Mostyn got to work promptly, and with his accustomed enthusiasm. He had the good luck to find the Portuguese agent on the spot. The preposterous storage charges were discussed, haggled over, and settled; gangs of native workmen were hired, and the task of loading up the Quilboma with her bulky but precious cargo began.
It was now that Peter met with a sudden and unexpected check, for, on inspecting the metalwork, he found that even in a comparatively short time the moist, tropical atmosphere had attacked the steel in spite of the coating of oxide it had received before leaving England.
To deliver it in this state meant a possible, nay, probable rejection by the consignees; but fortunately the skipper of the Quilboma rose to the occasion.
"I've a couple o' kegs of oxide aboard," he announced. "Put the niggers on to it, and let 'em give the stuff another coat."
"Over the rust?" queried the conscientious Peter,
The Old Man winked solemnly.
"Who's to know?" he asked. "Paint's like charity: covers a multitude of defects."
"That won't do for me," declared Peter. "I'll have every bit of the scale chipped off before the least flick of paint is put on."
The skipper shrugged his shoulders but refrained from audible comment. Although in his mind he considered his charterer to be a silly young owl, especially as he was bound to a time limit, he had to confess that Mostyn was doing the right thing.
It took the native workmen two days of unremitting toil (Peter and the Portuguese agent took care that it was unremitting) to clean the steelwork and recoat it with oxide. Then the loading commenced.