“I wish Armstrong was here,” said Tom. “Won’t he open his eye when he sees ‘Crocodile’!”
“Crocodile” was the name of the horse before mentioned.
“It hardly seems like a party without him,” said Jill, blushing a little.
“You were telling us about the letter written at sea,” said the vicar. “Of course, you heard nothing of the ship in London?”
“Yes, I did,” said Roger. “After no end of disappointment, Armstrong suggested telegraphing to the post-master at Havana, off which the letter was written, you know, and we heard that there had been a ship called the ‘Cyclops’ ten years ago trading between the West Indies and Ceylon, but that nothing was known of any one of the name of Ingleton.”
Rosalind looked up suddenly.
“Ceylon and the West Indies?” exclaimed she. “Roger, did Mr Armstrong never tell you a story he once told me of a shark adventure which happened to him when he was a sailor on a ship trading between Ceylon and the West Indies?”
The sudden silence which followed this inquiry was only broken by a low whistle of wonder from Tom.
Roger, with a flush of colour on his pale cheeks, sat up and said, “What is the story?”
Rosalind told it as nearly as possible in the tutor’s own words.