Well, good-by, Swan!
I'll report you at Perim. An' mind you take care o' them letters. It
'ud be a pity if the Governor didn't 'ave 'em in time. By gad, I never
thought I'd owe the _Ocean Queen_ a good turn. She lost me my berth,
an' nearly cost me my ticket, but she's made it up to-day. Come on,
Tagg, we'll have a tot o' rum an' drink to the rotten ole hulk which
gev' us best ag'in that swaggerin' I-talian. My godfather, won't Becky
be pleased when she hears of it!"
And the two dived below to partake of the generous spirit which pays
homage to the rising sun, while the _Cigno_ bleated her distress to
deaf ears.
CHAPTER XIII
THE SIGN IN THE SKY
"There is a spice of the nomad in all of us," said Irene, pulling up
her hardy Somali pony and allowing him to graze on some prickly plant
from which a grass-fed animal would have turned in hungry disgust.
"Here am I, quite new to desert life, enjoying it to the full. Perhaps
my remote ancestors were gipsies. Do I look like a gipsy, Mr. Royson?"
"My acquaintance with gipsies is limited," said Dick.
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