Then I returned to the purser, and put on a calm exterior, though I felt inside as explosive as an overcharged soda-fountain.
“Will you be so kind,” I said, “as to give me the address of the managing director of this company?”
“I have occasion to write him a letter on business of the company.”
“A mere trifle. Never mind what it is. It will interest him, and be beneficial to the company.”
“The name of the managing director is ----------”
“Please write it on the back of this card,” and I gave him my personal card, on which to inscribe the name. { 184}The purser turned red, pale, blue, green, yellow, pink, crimson, ultra-marine, and scarlet; he could have sold his face at a high price just then to a maker of kaleidoscopes. He began writing, stopped, began again, and altogether was at least two minutes in writing the name and postal direction.
When he had finished I took the card, stowed it away in my pocket, and retired to the deck, where I proceeded to solace myself with a cigar and a study of the receding shores.
Two minutes after I reached the deck, I saw the purser and captain in deep consultation near the wheel-house. Two minutes later the purser, cap in hand, came to me, and said to me that one of the reserved rooms had not been claimed, and was at my disposal. Would I condescend to look at it?
I condescended, and descended to the cabin. The room was comfortable, and all my fancy had painted it. I was mollified, thanked the purser for his politeness, ordered the steward to! bring my baggage, and was speedily installed in the apartment. The purser could not have been more civil to the governor of the Fejee Islands than he was to me during the rest of the voyage.
We steamed out of the harbor of Constantinople towards the Sea of Marmora.
First vanished the shipping in the Golden Horn, and the never-ceasing stream of people crossing the bridge of boats. Then the irregular terraces of many-colored houses in Fera and { 185}Golata were lost to sight, though to memory dear; and then our eyes lingered on Stamboul with its mosque-crowned hills, and the Seraglio palace with its surroundings of groves jutting into the widening mouth of the Bosphorus. The sunlight played on the roofs, and domes, and minarets of Stamboul, and brightened the hills that formed the back-ground of the picture.