On the way to Newcastle next morning, and as the train was leaving King's Cross, a man jumped hurriedly into their carriage, his bags were thrown after him, and the door slammed violently.
"I'm sort of intruding," he said, by way of introduction and apology. He was a young and very handsome man, typically American from the long hair brushed off his forehead to his long pointed boots, his Western accent very strong and nasal.
"Guess you two ain't lived all your lives on land. I've been six years in the United States navy, and can spot a navy man like a pointer."
"Yes, we are both in the navy," answered Helston, smiling.
"There you are; you Britishers always call your navy the navy. Why, our American ships—ship for ship—would give 'em all points and knock spots out of them. We ain't got so many just now, but we're just scurrying around, and we've got the iron and the brains, and Congress will find the dollars. I'm quit of the navy. The guv'nor curled up and left me a pile, so I just sent in my commission and been enjoying myself ever since—that's four years ago next fall. Going out to China in a few weeks—shake up the oil business. The old man was in oil—see! Ever been in China—Asiatic station we call it—and met the old Monocacy?"
"Twice," said Helston, much amused.
"Well, I was a cadet for two years in that old packet—Reginald S. Hopkins, my tally—and I guess we have mutual acquaintances out there."
"My name is Helston."
"Helston!" ejaculated the American. "Why, I know your face—couldn't guess where I'd seen it before seen your picture in every illustrated journal I've taken up for the last ten days—shake, sir, shake," and he grasped Helston's hand warmly. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance. I reckon you're just about the most talked-of man walking the face of this earth just now."
The conversation naturally turned on the approaching expedition, in which Hopkins was keenly interested. "I guess I can give you some middling-sized information about those ships the Chinese ran ashore. I was out with the Japs at Wei-hai-wei, just looking round—kind of correspondent for a Boston journal—and went on board some of them. I reckon the silly idiot who bought that lot of scrap iron wished he had left 'em there. There ain't a dockyard in the States that could make 'em keep pace with a funeral. Why, I went aboard one of the torpedo-boats—high and dry she was—I'm mighty inquisitive, I tell you—her boiler had burst and blown up her deck, when she went aground, I reckon. I've never seen such a mess as the engines were—two horrid staring corpses been there a week, too—ugh!"