Not that I know much of ancient Danes,though I remember a modern Dane who did me out of ten pounds;but I remember once seeing a picture of some of those gentry,who,I take it,were a kind of white Zulus.They were drinking out of big horns,and their long hair hung down their backs,and as I looked at my friend standing there by the companion-ladder,I thought that if one only let his hair grow a bit,put one of those chain shirts on to those great shoulders of his,and gave him a big battle-axe and a horn mug,he might have sat as a model for that picture.And,by the way,it is a curious thing,and just shows how the blood will show out,I found out afterwards that Sir Henry Curtis,for that was the big man's name,was of Danish blood.He also reminded me strongly of somebody else,but at the time I could not remember who it was.
The other man,who stood talking to Sir Henry,was short,stout,and dark,and of quite a different cut.I suspected at once that he was a naval officer.I don't know why,but it is difficult to mistake a navy man.I have gone shooting trips with several of them in the course of my life,and they have always been just the best and bravest and nicest fellows I ever met,though given to the use of profane language.
I asked,a page or two back,what is a gentleman?I'll answer it now:a royal naval officer is,in a general sort of a way,though,of course,there may be a black sheep among them here and there.I fancy it is just the wide sea and the breath of God's winds that washes their hearts and blows the bitterness out of their minds and makes them what men ought to be.Well,to return,I was right again;I found out that he was a naval officer,a lieutenant of thirty-one,who,after seventeen years service,had been turned out of her majesty s employ with the barren honor of a commander's rank,because it was impossible that he should be promoted.
This is what people who serve the queen have to expect:to be shot out into the cold world to find a living just when they are beginning to really understand their work,and to get to the prime of life.Well,I suppose they don t mind it,but for my part I had rather earn my bread as a hunter.
One's half-pence are as scarce,perhaps,but you don t get so many kicks.
His name I found out -by referring to the passengers'list -was Good -Captain John Good.He was broad,of medium height,dark,stout,and rather a curious man to look at.He was so very neat and so very clean shaved,and he always wore an eye-glass in his right eye.It seemed to grow there,for it had no string,and he never took it out except to wipe it.At first I thought he used to sleep in it,but I afterwards found that this was a mistake.He put it in his trousers pocket when he went to bed,together with his false teeth,of which he had two beautiful sets that have often,my own being none of the best,caused me to break the tenth Commandment.
But I am anticipating.
Soon after we had got under way evening closed in,and brought with it very dirty weather.A keen breeze sprang up off land,and a kind of aggravated Scotch mist soon drove everybody from the deck.And as for that Dunkeld ,she is a flat-bottomed punt,and,going up light as she was,she rolled very heavily.It almost seemed as though she would go right over,but she never did.It was quite impossible to walk about,so I stood near the engines,where it was warm,and amused myself with watching the pendulum,which was fixed opposite to me,swinging slowly backward and forward as the vessel rolled,and marking the angle she touched at each lurch.
"That pendulum's wrong;it is not properly weighted,"suddenly said a voice at my shoulder,somewhat testily.Looking round I saw the naval officer I had noticed when the passengers came aboard.
"Indeed;now what makes you think so?"I asked.
"Think so.I don't think at all.Why there"as she righted herself after a roll -"if the ship had really rolled to the degree that thing pointed to then she would never have rolled again,that's all.But it is just like these merchant skippers,they always are so confoundedly careless."Just then the dinner-bell rang,and I was not sorry,far it is a dreadful thing to have to listen to an officer of the Royal Navy when he gets on to that subject.I only know one worse thing,and that is to hear a merchant skipper express his candid opinion of officers of the Royal Navy.
Captain Good and I went down to dinner together,and there we found Sir Henry Curtis already seated.He and Captain Good sat together,and I sat opposite to them.The captain and I soon got into talk about shooting and what not,he asking me many questions,and I answering as well as I could.Presently he got on to elephants.
"Ah,sir,"called out somebody who was sitting near me,"you've got to the right man for that;Hunter Quatermain should be able to tell you about elephants if anybody can."Sir Henry,who had been sitting quite quiet listening to our talk,started visibly.
"Excuse me,sir,"he said,leaning forward across the table,and speaking in a low,deep voice,a very suitable voice,it seemed to me,to come out of those great lungs."Excuse me,sir,but is your name Allan Quatermain?"I said it was.
The big man made no further remark,but I heard him mutter "fortunate"into his beard.
Presently dinner came to an end,and as we were leaving the saloon Sir Henry came up and asked me if I would come into his cabin and smoke a pipe.I accepted,and he led the way to the Dunkeld deck cabin,and a very good cabin it was.It had been two cabins,but when Sir Garnet,or one of those big swells,went down the coast in the Dunkeld they had knocked away the partition and never put it up again.There was a sofa in the cabin,and a little table in front of it.Sir Henry sent the steward for a bottle of whiskey,and the three of us sat down and lit our pipes.
