CHAPTER I

THE CASTAWAYS


The second night north of the Zambezi, as well as the first, the
little tramp rescue steamer had run out many miles into the offing and
laid-to during the hours of darkness. The vicinity of the coral reefs
that fringe the southeast coast of Africa is decidedly undesirable on
moonless nights.

When the Right Honorable the Earl of Avondale came out of his close,
hot stateroom into the refreshing coolness that preceded the dawn, the
position of the Southern Cross, scintillating in the blue-black sky to
port, told him that the steamer was headed in for the coast. The black
surface of the quiet sea crinkled with lines of phosphorescent light
under the ruffling of the faint breeze, which crept offshore heavy
with the stench of rotting vegetation. It was evident that the ship
was already close in again to the Mozambique swamps.

Lord James sniffed the rank odor, and hastened to make his way forward
to the bridge. As he neared the foot of the ladder, his resilient step
and the snowy whiteness of his linen suit attracted the attention of
the watcher above on the bridge.

"Good-morning, m' lord," the officer called down in a bluff but
respectful tone. "You're on deck early."

"Hullo, Meggs! That you?" replied his lordship, mounting the steps
with youthful agility. "It seems you're still earlier."