Nobody even looked at me. The deck was in half-darkness, and at last I went up to several of the officers and inquired as to the whereabouts of my cabin. Something unintelligible was growled at me, but when the gentlemen looked more closely at my ticket a sudden change took place. Bowings and scrapings and fluent excuses. A blast from the whistle of an officer, and several stewards appeared as by magic, headed by the white head-steward. The deck-lamps gleamed. The stewards fought over the possession of my trunk, and the head-steward conducted me with _empressement_ to my state-room. He simply exuded politeness. “Oh, Mr. MacGarvin, why do you come to-day? The steamer only leaves the day after to-morrow, and it was known all over Shanghai at midday!” I looked furious, and expressed my indignation that the owner of a state-cabin should not have been warned in time. He was followed by my fat Chinese cabin-steward, who was repose and distinction personified. But he put me into a fix. One of his “boys” was ordered to bring my trunk, whereupon he asked me, in doubting tones, whether this represented all my luggage. “Yes,” I said. He supposed my other trunks were in the hold. “Of course. My heavy luggage was brought on board yesterday, and I hope that my valuable belongings were carefully handled.” Oh, if the good Chink had guessed how proud I was of that _one_ trunk, even though it was suspiciously light! At last, on the 5th of December 1914, the steamer _Mongolia_ weighed anchor. In spite of the lovely weather and good food, on the very next day Mr. MacGarvin was suddenly taken ill. He himself did know what it was. Probably severe ptomaine poisoning, and the ship’s doctor was quickly sent for. He was a brilliant man, a thorough sportsman and ready for any joke. His concerned face took on an astonished expression when, instead of a patient at death’s door, he beheld my florid and sunburnt countenance. I had confidence in him, and in a few words I explained my situation. I have seldom seen anyone’s eyes gleam with such pleasure as his did after I had confessed my sins to him. His uproarious laugh and warm handshake convinced me that I had chanced on the right man. The steward knocked at the door. The ship’s surgeon assumed an anxious mien, whilst I groaned. The steward flitted in, and the American said to him in hushed, impressive tones: “Look here, Boy! This Master plenty ill, don’t disturb him, can’t get up before ten days; give him plenty good food, chosen by cook; always bring to him in bed. If Master want anything, you call me!” During this speech I already held one end of the blanket in my mouth, and if it had lasted longer I would have swallowed the whole. Once more I took the centre of the stage.