Time was pressing. In desperation Octavius Smith penned a lengthy epistle explaining that he was in utter ignorance of the fate of the documents, and that the harbourmaster of Delfzyl had flatly refused to give up possession of the Diomeda until such documentary evidence were forthcoming.
Two more days passed. Then, with a promptitude surprising for a British Government Department, the duplicates arrived.
"Ah! That is all in order," exclaimed Mynheer van Wyk. "All that is now required is to pay the salvage. Then you take possession."
"I see," agreed Octavius Smith, though not with any degree of enthusiasm. He had no doubt that the executors of the supposed deceased Jack Hamerton would ultimately pay all expenses in connection with the redemption of the Diomeda, but for the present he would have to be out of pocket. "What is the value of your yacht?" asked the harbourmaster, who also held the office corresponding to that of British Receiver of Wrecks.
"Two hundred pounds," replied the owner.
Van Wyk slowly turned over the documents before him.
"That may be so," he remarked; "but I see no copy of the bill of sale. How am I to know that this is the value of the yacht?"
"My word for it," replied Smith heatedly.
"Is not good enough," added the harbourmaster.
"Then why in the name of thunder didn't you ask me to get it with the other papers?"