"Shake him off!" said Mr. Boulong in a low tone.
The seamen continued to haul in the gangway, shaking it vigorously as they did so. Knott had an idea of his own; and when they had drawn the steps nearly up, he let them slide back with a jerk, Pacha and all, till the Moor was wrenched from his hold, and thrown back into the barge, all in a heap, in the stern-sheets.
"Very well done, Knott!" exclaimed the first officer.
The coxswain of the boat hastened to pick up his master, and place him on the cushioned seat. Of course he was as wrathy as a respectable Mohammedan could be, to say nothing of such a one as Noury was.
"What do you mean, you rascal?" demanded His Highness, glowering at the first officer as though he would subject him to the bowstring if he could get hold of him. "Do you intend to drown me?"
"I do not, sir; but if you attempt to come on board of this steamer, you, and not I, will be responsible for the consequences," replied Mr. Boulong.
"But I told you I wished to see the commander of the Guardian-Mother," stormed the Pacha.
"And I told you that he declined to receive you."
"May I ask why he declines to receive me?" demanded Noury.