CHAPTER XXII.
THE ROBBERY OF THE "BELLONIC."
Our view of the distant shore of Ireland was a fleeting one; and we passed thence almost immediately to the open sea, steaming due S.W. for some hours, but at no great pace. It was not until daybreak on the following morning that we reached the track of ocean-bound ships; but our voyage was altogether in favour of Black, for the sun had scarce risen when Doctor Osbart got me from my bed to see what he called my first introduction to business.
"There's the Red Cross Line's Bellonic not a mile off on the starboard quarter," cried he exultingly, "and we're going to clear her. Come out, man, and get the finest breakfast you ever tasted."
I dressed anyhow, almost as excited as he was, and stepped on to the gallery, to see a rolling waste of dull-green breakers, and a sky washed with broken thunder-clouds, through which the risen sun was struggling. The wind was keen from the south, and drove a fine rain, which lashed the face as with a whip; while much spray broke upon us and there was moaning of the cowls and the
