Morton nodded thoughtfully as he lighted a cigar. Both remained silent. From the shore came the sounds of murmuring crowds, the splashing of oars, the shrill tones of muleteers and the hoarse laughter of negroes. Then followed the clanking of chains, the straining of ropes, a few short commands from the bridge and the anchors had dropped.
Everyone was delighted to have reached another milestone in the long journey home. Passengers were discussing as to whether they should continue in the “Hindoostan” or take the night train to Ishmaila or Alexandria. Perhaps there might be some excitement in Suez, or at Port Said? Congestion of traffic in those days delayed the passage through the Canal and even the P. & O. liner might lose two days.
Stewards passed back and forth, in and out of saloons, and announced, in loud voices and in intonations ranging from Cockney to the resonant drawl of Aberdeen, “Mail distributed in Purser’s office at 6.30.” One, more respectful than the rest, approached the Count, “Your Excellency, the chief has cables for you; shall I bring them to you?” The Count rose and with a courteous leave went to the purser’s cabin.
Morton, to whom the sights were not novel, leaned over the starboard side, looking toward the quiet dark waters of the bay. He thought over the past few days of his life on shipboard, the acquaintances he had made, and the new experiences that had come to him. How strange these all were! What would they mean to him in after years? Then thoughts of home surged over him, and a great longing seized him to be there again. If he took the express boat from Alexandria he would be in Brindisi in time to take the train for Paris--and then London, and then the Cunarder for home--New York by the twentieth--and a whole month before Christmas! Christmas--and the snow! He’d cable and advise his folks. No, perhaps he’d better wait for his mail. His eyes wandered back to the deck below and saw his man leaning against the bulwark. He gave a low whistle and addressed the upturned face: “Don, I am going down to get the mail. Shall I bring you yours?”
“Allright, Mr. John, thank you. There won’t be much to carry when you get it, I guess. Haven’t many correspondents these days.”