“Not half such a shock as it was to us,” said Wally. “We never asked him to fall on us—and he’s bonier than you’d think. Next time I would like to choose a fat, soft quartermaster; this one is simply one of the horrors of war, when he falls on you. He’s all bony outcrops. Look, Norah, there’s a porpoise!”
“One!—why, there’s a school!” Jim said.
The big creatures were gambolling about a ship’s length away, having mysteriously appeared from the west. More and more appeared, until the sea seemed full of them—great, dark forms, shooting into the air in a curve that was extraordinarily graceful, considering their bulk, and piercing the waves again with hardly a splash. They came nearer and nearer, evidently interested in the ship; looking down, Norah could see them under water, dim shadows shooting through the green depths. For a while they kept pace with the steamer; then they gradually drew off, as if in obedience to some invisible signal from their leader, and headed westward again, until at length the leaping, sleek forms were lost in the distance.
“They must be immensely strong beasts,” Wally said. “I remember once being in the bow of a big steamer going to Queensland, and three porpoises had quite a game with us—they kept springing into the air and shooting backwards and forwards in front of the bow—so close to it that it looked as if they’d be cut in two as they sprang. But they must know exactly how to judge distance; the bow seemed right on them every time, but it never touched them. They played with that old ship like three great puppies—and she was going along at a good rate, too. I must say I’d like to see a porpoise in a real hurry—he’d be something like a torpedo!”
“Nice people,” said Norah, watching the last dark speck in the west. “I hope they’ll come often. Are we likely to see any whales?”
“It’s not the season, but you never can tell. Durban is a great place for them, I believe,” Jim answered. “Mr. Smith saw a great many there last time he came out.”
“Mr. Smith seems to be developing an affection for you, Jimmy,” Wally said. “I saw him deep in soulful intercourse with you before breakfast.”
“I don’t know about either the soul or the affection,” said Jim—“but he’s a lonely sort of beggar. No one seems to want him. And he’s really rather interesting when he gets talking. I can’t quite make out who he is, or where he comes from; he’s been in Australia for a good bit, and he says he’s a Canadian, but he doesn’t look like one.”
“He’s such a bad-tempered animal,” Wally said. “He fell foul of the purser on his first day on board, and seems to have been fairly uncivil to the captain; and my steward says he’s a ‘holy terror’ in his cabin. One of those people who are never satisfied. And he can’t play games or do anything.”
“Oh, well, he doesn’t worry us much!” said Jim, easily. “He doesn’t often want to talk, and when he does, one can’t be rude to him. He’s very interested in the troopships—has a nephew in the New South Wales contingent. That’s what we were talking about this morning; he heard me say I knew a lot of fellows in the crowd, and he wanted to know if I knew where they were going. His nephew can’t stand heat, he says, and he doesn’t want him to be in Egypt. I guess he’ll get enough cold in Flanders before the show is over.”