“Pish,” I said; “if I choose to dress simply, I cannot object to being mistaken for a simple man. It is not my pleasure to advertise my quality by the gauds on my garb. If you think amends are due to me, I pray of your charity that this inquisition may end.”
The fellow was all bows and obsequiousness. “I am the humblest of my lord’s servants,” he said. “It will be my exceeding honour to pilot my lord’s galley into the berth appointed in harbour.”
The boat shot ahead, and our galley-slaves swung into stroke again. Tob watched me with a dry smile as he stood directing the men at the helms.
“Well,” I said, humouring his whim, “what is it?”
“I’m thinking,” said Tob, “that my Lord Deucalion will remember me only as a very rude fellow when he steps ashore amongst all this fine gentility.”
“You don’t think,” said I, “anything of the kind.”
“Then I must prove my refinement,” said Tob, “and not contradict.” He picked up my hand in his huge, hard fist, and pressed it. “By the Gods, Deucalion, you may be a great prince, but I’ve only known you as a man. You’re the finest fighter of beasts and men that walks this world to-day, and I love you for it. That spear-stroke of yours on the lizard is a thing the singers in the taverns shall make chaunts about.”
We drew rapidly into the harbour, the soldiers in the entrance castle blowing their trumpets in welcome as we passed between them. The captain of the port had run up my banner to the masthead of his boat, having been provided with one apparently for this purpose of announcement, and from the quays, across the vast basin of the harbour, there presently came to us the noises of musicians, and the pale glow of welcoming fires, dancing under the sunlight. I was almost awed to think that an Empress of Atlantis had come to such straits as to feel an interest like this in any mere returning subject.
It was clear that nothing was to be done by halves. The port-captain’s boat led, and we had no choice but to follow. Our galley was run up alongside the royal quay and moored to its posts and rings of gold, all of which are sacred to the reigning house.
“If Dason could only have foreseen this honour,” said Tob, with grisly jest, “I’m sure he’d have laid in a silken warp to make fast on the bollards instead of mere plebeian hemp. I’m sure there’d be a frown on Dason’s head this minute, if the sun hadn’t scorched it stiff. My Lord Deucalion, will you pick your way with niceness over this common ship and tread on the genteel carpet they’ve spread for you on the quay yonder?”