“Undoubtedly, your lordship,” replied the young captain; “and yet, I confess, Miss Grant is better in her place on deck, than taking a reef in the topsail. But still I am very much flattered to hear her speak so.”
“And especially when she admires the Duncan!” added Glenarvan.
“Right, my lord; for she deserves it.”
“Upon my word,” said Lady Helena, “since you are so proud of your yacht, you make me anxious to examine her to the very hold, and see how our brave sailors are quartered between-decks.”
“Admirably,” replied the captain; “they are quite at home there.”
“Indeed they are, my dear Helena,” said Lord Glenarvan. “This yacht is a part of our old Caledonia—a detached portion of the county of Dumbarton, traveling by special favor, so that we have not left our country. The Duncan is Malcolm Castle, and the ocean is Loch Lomond.”
“Well, then, my dear Edward, do the honors of the castle,” said Lady Helena.
“I am at your disposal, madam,” answered her husband; “but first let me inform Olbinett.”
The steward of the yacht was an excellent manager, a Scotchman, who deserved to have been a Frenchman from his self-importance, and, moreover, fulfilled his duties with zeal and intelligence. He was at once ready for his master’s commands.
“Olbinett, we are going to make a tour of the vessel before breakfast,” said Glenarvan, as if a journey to Tarbet or Loch Katrine was in question. “I hope we shall find the table ready on our return.”
Olbinett bowed gravely.
“Do you accompany us, major?” asked Lady Helena.
“If you order it,” replied MacNabb.
“Oh!” said Lord Glenarvan, “the major is absorbed in the smoke of his cigar; we must not disturb him, for I assure you he is an inveterate smoker, Miss Mary; he smokes all the time, even in his sleep.”
The major made a sign of assent, and the passengers descended between-decks.
MacNabb remained alone, talking to himself, according to his custom, but never contradicting himself. Enveloped in a dense cloud of smoke, he stood motionless, gazing back at the wake of the yacht. After a few moments of contemplation, he turned and found himself face to face with a new character. If anything could have surprised him, it must have been this meeting, for the passenger was absolutely unknown to him.
This man, tall, lank, and shriveled, might have been forty years old. He resembled a long, broad-headed nail, for his head was large and thick, his forehead high, his nose prominent, his mouth wide, and his chin blunt. As for his eyes, they were hidden behind enormous eyeglasses, and his look seemed to have that indecision peculiar to nyctalops. His countenance indicated an intelligent and lively person, while it had not the crabbed air of those stern people who from principle never laugh, and whose stupidity is hidden beneath a serious guise. The nonchalance and amiable freedom of this unknown nonentity clearly proved that he knew how to take men and things at their best advantage. Even without his speaking you felt that he was a talker; but he was abstracted, after the manner of those who do not see what they are looking at or hear what they are listening to. He wore a traveling cap, stout yellow buskins and leather gaiters, pantaloons of maroon velvet, and a jacket of the same material, whose innumerable pockets seemed stuffed with notebooks, memoranda, scraps, portfolios, and a thousand articles as inconvenient as they were useless, not to speak of a telescope which he carried in a sling.
The curiosity of this unknown being was a singular contrast to the calmness of the major. He walked around MacNabb, and gazed at him questioningly, whilst the latter did not trouble himself whence the stranger came, whither he was going, or why he was on board the Duncan.
When this enigmatical character saw his approaches mocked by the indifference of the major, he seized his telescope, which at its full length measured four feet; and motionless, with legs straddled, like a signpost on a highway, he pointed his instrument to the line where sky and water met. After a few moments of examination, he lowered it, and resting it on the deck, leaned upon it as upon a cane. But immediately the joints of the instrument closed, and the newly discovered passenger, whose point of support suddenly failed, was stretched at the foot of the mainmast.
Anyone else in the major’s place would at least have smiled, but he did not even wink. The unknown then assumed his role.
“Steward!” he cried, with an accent that betokened a foreigner.
He waited. No one appeared.
“Steward!” he repeated, in a louder tone.
Mr. Olbinett was passing just then on his way to the kitchen under the forecastle. What was his astonishment to hear himself thus addressed by this tall individual, who was utterly unknown to him!
“Where did this person come from?” said he to himself. “A friend of Lord Glenarvan? It is impossible.”
However, he came on deck, and approached the stranger.
“Are you the steward of the vessel?” the latter asked him.
“Yes, sir,” replied Olbinett; “but I have not the honor—”
“I am the passenger of cabin number six.”
“Number six?” repeated the steward.
“Certainly; and your name is—?”
“Olbinett.”
“Well, Olbinett, my friend,” answered the stranger of cabin number six, “I must think of dinner, and acutely, too. For thirty-six hours I have eaten nothing, or, rather, have slept, which is pardonable in a man come all the way from Paris to Glasgow. What hour do you dine, if you please?”
“At nine o’clock,” answered Olbinett, mechanically.
The stranger attempted to consult his watch; but this took some time, for he did not find it till he came to his ninth pocket.
“Well,” said he, “it is not yet eight o’clock; therefore, Olbinett, a biscuit and a glass of sherry for the present;
