. . .
He interrupted me. "Why! Hang it! You are the right man
for that job—if there had been twenty others after it. But no fear
of that. They are all afraid to catch hold. That's what's the
matter."
He was very irritated. I said innocently: "Are they, sir. I
wonder why?"
"Why!" he fumed. "Afraid of the sails. Afraid of a white crew.
Too much trouble. Too much work. Too long out here. Easy life and
deck-chairs more their mark. Here I sit with the Consul-General's
cable before me, and the only man fit for the job not to be found
anywhere. I began to think you were funking it, too. . . ."
"I haven't been long getting to the office," I remarked
calmly.
"You have a good name out here, though," he growled savagely
without looking at me.
"I am very glad to hear it from you, sir," I said.
"Yes. But you are not on the spot when you are wanted. You know
you weren't. That steward of yours wouldn't dare to neglect a
message from this office. Where the devil did you hide yourself for
the best part of the day?"
I only smiled kindly down on him, and he seemed to recollect
himself, and asked me to take a seat. He explained that the master
of a British ship having died in Bangkok the Consul-General had
cabled to him a request for a competent man to be sent out to take
command.
Apparently, in his mind, I was the man from the first, though
for the looks of the thing the notification addressed to the
Sailors' Home was general. An agreement had already been prepared.
He gave it to me to read, and when I handed it back to him with the
remark that I accepted its terms, the deputy-Neptune signed it,
stamped it with his own exalted hand, folded it in four (it was a
sheet of blue foolscap) and presented it to me—a gift of
extraordinary potency, for, as I put it in my pocket, my head swam
a little.
"This is your appointment to the command," he said with a
certain gravity. "An official appointment binding the owners to
conditions which you have accepted. Now—when will you be ready to
go?"
I said I would be ready that very day if necessary. He caught me
at my word with great alacrity. The steamer Melita was leaving for
Bangkok that evening about seven. He would request her captain
officially to give me a passage and wait for me till ten
o'clock.
Then he rose from his office chair, and I got up, too.
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