Dunningham, smiling and imperturbable as ever, raised his hand and said,
"No, gentlemen, Mr. Pulitzer has changed his mind; we are not going to
America. We remain on the yacht and sail this afternoon for Athens."
He disappeared over the side, and an hour or two later returned with the
chef and the butler and one of the saloon stewards, who had gone aboard
the liner to make things ready, and some tons of baggage.
We sailed just as the White Star boat cleared the end of the mole. When
she passed us, within a hundred yards, she dipped her flag. I was
walking with Mr. Pulitzer at the time and mentioned the exchange of
salutes. He was silent for a few minutes. Then he asked, "Has she passed
us?" "Yes," I replied, "she's half-a-mile ahead of us now." "Have you
got your pad with you? Just make a note to ask Thwaites to cable to New
York from the next port we call at and tell someone to send two hundred
of the best Havana cigars to the captain. That man has some sense. Most
captains would have blown their damned whistle when they dipped their
flag. Have a note written to the captain telling him that I appreciated
his consideration."
Our voyage to Athens and thence, through the Corinth Canal, back to
Mentone, was free from incident.
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