A short walk brought them to the hotel, and they were assigned a room. As soon as the baggage had been brought in, they locked the door. “Now what am I to do?” asked Gregory. “I am sure to be bagged if I stay here. As soon as I am missed, O’Hara will be after me with a sharp stick; or, more likely, he will send that bear of a Prince Frisbone to look me up.” “You mustn’t stay in the town an hour!” exclaimed his lordship. “Have you any money to pay your expenses?” “I have plenty of sovereigns,” answered Gregory. “Those are the best money to have anywhere on Portuguese territory. Find a horse, and ride till you come to some town or village; and don’t let the grass grow under your feet.” A couple of ponies were soon found, and a guide was engaged who spoke English. Thus prepared, Gregory hastened off. Lord Fillgrove returned to the mole, where he obtained a boat, and was pulled off to the ship. He had picked up a porter on his way, and had already given a liberal fee to both him and the boatman. He saw that the captain’s boat was still lying at the mole; but he gave it a wide berth this time, for he had no “blackguards of custom-house officers” to bother him. His lordship had brought back the mackintosh and other clothing of his fellow-passenger. Sir Philip put them on. He had Clinch in the smoking-room with him, and in a few moments the porter and the mutineer had exchanged garments. Sir Philip brought a carpet-bag he had left in his state-room, and Clinch was required to carry it to the gangway. For some reason or other, Speers was on the poop-deck. CHAPTER XXIV. A HASTY RUN TO THE CAPE VERDS. Possibly Tom Speers had finished his difficult problem in navigation, and was making his rounds of the deck of the ship; or possibly the coming of the shore-boat had been reported to him by the lookout, and he wished to assure himself that every thing about the steamer was all right: at any rate, the officer of the deck was there, just where the sprigs did not wish him to be. “Ah, Sir Philip, I thought you had gone on shore some time ago,” said Tom, as blandly as though there was no mischief in him. “So I did go on shore, Mr. Speers; but I forgot this bloody carpet-bag, and I came back after it,” replied the baronet, pointing to the piece of baggage in the hand of the assumed porter. Speers looked at the bag, and then into the face of the porter, though Clinch turned away, and tried to avoid his gaze. “Really, Mr. Clinch, I don’t think you look so well in that dress as you do in your regular uniform,” said Speers, with a pleasant smile. At the same time he placed himself between the intended fugitive and the gangway. He looked as mild as one of the chaplain’s lambs; and the Britons evidently did not regard his opposition as very serious. “I will thank you to step out of the way, Mr. Speers, and allow his lordship and myself to get into the boat,” said Sir Philip, rather brusquely.