Mr. Effingham declared, with a grateful heart, that in no park,
or garden, had he ever before met with a promenade that seemed so
delightful as this spot of naked and moistened sand, on the sterile coast
of the Great Desert. Its charm was its security, for its distance from
every point that could be approached by the Arabs, rendered it, in their
eyes, a paradise.
Paul Powis, however, though he maintained a cheerful air, and the
knowledge that he had been so instrumental in saving the party lightened
his heart of a load, and disposed him even to gaiety, was not without some
lingering remains of uneasiness. He remembered the boats of the Dane, and,
as he thought it more than probable Captain Truck had fallen into the
hands of the barbarians, he feared that the latter might yet find the
means to lay hands on themselves. While he was at work fitting the
rigging, and preparing a jigger, with a view to render the launch more
manageable, he cast frequent uneasy glances to the northward, with a
feverish apprehension that one of the so-long-wished-for boats might at
length appear. Their friends he no longer expected, but his fears were all
directed towards the premature arrival of enemies from that quarter. None
appeared, however, and Saunders actually lighted a fire on the bank, and
prepared the grateful refreshment of tea for the whole party; none of
which had tasted food since morning, though it was now drawing near night.
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