VAN DER WYCK'S GIFT
"Got 'em, sir. There were two of 'em. All fast, sir!"
"Hoist away!"
Amid ringing and unrestrained cheers from the passengers of the Huldebras the boat and its occupants were whisked up to the davits. Willing hands helped the two rescued men to the deck, where they were at once taken in charge by the ship's doctor.
Once more the twin screws lashed the water, and, gathering way, the Huldebras resumed her interrupted voyage. The passengers went below, and in a very short space of time the forty-minutes wonder was to the majority of them merely an incident.
By noon on the day following, Colin and Van der Wyck were out and about. The former had quite a difficulty to avoid being lionised by the rest of the passengers, for, greatly to his annoyance, Tiny Desmond had related the circumstances under which Colin had leapt overboard.
The Afrikander got off lightly in that respect. He was merely an object of curiosity, and even the newly-repaired rail failed to scotch a rumour that he had deliberately thrown himself into the sea.
He said little about the mishap beyond thanking Colin for saving his life. He quite realised that if the lad had not brought the lifebuoy to within his grasp things would have gone badly with him. But what appeared to trouble him was the fact that he had lost his revolver, and also the mechanism of his artificial foot had been damaged by the salt water.
Although he continued to talk with Colin and Desmond, he never attempted to renew his interrupted account of the wonders of the Secret City of the Makoh'lenga. When Tiny broached the subject he adroitly switched the conversation off into another channel, and Desmond had the good sense to take the hint.
Beyond a mild excitement caused by the report that a first-class passenger had been robbed of a pocket-book containing £500 and a quantity of jewellery, nothing out of the ordinary occurred during the rest of the voyage to Cape Town.