In spite of the unpleasant surroundings, it was all that Kit could do to keep from laughing; for he knew what was the matter with that nose.
“No, sir,” he answered; “you had me by the throat, and we were both drowning, and I had to take you by the nose to make you let go.”
The purser laughed himself at this; and thinking that a good sign, Kit took hold of him again and half dragged him to his feet. Then he ran across the plank to get his coat, the only dry garment they had between them, and with a little more urging Mr. Clark consented to make an effort to reach the station.
It was almost totally dark now, and they had to feel their way along, moving very slowly.
“I don’t know what put it into my head to bring you with me to-day, Silburn,” the purser said when they were near enough to shore to feel safe. “But it was the best thing I ever did in my life. If it hadn’t been for you, the catfish would be making a supper of me by this time in this miserable lake.”
“Oh, you might have taken a different route entirely, if I had not been with you, sir,” Kit answered. “What we want now is a fire to dry our clothes by. If we have a little time at the station, we must find one somewhere, or build one.”
Finding at the station that they had more than an hour to wait for the return train, and indoor fires being almost unknown in that part of the world, they went out to the edge of the road and built a little camp fire with such stray sticks as they could find, and piece by piece dried their outer clothing, much to the amazement of a crowd of coolies that soon gathered and stood watching them. And the station agent, learning what had happened, brought them each a steaming cup of coffee.
By the time they reached the ship and put on dry clothes Mr. Clark was quite ready to crack jokes over his mishap, though he insisted that but for Kit he should have been drowned. And Captain Fraser refused to see any but the funny side of it, and declared that such a roll of fat as the purser could not possibly have been in danger of drowning.
“I think I shall have to stop going ashore at any of the ports, except on business,” Kit said, after the accident had been well discussed; “particularly toward night. In all my voyages I have not had a sign of an adventure on the water; but as soon as I go ashore, something is sure to happen. The first night in Marseilles we were imprisoned in Louis-Philippe’s cell in Monte Cristo’s castle; the second night we were up in Notre-Dame-de-la-Garde when the elevators broke, and had a cardinal to entertain us; now here I go ashore for a little ride in the country, and tumble into the pitch lake.”
“Don’t you worry about adventures on the water, young man,” Captain Fraser said, almost precisely as Captain Griffith had once answered him. “All you have to do is to stick to the sea long enough, and your adventures are sure to come. I shouldn’t be in any hurry for them, either, if I were you. Sometimes a man comes out on the top side of an adventure; but more times he’s on the under side, and don’t come out at all.”