The meal was a sumptuous one as far as the guests were concerned. In honour of their fair passenger Swayne and his companions spared no effort to do the thing in style. Rose-tinted shades newly placed over the electric lamps threw a warm glow on the clean linen table-cloth. (The table-cloth was the only one on board, and usually the three men sat down to a coverless board, but that fact was sedulously kept dark.) The cutlery had been brightly polished; china took the place of the customary enamelled ware. Mahommed Bux, the Indian steward whom Swayne had engaged at Sydney, had risen splendidly to the occasion, and a dinner served in a style that would have done credit to many a noted French chef was duly appreciated.
They celebrated the occasion—the men being ex-officers of His Majesty's Service—by loyally drinking the King's health, then over the wine the story of the captured Donibristle, the secret base, and the adventures on Swan Island were related to the attentive and astonished hosts. Burgoyne kept back nothing in the recital.
"All I ask," he concluded, "is to keep the matter dark when we arrive at Sydney. The safety of our comrades in captivity depends largely upon a swift and successful coup, and I haven't the faintest doubt but that the Australian Navy will see to that, and do the job as effectually as the Sydney tackled the Emden at Cocos Keeling."
"You'll be there to see it done, you lucky dog," remarked Swayne.
"I don't know. I hope so," replied Burgoyne.
CHAPTER XXIX
The Admiral's Promise
"By the by," remarked Alwyn to the skipper of the Titania just before the former turned in, "do you happen to have a White Ensign on board?"
"By Jove, no," replied Swayne, somewhat astonished at the unusual request. "I'm not one to risk chucking away five hundred of the best for unlawfully flying colours to which I am not entitled, my pippin."