twelve hundred miles from Aden. There’s the exact spot marked on my chart. But I should never forget it if it wasn’t. That mark means adjectives. I had had it all out with Batters about our route. The short cut was what he wanted. It was what I wanted too. But what I did not want was to pay the Canal dues. In fact I couldn’t. There was not enough money belonging to the ship on board. I hadn’t told Batters as much as that, but I had made it clear to him that he’d have to pay. So the arrangement stood that we were to come home by Suez; and he was to hand me over the coin to take us through. We should have to coal at Aden. How we had managed so far was beyond my understanding. Rudd was a marvel. He would make a skip of coal go as far as some men would a ton. Stores we had taken in here a little, and there a little, living from hand to mouth. But we had bought no coal. I had said to Rudd:
“Shall we run into Colombo and have some put into our bunkers there?”
He pondered—it was his way to ponder—then shook his head.
“I’m thinking we’ll last to Aden. I’m thinking it. And I don’t seem to fancy a stop at Colombo with Mr. Batters aboard.”
I looked to see from his face if his words had any hidden meaning. There seemed to be something behind everything he said, till you grew tired of trying to find out what it was. He was always dropping hints, was Rudd. There appeared to be nothing unusual about his wooden-looking countenance. So I concluded to give his words their dictionary meaning.
“If you think we can last to Aden, we will. It will save time. And coal’s cheaper there.”
So it was settled. And now we were heading straight for Aden. The weather had cleared. I had told that girl I loved her. Every vein in my body
