The melodious sound of a silver temple-gong announced the service of a meal as perfect in its way as anything arranged on salt water can be.
The wines, of the choicest French and Spanish vintages, were such as few ‘Amphitryons où l’on dîne’ have the privilege of presenting to a guest. The turtle soup would have tempted an alderman to change his religion. But once previously had Carteret tasted such Madeira as followed it. The fish, the prawn curry, the beautiful crested pigeons of the islands, guinea-fowls in size, pheasants in delicacy of flavour—without pursuing the detail, it may be assumed from Carteret’s testimony, then and afterwards, that a jury of _gourmets_ would have been hard set to decide in favour of any naval competing function of the day. The dry champagne which followed the hock was of a known, accredited _crû_, but did not tempt Carteret to do more than reasonable justice to it. He had no intention of measuring strength of brain against his entertainer; more particularly with a vitally important stake on the cards. At a comparatively early hour he discussed with Hayston the more binding terms of the agreement, and argued them out, clause by clause, before they parted for the night. Not wholly satisfied with the propriety of concluding the affair after dinner, moderate as had been his potations, Carteret deferred the signing and sealing of the final instrument till noon on the following day. Which was at once agreed to.
Captain Hayston, indeed, expressed his intention of sailing for foreign parts on the morrow. Thus, if all preliminaries were completed at mid-day, he would be free to lift anchor, and taking advantage of the breeze off the land would initiate action. Doubtless he had intelligence agents on whom he could rely—agents ‘steady of heart, and stout of hand’ as ever served king or minister, and who dared not play him false. When, therefore, the _Leonora_ shook out her topsails and stood off the land, a point or two to the south of west, shaping a course for the crimson afterglow of the fading sunset, there were ten thousand of Carteret’s dollars in the double-handled casket of the slaver Leon Gonzales, late master of the _Pedro Torero_—also in the private escritoire an order for five hundred pounds, payable on demand by the firm of Robert Towns and Co., Fort Street, Sydney, endorsed by Oppenheimer Brothers, of Suva, Fiji.