When dinner was over, Dick sat by himself in a quiet spot on the liner's
quarter-deck. There was a tall, iron bulwark beside him, but close by
this was replaced by netted rails, through which he caught the pale
shimmer of the sea. The warm land-breeze had freshened and ripples
splashed against the vessel's side, while every now and then a languid
gurgle rose from about her waterline and the foam her plates threw off
was filled with phosphorescent flame. A string band was playing on the
poop, and passengers and guests moved through the intricate figures of a
Spanish dance on the broad deck below. Their poses were graceful and
their dress was picturesque, but Dick watched them listlessly.
He was not in a mood for dancing, for he had been working hard at the dam
and his thoughts were disturbed. Clare had refused him, and although he
did not accept her decision as final, he could see no way of taking her
out of her father's hands, while he had made no progress towards
unraveling the latter's plots. Kenwardine was not on board, but Dick had
only seen Clare at some distance off across the table in the saloon.
Moreover, he thought she must have taken some trouble to avoid meeting
him.
Then he remembered the speeches made by the visitors at dinner, and the
steamship officers' replies. The former, colored by French and Spanish
politeness and American wit, eulogized the power of the British navy and
the courage of her merchant captains. There was war, they said, but
British commerce went on without a check; goods shipped beneath the red
ensign would be delivered safe in spite of storm and strife; Britannia,
with trident poised, guarded the seas. For this the boldly-announced
sailing list served as text, but Dick, who made allowances for exuberant
Latin sentiment, noted the captain's response with some surprise.
His speech was flamboyant, and did not harmonize with the character of
the man, who had called at the port before in command of another ship. He
was gray-haired and generally reserved. Dick had not expected him to
indulge in cheap patriotism, but he called the British ensign the meteor
flag, defied its enemies, and declared that no hostile fleets could
prevent his employers carrying their engagements out. Since the man was
obviously sober, Dick supposed he was touting for business and wanted to
assure the merchants that the sailings of the company's steamers could be
relied upon. Still, this kind of thing was not good British form.
By and by Don Sebastian came down a ladder from the saloon deck with
Clare behind him. Dick felt tempted to retire but conquered the impulse
and the Spaniard came up.
"I have some business with the purser, who is waiting for me, but cannot
find my señora," he explained, and Dick, knowing that local conventions
forbade his leaving Clare alone, understood it as a request that he
should take care of her until the other's return.