“Eh? say that again,” said Lancey, with a perplexed look.
“Hoosyoo?” repeated the Moslem, with emphasis.
“Hoosyoo,” repeated Lancey slowly. “Oh, I see,” (with a smile of sudden intelligence,) “who’s you? Just so. I’m Jacob Lancey, groom in the family of Mrs Jeff Childers, of Fagend, in the county of Devonshire, England.”
This having been outrageously misunderstood by the Turk, and misinterpreted to the officer, the next question was—
“Wessyoocumfro?”
“Wessyoocumfro?”
Again Lancey repeated the word, and once more, with a smile of sudden intelligence, exclaimed, “Ah, I see: w’ere’s you come from? Well, I last come from the water, ’avin’ previously got into it through the hupsettin’ of our boat.”
Lancey hereupon detailed the incident which had left him and me struggling in the water, but the little that was understood by the Turks was evidently not believed; and no wonder, for by that time the Russians had been laying down torpedoes in all directions about the Danube, to prevent the enemy from interfering with their labours at the pontoon bridges. The Turkish sailors were thus rendered suspicious of every unusual circumstance that came under their notice. When, therefore, a big, powerful, and rather odd-looking man was found clinging to one of their cables, they at once set him down as an unsuccessful torpedoist, and a careful search was instantly made round the vessel as a precaution.
Meanwhile Lancey was led rather roughly down to the cabin to be questioned by the captain.
The cabin, although very luxurious in its fittings, was not so richly ornate as had been anticipated by the English groom, whose conceptions of everything had been derived from the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, or rather from a fanciful imagination fed by that romantic work. The appearance of the Turkish captain, however, and the brightly-coloured costume of an officer who sat by his side, were sufficiently striking and Oriental.