"
Mr. Cooke dug his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. Here was a
complication he had not looked for. The Scimitar lay at anchor with her
sail down, and two men were coming ashore in the tender. Mr. Cooke's
attitude being that of a man who reconsiders a rash resolve, Mr. Trevor
was emboldened to say in a moderated tone:
"You were carried away by your generosity, Mr. Cooke. I was sure when
you took time to think you would see it in another light."
Mr. Cooke started off for the place where the boat had grounded. I did
not catch his reply, and probably should not have written it here if I
had. The senator looked as if he had been sand-bagged.
The two men jumped out of the boat and hauled it up. Mr. Cooke waved an
easy salute to one, whom I recognized as the big boatman from Asquith,
familiarly known as Captain Jay. He owned the Scimitar and several
smaller boats. The captain went through the pantomime of an introduction
between Mr. Cooke and the other, whom my client shook warmly by the hand,
and presently all three came towards us.
Mr. Cooke led them to a bar he had improvised by the brook. A pool
served the office of refrigerator, and Mr. Cooke had devised an ingenious
but complicated arrangement of strings and labels which enabled him to
extract any bottle or set of bottles without having to bare his arm and
pull out the lot. Farrar and I responded to the call he had given, and
went down to assist in the entertainment.
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