“It’s very likely the captain of the Rajah may be able to give me some hints. He has probably knocked around the world a bit, and doubtless has kept his eyes open. I wish I had thought of asking him before he left whether or not he knows this coast. Besides, I would like to learn for certain if I have damaged his ship. It’s a good thing she wasn’t facing the other way, otherwise a log might have wrecked rudder or screw, or both.”
“I am afraid,” stammered Frowningshield, “that you won’t see the captain again. He was very anxious to be off, and I rather fancy by this time he’s well out at sea.”
“Ah, in that case,” remarked Stranleigh indifferently, “I shall be consoled by the assurance that his steamer is uninjured.”
In due time the motor boat returned, and its occupants entered the yacht without being seen by their master’s guest. The motor boat was hoisted on board, and the captain, coming aft, said:
“Any further orders, sir?”
“Yes. Plymouth, if you please. And, captain, just stop on your way at the camp, which I am informed is on the left-hand bank of the river. Draw up at the landing if there is one; if not, perhaps Mr. Frowningshield’s launch will be waiting for him. There are some packages to go ashore.”
The steamer proceeded down the river with just enough speed on to give her steering way. Frowningshield sat very silent, but his host made up with loquacity for the other’s taciturnity. He told entertaining stories, and related odd experiences, and all with a delicate courtesy, as if his guest was the most honored of men, instead of being merely an adventurer and a marauder on a gold quest.
The captain drew up expertly at the landing. Nothing was to be seen of the Rajah that so lately had been berthed there. In spite of the fact that they saw their boss stepping ashore, large groups of men had ceased work, and were standing twenty or thirty yards back from the landing, viewing with eyes of wonderment the trim white steamer that had come out of the wilderness. Frowning-shield stepped ashore like a man in a dream, and a couple of stewards placed the cases of champagne and the boxes of cigars on the rock beside him. Lord Stranleigh leaned against the rail, and bade farewell to the manager.
“Wouldn’t you like to come on to Plymouth with us?” he said. “Penny all the way. County Council express boat. No stop between Chelsea and London Bridge.”
“God knows I wish I could,” said Frowning-shield, with a deep sigh.