In rising to his feet he nearly fell owing to the heavy roll of the vessel--a steamer evidently, for he could feel the vibration of the engines. Unsteadily he opened the door, and found himself in a narrow gangway, with several cabins on either side. Opposite him a door stood open, revealing a burly, dark-bearded man in uniform lounging in a chair, smoking a pipe and reading a book.
Hearing Gerald's footsteps he turned his head.
"Hulloa!" he cried roughly. "Got over your drunk then, Mr. Simpson? Come in here!"
"Thanks," was Durrant's reply. "But I never drink, and my name is not Simpson."
"Ah! I thought you'd say that! Sit down, anyway," the captain remarked, with a good-humoured laugh. "Yesterday when we had a chat, you didn't deny that your name was George Simpson, did you?"
"I don't remember having had a chat with you yesterday," replied Gerald, amazed at the captain's words.
"Ah! You don't remember much, do you? Got a very bad memory, I know."
"No, I've got a pretty good memory, and to my knowledge I've never seen you in my life before."
"And yet you spent last night with me, and drank more than you ought to have done. Whisky is a bad thing for you, young fellow. You should leave it alone. Never drink till you're forty-five. That's what I say."
Durrant sank into the chair, and gazed around the captain's cabin absolutely bewildered.
"You asked me that yesterday. This is the _Pentyrch_, of Sunderland, bound from Hull to Singapore," was the reply.
"And we are on our way there!" gasped the young man in blank dismay.
"Will you tell me your name, Captain?" Durrant asked quite calmly.
"Bowden--John Bowden. And I live at Empress Villa, Queen Street, Sunderland. Aged forty-one; married; two kids. Anything more?"
"You asked me a lot of questions about the ship last night, and I told you. We've got a general cargo, and after Singapore we go to Batavia, then to Wellington, New Zealand, and back home."
"Oh! perhaps nine months--perhaps more if I get other orders," was Bowden's breezy reply. "This old tub ain't very fast, you know. She isn't one of your slap-up liners. We never have passengers. I don't like 'em. Only Mr. Morton asked me to take you out for the benefit of your health, and I consented."