Mr. Samuels, the head purser, had a memory that was said to be infallible. He said he never forgot a face. Of the million or two people he came in contact with during his runs, he boasted that he could always tell if he had ever seen one of them before.
I didn't believe it, of course; but, then, pursers have a way that many seamen can't understand, anyhow.
Being an express ship, and carrying the first-class mail, we also had an express safe. This was built into the body of the vessel, and was like the new bank safes, with solid steel doors and time locks.
Two watchmen took charge, alternating night and day, and the massive doors were not to be opened by any one alone. In that safe we often carried three or four million dollars in solid gold bars or gold coin.
Sometimes the banking houses of the United States shipped as much as two million at a time in coin. Precautions were of the modern banking sort, and the giant safe caused no comment.
The other safes of the purser and captain were just plain, every-day affairs, and seldom held more than a few thousand dollars. These were very different from the "through" safe.
I had been in the ship four months before I noticed a man who sat at my table. He had made a voyage with us the first run I made, and I remembered him as a clergyman who had relatives abroad in Europe, but who was himself an American.
He was a very dignified man, about fifty-five years of age, and he knew a great deal. I enjoyed talking to him, for he told me of many places and events that were most interesting. But he never at any time discussed religion, or even spoke of subjects relating to it.
Once on his second trip over, he came to my room, and presented me with a box of fine Havana cigars and, although it was against custom, I asked him in, and he came.