40 TRAFFICS AND DISCOVERIES
writing one page of lyric prose — to the eloquent, the joyful, the impassioned end ; and my first notion was that I had been cheated. In this sort of book-collecting you will see how entirely the bibliophile lies at the mercy of his agent.
'M. de C.,' I read, opened his campaign by
stowing away in one of her boats what time H.M.S. Archimandrite lay off Funchal. 'M. de C.' was, always on behalf of his country, a Madeira Portuguese fleeing from the conscription. They discovered him eighty miles at sea and bade him assist the cook. So far this seemed fairly reason- able. Next day, thanks to his histrionic powers and his ingratiating address, he was promoted to the rank of 'supernumerary captain's servant' — a ' post which,' I give his words, ' I flatter myself, was created for me alone, and furnished me with opportunities unequalled for a task in which one word malapropos would have been my destruction.'
From this point onward, earth and water be-
tween them held no marvels like to those 'M. de C.' had 'envisaged' — if I translate him correctly. It became clear to me that 'M. de C.' was either a pyramidal liar, or . . .
I was not acquainted with any officer, seaman,
or marine in the Archimandrite ; but instinct told me I could not go far wrong if I took a third- class ticket to Plymouth.
I gathered information on the way from a
leading stoker, two seaman-gunners, and an odd hand in a torpedo factory. They courteously set my feet on the right path, and that led me through
