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"Pull yourself together, Dick, or there'll be a mess," said Shewell softly. "My God, how could you do it?" replied his brother aghast. Meanwhile the anchor had been raised, and the Hornet was moving towards the harbour mouth. "You have ruined us both," said Richard Debney. "Neither, Dick! I'll save your bacon."
Shaw and myself, who were both magistrates, if we would take a "didemus potastatum" to Monkira, about 100 miles down the river from Diamantina Lakes, and swear in Mr. Debney, the manager, as a Justice of the Peace. We consented; it was an excuse for seeing more of the country, and for a longer outing. After a few days spent at the Lakes, we started with my team and buggy, accompanied by Mr.
But he never did, for as the Cormorant cleared the harbour that evening there came an accident to her machinery, and with two days' start the Hornet was on her way to be sold again to a South American Republic. And Edward Debney, once her captain? What does it matter? Lady Tynemouth was interested; his Excellency was amused. The interest was real, the amusement was not ironical.
Mostyn lit a cigar, and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, regarded the scene before him with genial meditation the creamy wash of the sea at their feet, the surface of the water like corrugated silver stretching to the farther sky, with that long lane of golden light crossing it to the sun, Alcatras, Angel Island, Saucilito, the rocky fortresses, and the men-of-war in the harbour, on one of which flew the British ensign the Cormorant, commanded by Debney.
Then they talked of other things, but as they turned at the Presidio for a last look at the Golden Gate, Mostyn said musingly: "I wonder how many millions' worth of smuggled opium have come in that open door?" Debney shrugged a shoulder. "Try Nob Hill, Fifth Avenue, and the Champs Elysees. What does a poor man-o'-war's-man know of such things?"
He was received with the usual formalities, and was greeted at once by Captain Shewell. As the eyes of the two men met both started, but Captain Debney was most shaken. He turned white, and put out his hand to the bulwark to steady himself. But Captain Shewell held the hand that had been put out; shook it, pressed it. He tried to urge Captain Debney forward, but the other drew back to the gangway.
The long wash of the Pacific was in their ears at their left, behind them was the Presidio, from which they had come after a visit to the officers, and before them was the warm, inviting distance of waters, which lead, as all men know, to the Lotos Isles. Debney sighed and shook his head. "He was, by nature, the ablest man I ever knew. Everything in the world interested him."
Just as he was lifting anchor to get away, he saw a boat shoot out from the side of the Cormorant. Captain Debney, indignant at the lack of etiquette, and a little suspicious also now for there was no Hornet in the Pacific Squadron, though there was a Hornet, he knew, in the China Squadron was coming to visit the discourteous commander.
He made a sign, the gangway was closed, he gave the word for full steam ahead, and the Hornet began to race through the water before Captain Debney guessed his purpose. "What do you mean to do?" he asked sternly, as he saw his own gig falling astern. "To make it hard for you to blow me to pieces. You've got to do it, of course, if you can, but I must get a start."
"Poor Ted!" said Mostyn at last; "he might have been anything." "Let us get back to the Cormorant," responded Debney sadly. "And see, old chap, when you get back to England, I wish you'd visit my mother for me, for I shall not see her for another year, and she's always anxious always since Ted left." Mostyn grasped the other's hand, and said: "It's the second thing I'll do on landing, my boy."
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