For the next two days Sir Hugh lay low; but he was far from inactive. As for the agent, he was simply bombarded with applications to inspect the dilapidated Titania, for during those two days fifteen individuals called in person, and in every case they either declared bluntly that they wouldn't touch the yacht at any price or else offered various sums none of which exceeded thirteen hundred and fifty pounds. Nor did they think fit to enlighten the now thoroughly harassed Mr. Strangeways with the information that they were members of a syndicate of which Sir Hugh Harborough was the head.
And since the reserve price of the Titania was £1450, and Mr. Strangeways had a reason for disposing of her promptly in order to close an account with her present owner, Sir Hugh evinced no untoward surprise when he received a prepaid wire:
"Does offer £1500 for Titania still hold good? If so, will accept."
Within three hours of the receipt of the telegram the "Fusi Yama Syndicate" was in possession of sixty-four sixty-fourths shares of the yacht Titania.
CHAPTER VII
Sand-bagged
During the next three weeks there was plenty of work for all hands. It was hard work, too; but everyone stuck to it grimly and determinedly in spite of aching muscles, blistered hands, and a variety of small ailments consequent upon unaccustomed handling of white-lead, paint, tar, pitch, and sooji-mooji.
The latter was unanimously voted a tough proposition. Composed principally of caustic soda, it is the shell-back's sheet anchor where old paint has to be removed. The amateur crew of the Titania found that it removed other things as well—for it burnt into their fingers, had a decided tendency towards destroying their clothes, and not infrequently spoiled their foot-gear.
There were other minor casualties. Griffiths, an ex-R.E. officer, and one of the two representatives of the British Army amongst the Titania's ship's company, found by practical experience that a marline-spike has a sharp point, and that even when dropped from a height of a couple of feet can rightly claim to be best man in an encounter with a human toe. Merridew, too, discovered, to his extreme physical inconvenience, that there are two ways of using an adze—the right and the wrong. Subsequent reflection on the part of the victim resulted in a decision that there was even a better way of dealing with adzes—to leave them severely alone.