Two days later we arrived at Aden, and found the Intrepid anchored close to Steamer Point, looking cool and comfortable under her white awnings and white paint. The officer of the "guard", coming across for her mails, took the Baron and myself back with him.
As skipper of the Bunder Abbas I felt a somewhat important personage, but Commander Duckworth, the captain of the Intrepid, a short, red-faced, wiry man, full of energy, soon disabused me about that.
It was terrifically hot in his cabin, and he was not in any mood for talking.
"Eh, yes, Martin—you are Martin, are you?—so you've come to take poor Collingwood's job. I won't shake hands—too hot. Well, passages have been booked for you and your gunner in that steamer," pointing to a disreputable little steamer I could see through the gun port. "She leaves to-morrow morning at daylight. You will go aboard her to-night. We lent Wilson, one of our fellows, to the Bunder Abbas, until you came. You'll find him at Jask—only too anxious to see you, I expect. You'll take her over from him, and the boss at the telegraph station—a kind of political agent—will pass on any orders to you. You are, more or less, lent to the Indian Government, you know."
I did not know, but that was nothing.
His letters were brought in then, and he nodded for me to leave. However, I was so fearfully keen to learn more that I blurted out:
"Any chance of picking up a dhow or anything like that, sir?"
"Of course there is always a chance," he said energetically. "Wilson will tell you all about everything: good morning!"
I went away to the ward-room, hoping to get more information there; but the place was a litter of newspapers, and everybody was busy reading letters and paid little attention to me.
"Bunder Abbas. What size is she?"