestrainedly.
“That's your look of benevolent old age, Norah,” said her father. “I've often noticed it coming on.”
“I wish you'd mention it to Wally,” Norah said. “He might treat me with more respect if you did.”
“I doubt it; it isn't in Wally,” said her father. “Now, Rainham, shall we see about this luggage?”
They handed it over to the care of deck hands, and watched it loaded, with many other trunks, into a huge net, which the crane seized, swung to an enormous height and then lowered gently upon the deck of the Nauru. Just as the operation was finished two figures threaded their way through the crowd towards them; immensely tall young officers, with the badge of a British regiment on their caps.
“Hullo, dad,” said the taller—a good-looking grave-faced fellow, with a strong resemblance to Norah. “We hardly expected you down so early.”
“Well, Norah and I had nothing to do, so we thought we might as well come; though it appears that we would have been wiser not to hurry,” said Mr. Linton. “Jim, I want to introduce you to two courageous emigrants—Miss Rainham, Captain Rainham—my son.”
Jim Linton shook hands, and introduced his companion, Captain Meadows, who was dark and well built, with an exceedingly merry eye.
“We've been trying to get round the powers that be, to make our way on board,” he said. “The chief difficulty is that the powers that be aren't there; everything is hung up waiting for this blessed official. I suppose the honest man is sleeping off the effects of a heavy lunch.”
“If he knew what hearty remarks are being made about him by over two hundred angry people, it might disturb his rest,” said Wally Meadows. “Come along and see them—you're only on the fringe of the crowd here.”