And his voice was still cheerful.

XXXVI

CAPTAIN CABLE SOILS HIS HANDS

Cartoner was preparing to leave St. Petersburg when he received a letter from Deulin.  The Frenchman wrote from Cracow, and mentioned in a rather rambling letter that Wanda was staying with a relative in that ancient city.  He also thought it probable that she would make a stay in England pending the settlement of certain family affairs.

“I suppose,” wrote Deulin, “that you will soon be on your way home.  I think it likely we shall both be sent to Madrid before long.  At all events, I hope we may meet somewhere.  If you are passing through Dantzic on your homeward journey, you will find your old friend Cable there.”

This last sentence was partly disfigured by a peculiar-shaped blot.  The writer had evidently dropped his pen, all laden with ink, upon the letter as he wrote it.  And Cartoner knew that this was the kernel, as it were, of this chatty epistle.  He was bidden to make it convenient to go to Dantzic and to see Captain Cable there.

He arrived in Dantzic early in the morning, and did not go to a hotel.  He left his luggage at the station and walked down to the Lange Brucke, where the river steamers start for Neufahrwasser.

The boats ran every hour, and Cartoner had not long to wait.  He was not pressed for time, however, on his homeward journey, as he was more or less his own master while travelling, and could break his journey at Dantzic quite as easily as at Berlin.

Neufahrwasser is slowly absorbing the commerce of Dantzic, and none but small vessels go up the river to the city now.  Captain Cable was deeply versed in those by-paths of maritime knowledge which enable small vessels to hold their own in these days of monopoly.

Cartoner knew that he would find the Minnie not in dock, but in one of the river anchorages, which are not only cheaper, but are more convenient for a vessel wanting to go to sea at short notice.  And Captain Cable had a habit of going to sea at short notice.

Cartoner was not far wrong.  For his own steamer passed the Minnie just above Neufahrwasser, where the river is broad and many vessels lie in mid-stream.  The Minnie was deeply laden and lay anchored bow and stern, with the rapid tide rustling round her chains.  She was ready for sea.  Cartoner could see that.  But she flew no bluepeter nor heralded her departure, as some captains, and especially foreigners, love to do.  It adds to their sense of importance, and this was a modern quality little cultivated by Captain Cable.  Neither was his steam aggressively in evidence.  The Minnie did not catch the eye of the river-side idler, but conveyed the impression that she was a small, insignificant craft minding her own business, and would be much obliged if you would mind yours.

Cartoner had to walk back by the river-side and then take a boat from the steps opposite to the anchorage.  He bade the boatman wait while he clambered on board.  Captain Cable had been informed of the approach of a shore boat, and was standing squarely on his own iron main-deck when Cartoner put his leg across the rail.