“No. 29,” said the man, calling a servant. “Did you get your passports, young men?”
Sanford drew back, and made energetic signs to the porter to keep still; but the official failed to understand him.
“No; they haven’t got them yet,” replied Peaks. “The fact is, all the passports are on board the ship.”
“But the young gentlemen were very anxious to obtain new ones, so that they could go to St. Petersburg. They intended to leave by this morning’s steamer, but no tickets can be had without passports.”
Both Sanford and Stockwell shook their heads to the stupid porter, who was remarkably intelligent on all other points; but somehow he did not see them, or could not comprehend them.
“It’s too bad about those passports—isn’t it, my lads?” laughed Peaks, turning to the runaways. “Here’s more proof that you hadn’t the least idea of going to St. Petersburg.”
“I was very sorry for the young gentlemen, and did the best I could for them,” added the gentlemanly porter.
“No doubt you did; and I’m very much obliged to you for the trouble you took,” replied the good-natured boatswain.
“No. 29, sir?” interposed the servant, with the key in his hand.
“Ay, ay, my hearty. But, young gentlemen, I want to save you from any more terrible disappointments and awful vexations in finding the ship. I’m going up to my bunk, and if I don’t find you here when I come down, I shall call on the American consul, and ask him to put the police on your track. You shall find the ship this time, or perish in the attempt, sure.”