Really, I began to feel sorry for the poor fellow.
“But,” said I, “I cannot possibly take you. We sail this afternoon and the hatches are all closed and battened down for the voyage.”
“I do not wish the machine put in the hold,” he answered, with strange eagerness. “All I ask is a spot in which to place it on the deck--anywhere that will be out of your way. I will make it secure, myself, and take every care of it, so that it will cause you no trouble at all.”
“I’m afraid you could not get it to the ship in time.”
“It is already loaded upon a flat-boat, which will take it to the _Gladys H._ in an hour, once I have your permission.”
“You seem to have considered your request granted in advance,” I remarked, with some asperity.
“Not that, sir; I am not impertinent, believe me. But I enquired about Captain Steele and was told that he is a good man and kind. So, that I might lose no time if I obtained your consent, I had the machine loaded on the flat-boat.”
Mr. Harlan laughed outright. Acting upon a sudden impulse I turned to him and said:
“May I decide as I please in this matter?”
“Of course, Sam,” he replied. “It is your affair, not mine.”
I looked at the stranger again. He was actually trembling with anxious uncertainty.
“Very well,” I announced, “I will take you.”
“No; I’ll carry you for nothing. You may need that extra money at your journey’s end.”
He took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow, upon which beads of perspiration were standing.
“But I must warn you of one thing. The bark is not in what we call A-1 condition. If she happens to go to the bottom instead of San Pedro I won’t be responsible for your precious machine.”
“Very well, sir. I will take as many chances as you do.”
“By ancestry, Captain. American by birth.”
“All right; make haste and get your traps aboard as soon as possible.”
He put on his cap and walked hurriedly away, and when he had gone both Mr. Harlan and my father rallied me on account of my queer “passenger.”
“He looks to me like a crank, Sam,” said the agent. “But it’s your fireworks, not mine.”
“Whatever induced you to take him?” Captain Steele enquired, wonderingly.
“The bare fact that he was so anxious to go,” I replied. “He may be a crank on the automobile question, and certainly it is laughable to think of shipping a machine to Los Angeles on a freighter, around the Horn; but the poor fellow seemed to be a gentleman, and he’s hard up. It appeared to me no more than a Christian act to help him out of his trouble.”