“This is very elegant yacht,” he said to Captain Bodgers as the garments were laid before him. The captain, always a silent man, made no reply. “That is most marvellous creature, the thing that flies in the air,” the Jew continued; “I have never seen anything like it. It is without doubt a new sport—the English love sport. They spend much money in sport. And where is the yacht bound for, good captain?” “Goin’ a cruise,” said the captain shortly. “Without doubt. And perhaps the kind governor will permit to call at a port—at Rabat, say; for I am not a man of the sea, and I have business there.” “Better ask him.” “I will do so. I will say also how I fill myself with wonder of the thing that flies. I myself am a sport!” Salathiel not merely expressed his wonderment to Mr. Greatorex, but displayed a very active curiosity as to the construction of the machine and the choice of those waters for the practice of the new sport. Mr. Greatorex gave him no satisfaction, and was indeed somewhat curt in his replies to the man’s leading questions; but Salathiel smiled at each rebuff, thereby confirming Mr. Greatorex’s conviction that he was a rascal. The yacht lay to for several hours, getting under way again in the afternoon. It was very hot; everybody was more or less sleepy, and Tom thought it a good time to sound the Moor as to his willingness to assist in the expedition. They had a long conversation in the cabin, the result of which was entirely satisfactory to Tom. Abdul’s one object in life was to wreak vengeance on the sheikh for the wrongs his family had suffered, and it was to be a thorough vengeance. He would not be satisfied merely with the death of his enemy; that might have been achieved already. But he was determined to ruin the sheikh’s family, just as his own had been ruined. He had hoped to save enough money in course of time to gather about him a band of trusty Riffians who would raid the oppressor’s stronghold. The loss of the vessel had swept away the savings of five years; but he was resolved to begin again and even if fifty years were to pass before he was in a position to accomplish his aim, he would never relinquish it. The sheikh himself might die before then; in that case the weight of the avenging hand would fall on his descendants. When Tom reported to Mr. Greatorex the result of this conversation the worthy merchant was shocked. “Terrible, terrible!” he said. “Most unchristian! The Moors are no better than _heathen_, Tom.” “Well, we don’t know what it’s like. I don’t think you would be very sweetly disposed towards any one who had served you as he has been served.” “Me! I’d bring an _action_ against the villain, you may be sure of that.” “I don’t suppose they have actions at law in Morocco. But it’s quite clear that he will be willing to help us.” “True. I’ll go down with you, and we’ll come to an understanding with him.”