Part 15 (1/2)
CHAPTER X
THE ADVENTURES OF FOUR s.h.i.+LLINGS
As he finished his story Captain Whitaker stood up and reached out a hand to open a gla.s.s-fronted cupboard in which he kept his books and papers. The Commandant, mistaking his movement, rose also.
”No, no, sir,” the Captain corrected him. ”Sit down and finish your breakfast. The fact is, when her maid, last night, handed me the letter telling me she had gone ash.o.r.e, I sat down and wrote an answer. Here it is, and I was going to ask you to deliver it for me.”
The Commandant took it, and placed it carefully in his breast pocket.
”I thank you,” he answered, ”but I have breakfasted. If you don't mind--it occurs to me that, if I delay, some of your pa.s.sengers will soon be about the decks, and will see the luggage going overside, and ask questions.”
”And that's well thought of,” interrupted Captain Whitaker, ”though I expect the luggage is all in your boat before this. How far lies your house from the quay, by the way?”
The Commandant answered that his house--the Barracks--stood at the very top of the hill.
”Why, then,” said the Captain, leading the way up the companionway, ”the least I can do is to send a couple of my men along with you to help. Your fellows--you'll excuse me--don't look equal to it.
Pensioners, eh?”
The Commandant winced. ”One of them,” he answered stiffly, ”is on the active list. His strength would surprise you, sir.”
”H'm!” said the Captain, with a glance at Sergeant Archelaus.
”The other--but where is Tregaskis?”
”Gone off, sir, to do business with the steward,” explained Archelaus, saluting.
”The other is a Mr. Tregaskis, a respectable man, and our princ.i.p.al tradesman in Garland Town. He has a design, I believe, to sell you whatever you may want in the way of fresh provisions.”
”Certainly. The steward can go ash.o.r.e, too, and do business with him, and his boat will bring the others back. Here--Hoskings! Arnott!”
Captain Whitaker called to a couple of seamen, and sent a third off to summon the steward.
Five minutes later the Commandant found himself back in his boat, seated besides the _Milo's_ steward, and confronting a tall pile of luggage. The two seamen had already put off with Mr. Tregaskis in the steward's boat.
”And you will present my duty to Madame?” said Madame's maid, looking down from the s.h.i.+p's side. ”And tell her that I charge myself to see the rest of her luggage safe to the hotel, where I will report myself and wait for Madame's orders.”
Captain Whitaker waved good-bye. Archelaus pushed off and fell to the oars. The Commandant took the tiller. As the boat pointed for sh.o.r.e the garrison bell on the hill rang out nine o'clock.
Nine o'clock! The notes of the bell struck apprehension upon the Commandant's heart. His guest would certainly be awake by this time, and as certainly hungry. To be sure, she could not attire herself until her boxes arrived--at any rate, would not appear. And yet, with such a strong-willed person, he could not be certain. A lady capable of landing on a foggy night in an evening gown and diamonds, and of walking up the street of St. Hugh's in shoes of rose-coloured satin, might well be capable of descending to breakfast in those garments.
To breakfast!--and as yet that breakfast had to be bought, and on credit!
He wished now that he had offered to convey Mr. Tregaskis back in his own boat. He might (he told himself) have broached his proposition on the way.
The _Milo's_ steward, affably inclined, let fall a remark or two upon the Islands. He opined that they were quaint. The poor man meant well, but was a person slightly above his station, and clipped his words.
This gave him a patronising tone, which the Commandant, in his impatience, found offensive. He answered in curt monosyllables, which in turn caused the steward to mistake him for a stand-offish gentleman.
The steward was a very resplendent figure indeed. The morning sunlight, which drew sparkles from the bra.s.s-b.u.t.toned suit and bra.s.s-bound cap beside him, exposed pitilessly the threadbare woof of the Commandant's uniform coat. There had been nothing amiss with the coat, yesterday; nothing to observe, at least--- And, ”Confound the fellow!” thought the Commandant, ”how am I to get rid of him and have a word with Tregaskis?”
For desperate ills, desperate remedies. Drawing alongside the quay, where Mr. Tregaskis and the two seamen had landed and stood waiting, the Commandant called upon his best service voice, concealing the shake in it: