At two o’clock we went to lunch with the Consul, and what a pleasant lunch it was, prepared by a French cook, and eaten in a cool, airy, and shady room free from flies, which were kept out by fine wire gauze placed in front of each well-shaded door and window! The table was one mass of the roses for which Alexandria is so famous. Everybody had wandered about the world more or less, everybody was in good spirits, and we laughed and chatted and talked sense or nonsense as the fancy took us, till it was time to go on board the yacht en masse, and receive some visitors at tea. A few had arrived before us, but the children and some others of the party were on board and had been doing the honours and showing them round. About 5.30 p.m. our last guests departed, and all was ready for a start; but, alas! we had to wait for an absent steward, who had gone in search of the always late linen, that plague of the poor yachtsman’s life when he has a large party on board. The sun was sinking fast, the wind was blowing fresh and fair, and if we did not start soon it would be impossible to do so at all, and a night’s work of more than 120 miles would be lost. At last the welcome boat was seen coming from the shore; we unmoored, and went ahead for about an hour. But the light gradually faded away; it became impossible to distinguish the beacon; the sand banks are numerous, and there are no lights. It was only endangering the ship and the lives of all on board to proceed; so the order was reluctantly given, ‘Hard a-port.’ Round she went in her own length almost, and very soon we let go the anchor just outside our old moorings, and spent the night, after all, in the harbour of Alexandria.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
‘HOME.’