Dick noticed that all his actions were wonderfully nimble for a
man of his build. Any stranger who imagined that this squat Hercules
was slow and ponderous in movement would be wofully mistaken if he
based hostilities on that presumption.
Perhaps the captain missed the companionship of the stout lady he had
parted from at Charing Cross, or it might be that his gruffness was a
matter of habit--at any rate, after a puff or two, he spoke to Royson
again.
"D'ye know wot time we're due at Dover?" he asked.
"Yes, at 10.50."
"We don't stop long there?"
"No. The boat sails ten minutes later."
"Good. I don't cotton on to these blessed trains. Every time they jolt
I fancy we're on the rocks. Give me a ship, an' the steady beat of the
screw, sez I. Then I know where I am."
"I quite agree with you, captain, but you must put up with a fair spell
of railway bumping before you reach Marseilles."
Stump gave him a questioning look. Royson did not resemble the type of
land shark with which he was familiar.
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