"I have a friend with me," was the answer.

"And how many of the crew are there?"

"Sixteen, all told."

"English, I suppose?"

"Not all. I find French and Italians are more sober than English, and
better behaved in port."

I examined him critically as he sat facing me, and the mere fact of his
desire to send thanks to the authorities convinced me that he was a
well-bred gentleman. He was about forty-five, with a merry round,
good-natured face, red with the southern sun, blue eyes, and a short
fair beard. His countenance was essentially that of a man devoted to
open-air sport, for it was slightly furrowed and weather-beaten as a
true yachtsman's should be. His speech was refined and cultivated, and
as we chatted he gave me the impression that as an enthusiastic lover of
the sea, he had cruised the Mediterranean many times from Gibraltar up
to Smyrna. He had, however, never before put into Leghorn.

After we had arranged that his captain should come to me in the
afternoon and make a formal report of the accident, we went out together
across the white sunny piazza to Nasi's, the well-known pastry-cook's,
where it is the habit of the Livornese to take their ante-luncheon
vermouth.

The more I saw of Hornby, the more I liked him. He was chatty and witty,
and treated his accident as a huge joke.

"We shall be here quite a week, I suppose," he said as we were taking
our vermouth. "We're on our way down to the Greek Islands, as my friend
Chater wants to see them. The engineer says there's something strained
that we must get mended. But, by the way," he added, "why don't you dine
with us on board to-night? Do. We can give you a few English things that
may be a change to you."

This invitation I gladly accepted for two reasons. One was because the
suspicions of the Captain of the Port had aroused my curiosity, and the
other was because I had, honestly speaking, taken a great fancy to
Hornby.

The captain of the _Lola_, a short, thickset Scotsman from Dundee, with
a barely healed cicatrice across his left cheek, called at the Consulate
at two o'clock and made his report, which appeared to me to be a very
lame one. He struck me as being unworthy his certificate, for he was
evidently entirely out of his bearings when the accident occurred. The
owner and his friend Chater were in their berths asleep, when suddenly
he discovered that the vessel was making no headway. They had, in fact,
run upon the dangerous shoal wit