Part 19 (1/2)
”The pay is poor, you say,” said the Greek; ”but it would be better if you didn't go this voyage, and had the pay all the same.”
”My lord is laughing at his servant,” said the captain, staring again with eyes more wide open than ever.
”Not at all; the fact is that I have no more wish to see these places than you have.”
The captain went on staring. ”Then why--?” he began.
”My friends settled the matter for me; but I would sooner stay where I am.”
”I understand,” said the captain, closing one eye entirely, and diminis.h.i.+ng the other to its natural size. ”I understand. You have a friend, a young friend, I daresay, and you don't think that this is a good time for a long voyage.”
Cleanor saw that the captain had his own ideas of what was keeping him in Alexandria, and did not care to disabuse him. After all, he reflected, he was not quite wrong. He nodded.
”You are right, my lord. These cities and temples and tombs up the river are very fine, but they will be just as fine ten, twenty, thirty years hence. You can't say that of youth. It pa.s.ses, my lord, it pa.s.ses, and you must enjoy it while you can. But what am I to say? I have been paid to take you up to Philae, and, if you wish it, as far as the Second Cataract. I signed the agreement before a notary. He knows all about it; other people know it. What am I to say when they find me loitering about here and your lords.h.i.+p not to be seen? You will hardly believe it, but there are positively people so wicked that they will say I murdered you to get the money without making the journey.”
Cleanor did believe that there were such people, and thought to himself that the captain did not look altogether like a man to whom such things were impossible.
”Oh!” said he, ”I will set that all right. I will sign a paper before the chief of the village, or anyone else that will serve, to say that I was compelled by urgent private business, which kept me in Alexandria, to give up my proposed voyage. You will be able to show that to any one who may be curious enough to inquire.”
And this was actually done. The village headman was called on for his services, and witnessed a declaration on the part of Cleanor that he released the captain of the _Sphinx_ from his contract to carry him to Philae and the Second Cataract, and that he claimed no compensation or return of the money or of any part of it for the non-fulfilment of the conditions. This done, he made the captain and crew a present of a gold piece, and saw with satisfaction that they departed to expend it at the Ca.n.a.l Tavern. Shortly afterwards Cleanor hired a small rowing-boat, and before long found himself again in Alexandria.
As to his general plan of operations he was quite clear. There was only one plan of getting into Carthage. It was full of risk, but still it was practicable. A brisk trade was being carried on from Alexandria in blockade-running. Corn had long been at famine prices in the besieged city. What was worth an ounce of silver on an Alexandrian quay could be sold for at least half an ounce of gold in the markets of Carthage. If only one s.h.i.+p-load out of three succeeded in escaping the Roman galleys a magnificent profit was realized. The average of those s.h.i.+ps that ran the blockade was not smaller; it was probably higher. The new harbour-mouth gave, as has been explained, a better chance.
Cleanor, then, was resolved to make his venture in a blockade-running corn-s.h.i.+p. The question was, what disguise should he use? Fortune had done something for him. The wound in his thigh had given him a limp.
During his illness a slight beard and a fairly thick moustache had grown. These things meant a considerable change. More was effected by a brown dye which gave him the complexion of an Arab. The character that he thought it best to a.s.sume was that of pedlar. He provided himself with suitable clothing and a pack, which last, however, he left for the present unfilled.
As Egypt was in alliance with Rome the traders that followed the business of blockade-running had to affect a certain disguise. The cargoes were consigned to dealers in Italian ports, and the s.h.i.+ps themselves actually shaped their course for Italy, and kept on it as long as possible, so as to minimize to the utmost the chances of capture. The event of a pa.s.senger offering himself was rare, for the destination of this cla.s.s of corn-s.h.i.+ps was an open secret. If, however, one chanced to come, the captain could hardly refuse a pa.s.sage. If he was exceptionally honest he might put difficulties in the way; commonly he left the stranger to find out his mistake, taking the precaution of having the pa.s.sage-money paid in advance.
Cleanor, who had put up for the night at a little tavern close to the water-side, picked up a little information from the talk which was going on round him. Improving his acquaintance with a sailor, who seemed the most respectable of the somewhat miscellaneous company at the tavern, he learnt a good deal more. Finally his new friend offered to introduce him to the captain of the _Sea-mew_, a blockade-runner which was intending to sail the following day.
”Dioscorides,” said the sailor, ”is an honest man in his way. He would have taken your pa.s.sage-money for Rhegium, it is true, and made no scruple about carrying you to Carthage. That, you might say, is scarcely fair. But then you are quite safe with him. He won't cut your throat and throw you overboard for the sake of your pack. That's what I call honesty in a sea-captain. If you want to find a finer article, you will hardly get it on this side of the Pillars of Hercules. We will go on board at the last moment, and I will give him a hint that it is all straight.”
The object of going on board so late was to show that the person proposing himself as a pa.s.senger had no idea of lodging an information against the s.h.i.+p with the agent of the Roman Republic.
On the following day, accordingly, this programme was carried out. The _Sea-mew_ was taking on board the water wanted for the voyage, a part of the preparations naturally left to the last, when Cleanor and his friend reached the quay. A grizzled veteran, whose face was tanned by the suns and winds of some fifty years of voyaging, was receiving his last instructions from a keen-looking man, whose pale and unhealthy-looking skin spoke of long confinement to the desk and the counting-house. The conference over, Cleanor was introduced.
”My young friend here,” said the sailor, ”is going the same way as you are. Cleanor, this is Dioscorides, the captain of the _Sea-mew_. You could not sail with a better man; and you,” he went on, turning to the captain, ”will find him an agreeable and accommodating pa.s.senger.” The word ”accommodating” was emphasized by a wink.
”Good!” said the captain; ”come and see your quarters. That is the last water-cask, and now we are off.”
He led the way as he spoke to the gangway that connected the quay-side with the deck. In five minutes more the _Sea-mew_ was on her way westward.
A little after noon, the _Sea-mew_ being now fairly started and making good way with a strong breeze that was almost dead aft, the captain invited his pa.s.senger to come below. The cabin was not s.p.a.cious,--for the vessel, though carrying cargo, was built for speed, her owners having had in view the more risky kinds of trade,--but it was well furnished, and the meal that was spread on the table was almost sumptuous. The captain did not fail to observe his pa.s.senger's look of surprise.
”In this business,” he said, ”a mina or two this way or that does not make much odds. It is no use to save when you are going either to make your fortune or be drowned, or, it may be, hanged.”
”Possibly,” replied Cleanor; ”but a pa.s.senger is not in the same case. I am afraid that such fare will not suit my modest means.”
”Don't trouble yourself on that score,” returned the captain. ”Suppose we say fifty drachmas for your pa.s.sage-money, and ten more as a present to the crew, if the voyage turns out to your liking.”