Speers looked at the bag, and then into the face of the porter, though Clinch turned away, and tried to avoid his gaze.
“Really, Mr. Clinch, I don’t think you look so well in that dress as you do in your regular uniform,” said Speers, with a pleasant smile.
At the same time he placed himself between the intended fugitive and the gangway. He looked as mild as one of the chaplain’s lambs; and the Britons evidently did not regard his opposition as very serious.
“I will thank you to step out of the way, Mr. Speers, and allow his lordship and myself to get into the boat,” said Sir Philip, rather brusquely.
“Certainly, Sir Philip; I have not the slightest objection to your getting into the boat,” replied Tom, stepping aside so that the baronet could pass, but still remaining between Clinch and the steps.
“And that porter must carry my bag into the boat, and take it up to the hotel when he gets ashore,” continued Sir Philip haughtily.
“I beg your pardon, Sir Philip; but the captain’s order is, that no one belonging to the steamer shall be allowed to go on shore,” interposed the officer of the deck.
“Into the boat with you, porter!” cried the baronet, who was disposed to carry his point, though he was entirely willing to part company with Clinch, whom he regarded as an undesirable companion for the proposed lark.
Clinch saw that his last chance was to make a rush into the boat, in which Lord Fillgrove had already seated himself. He made a desperate push to get by Tom Speers; but the officer promptly grabbed him by the collar, and crowded him back from the rail.
“Let go of him, or I’ll break your bloody head!” exclaimed Sir Philip.