"After us?" repeated Dick.
"That's the way I read it. She's from Massowah. The reg'lar channel is
fifty miles east. Tell you wot, it's that I-talian gunboat the guv'nor
spoke about."
"But she was not in port when we left."
"No. We passed her comin' in."
"Ah, she recognized us?"
"Not much. We were under sail, an carried no masthead light. When I
twigged hers I tied a couple of sou'westers over our side lights. It's
a good thing at sea to mind your own business sometimes, an', more'n
that, to take care that other people mind theirs when they want to be
nasty."
"Shall we keep on under canvas, sir?"
"As long as the wind lasts," said Stump, closing the telescope and
rolling off towards the saloon. Within a minute all hands were on deck.
The corporate life of a small ship is closely knit. The word had gone
round that a gunboat was in pursuit, and every one wanted to see her.
Mr. Fenshawe and Baron von Kerber stood apart. The older man was
visibly annoyed by this new instance of Italian interference.
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