When we reached La Guayra—­and the voyage seemed to me a never-ending one—­I immediately set about finding a vessel bound for England.  My captain advised me to go up on the mountains and wait until a steamer should sail for New York, which event might be expected in two or three weeks.  America would be much better for me, he thought, than would England.  But I paid no attention to him, and as there was nothing in port that would sail for England, I took passage in a Spanish steamer bound for Barcelona.  Arriving there, after a passage long enough to give me plenty of time for the consideration of the last two words I heard from Mary Phillips, and of the value of the communications I had received regarding Captain Guy Chesters, I immediately started by rail for London.  On this journey I found that what I had heard concerning the rescue of my Bertha had had a greater effect upon me than I had supposed.  Trains could not go fast enough for me.  I was as restless as a maniac; I may have looked like one.

Over and over I tried to quiet myself by comforting reflections, saying to myself, for instance, that if the message which Bertha had sent floating on the sea to me had not been a good one, she would not have sent it.  Feel as she might, she could not have been so hard-hearted as to crush the hopes of a man who, like herself, might soon lie in a watery grave.  But then, there was that terrible word “but.”  Looked at in certain lights, what could be more crushing or heart-breaking than that?

And then again, Mary Phillips may not have understood what I said to her through the speaking-trumpet.  A grim humor of despair suggested that at that distance, and in that blustering wind, the faithful maid-servant might have thought that instead of shouting that I loved my Bertha, I was asking her if they had plenty of salt pork and hardtack.  It was indeed a time of terrible suspense.

I did not know Bertha’s address in England.  I knew that she had friends in London and others in the country; but I was sure that I would find her if she were on the island.  I arrived in London very early in the morning, too early to expect to find open any of the banking-houses or other places where Americans would be likely to register.  Unable to remain inactive, I took a cab and drove to the London docks.

I went to inquire the whereabouts of Captain Guy Chesters.

This plan of action was almost repulsive to me, but I felt that it offered an opportunity which I should not neglect.  I would certainly learn about Bertha if I saw him, and whether it would be anything good or anything bad I ought to know it.

In making my inquiries the cabman was of much assistance to me.  And after having been referred from one person to another, I at last found a man, first mate of a vessel in the docks, who knew Captain Chesters, and could tell me all about him.