"I'm a British subject," Wenlock shouted. "I've a Foreign Office pa.s.sport in my pocket. I'll appeal to my Government over this."

"My lad," said Kettle, "you won't have time to appeal. The lady isn't being funny. She means square biz. If you don't be sensible, and see things in the same way she does, it'll be one _che-opp_, and what happens afterward won't interest you."

"Those spikes," said Wenlock faintly.

"Above the water-gate?" said Kettle. "Queer, but the same thing occurred to me, too. You'd feel a bit lonely stuck up there getting sun-dried."

"I'll marry her."

"You'd better spread a bit more politeness about," Kettle advised. "It will be all the more comfortable for you afterward if you do." And so Wenlock, with desperation nerving him, poured out all the pretty speeches which he had in store, and which he had looked to use to this very woman under such very different circ.u.mstances. But he did not even suggest taking his future spouse back to England.

She, too, when she graciously pardoned his previous outburst, mentioned her decision on this matter also.

"I am Emir here," she said, "and I could not be Emir in your England without many fights. So here I shall stay, and you with me. When there is war, you shall ride at my side; in peace I will give you a governorship over a ward of this town, from which you can get your taxes. And if there are children, you shall bring them up."

The mullah, who knew better than to keep his ruler waiting, had come in, and they were forthwith married, solemnly and irrevocably, according to the rites and ceremonies of the Mohammedan Church, as practised in the kingdom of Dunkhot. And in witness thereof, Captain Kettle wrote his name from left to right, in contradistinction to all the other signatories, who wrote from right to left, except the bridegroom.

"And now, Mr. Wenlock, if you please," said Kettle, "as you're comfortably tied to the lady of your choice, I'll trouble you for that fee you promised."

"I'll see you in somewhere hotter than Arabia," said the bridegroom, mopping his pale face.

"Now look," said Kettle, "I'm not going to sc.r.a.p with you here, and I don't want to break up this happy home with domestic unpleasantness; but if you don't hand me over that 50, I shall ask your good lady to get it for me."

Wenlock sullenly handed out a note.

"Thank you. I know you feel injured, but I'm earning this money exactly according to promise, and of you don't quite like what's been done, you must remember that it's your own fault for not wording the agreement a bit more carefully. And now, as I seem to have got through my business here, if it's agreeable to all parties, I'll be going. Good-by, Mrs.

Wenlock, madam. Let me call you by your name for the first time."

The Lady Emir set back her great shoulders. "That is not my name," she said. "I am Emir. My name does not change."

"Beg pardon," said Kettle, "he takes yours, does he? Didn't know that was the custom of this country. Well, good-afternoon."

"But do you want," said the lady, "no present?"

"Thank you," said Kettle, with a c.o.c.k of the head, "but I take presents from no one. What bit of a living I get, your ladyship, I earn."

"I do not onderstand. But you are sailor. You have ship. You wish cargo?"

Captain Kettle snapped his fingers ecstatically. "Now, ma'am, there you've hit it. Cargo's what I do want. I'll have to tell you that freights are up a good deal just now, and you'll have to pay for accommodation, but my ship's a good one, and my firm's reliable, and will see that you are dealt by honest at the other end."

"I do not onderstand."

"Of course you don't, your Majesty; of course you don't. Ladies like you don't have to bother with the shipping trade. But just you give me a line to the princ.i.p.al merchants in the town saying that you'd like me to have a few tons of their stuff, and that'll do. I guess that what your ladyship likes round here is usually done."

"You wish me write. I will write. Now we will wash hands, and there is banquet."

And so it came to pa.s.s that, some twenty-four hours later, Captain Kettle returned to the _Parakeet_ sun-scorched, and flushed with success, and relieved the anxious Murray from his watch. The mate was naturally curious to know what happened ash.o.r.e.

"Let me get a gla.s.s of Christian beer to wash all their sticky nastinesses from my neck, and I'll tell you," said Kettle, and he did with fine detail and circ.u.mstance.

"Well, Wenlock's got his heiress anyway," said Murray, with a sigh, when the tale was over. "I suppose we may as well get under way now, sir."

"Not much," said Kettle jubilantly. "Why, man, I've squeezed every ton of cargo they have in the place, and stuck them for freights in a way that would surprise you. Here's the tally: 270 bags of coffee, 700 packets of dates, 350 baskets of figs, and all for London. And, mark you," said Kettle, hitting the table, "that or more'll be waiting for me there every time I come, and no other skipper need apply."

"H'm," said the mate thoughtfully; "but will Wenlock be as civil and limp next time you call, sir?"

Captain Kettle winked pleasantly, and put a fifty-pound note in his lock-up drawer. "That's all right, my lad. No fear of Master Wenlock getting his tail up. If you'd seen the good lady, his wife, you'd know why. That's the man that went hunting an heiress, Mr. Murray; and by the holy James he's got her, and no error."

CHAPTER IX

A MATTER OF JUSTICE

It was quite evident that the man wanted something; but Captain Kettle did not choose definitely to ask for his wishes. Over-curiosity is not a thing that pays with Orientals. Stolid indifference, on the other hand, may earn easy admiration.

But at last the man took his courage in a firmer grip, and came up from the _Parakeet's_ lower deck, where the hands were working cargo, and advanced under the bridge deck awnings to Captain Kettle's long chair and salaamed low before him.

Kettle seemed to see the man for the first time. He looked up from the accounts he was laboring at. "Well?" he said, curtly.

It was clear the Arab had no English. It was clear also that he feared being watched by his fellow countrymen in the lighter which was discharging date bags alongside. He manoeuvred till the broad of his back covered his movements, materialized somehow or other a sc.r.a.p of paper from some fold of his burnous, dropped this into Kettle's lap without any perceptible movement of either his arms or hands, and then gave another stately salaam and moved away to the place from which he had come.

"If you are an out-of-work conjuror," said Kettle to the retreating figure, "you've come to the wrong place to get employment here."

The Arab pa.s.sed out of sight without once turning his head, and Kettle glanced down at the screw of paper which lay on his knees, and saw on it a scrawl of writing.

"Hullo," he said, "postman, were you; not conjuror? I didn't expect any mail here. However, let's see. Murray's writing, by James!" he muttered, as he flattened out the grimy sc.r.a.p of paper, and then he whistled-with surprise and disgust as he read.

"_Dear Captain_," the letter ran. "_I've got into the deuce of a mess, and if you can bear a hand to pull me out, it would be a favor I should never forget. I got caught up that side street to the left past the mosque, but they covered my head with a cloth directly after, and hustled me on for half an hour, and where I am now, the d.i.c.kens only knows. It's a cellar. But perhaps bearer may know, who's got my watch. The trouble was about a woman, a pretty little piece who I was photographing. You see_--"

And here the letter broke off.

"That's the worst of these fancy, high-toned mates," Kettle grumbled.

"What does he want to go ash.o.r.e for at a one-eyed hole like this? There are no saloons--and besides he isn't a drinking man. Your new-fashioned mate isn't. There are no girls for him to kiss--seeing that they are all Mohammedans, and wear a veil. And as for going round with that photography box of his, I wonder he hasn't more pride. I don't like to see a smart young fellow like him, that's got his master's ticket all new and ready in his chest, bringing himself down to the level of a common, dirty-haired artist. Well, Murray's got a lot to learn before he finds an owner fit to trust him with a ship of his own."

Kettle read the hurried letter through a second time, and then got up out of his long chair, and put on his spruce white drill uniform coat, and exchanged his white canvas shoes for another pair more newly pipeclayed. His steamer might merely be a common cargo tramp, the town he was going to visit ash.o.r.e might be merely the usual savage settlement one meets with on the Arabian sh.o.r.e of the Persian Gulf, but the little sailor did not dress for the admiration of fashionable crowds. He was smart and spruce always out of deference to his own self-respect.

He went up to the second mate at the tally desk on the main deck below, and gave him some instructions. "I'm going ash.o.r.e," he said, "and leave you in charge. Don't let too many of these n.i.g.g.e.rs come aboard at once, and tell the steward to keep all the doors to below snugly fastened. I locked the chart-house myself when I came out. Have you heard about the mate?"

"No, sir."

"Ah, I thought the news would have been spread well about the ship before it came to me. He's got in trouble ash.o.r.e, and I suppose I must go, and see the Kady, and get him bailed out."

The second mate wiped the dust and perspiration from his face with his bare arm, and leant on the tally-desk, and grinned. Here seemed to be an opportunity for the relaxation of stiff official relations. "What's tripped him?" he asked. "Skirt or photographing?"

"He will probably tell you himself when he comes back," said Kettle coldly. "I shall send him to his room for three days when he gets on board."