It was a very hot day indeed. We were unshaved, unwashed,
undressed, unfed, and could hardly enjoy the absurdity of lying
blistering in a lazy harbour, with the town looking on from a
respectful distance, all manner of whiskered men in cocked hats
discussing our fate at a remote guard-house, with gestures (we
looked very hard at them through telescopes) expressive of a week's
detention at least: and nothing whatever the matter all the time.
But even in this crisis the brave Courier achieved a triumph. He
telegraphed somebody (_I_ saw nobody) either naturally connected
with the hotel, or put en rapport with the establishment for that
occasion only. The telegraph was answered, and in half an hour or
less, there came a loud shout from the guard-house. The captain
was wanted. Everybody helped the captain into his boat. Everybody
got his luggage, and said we were going. The captain rowed away,
and disappeared behind a little jutting corner of the Galley-
slaves' Prison: and presently came back with something, very
sulkily. The brave Courier met him at the side, and received the
something as its rightful owner.
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