Mr. Cato found his path unexpectedly smooth. The Colonial Secretary,
delighted at shifting an awkward responsibility on to the shoulders
of a political opponent, telegraphed a gracious acceptance of Mr.
Cato’s offer to take charge of the Prince. The two thousand a year
was promised without bargaining, with another two thousand down for
initial expenses. The Colonial Court, it is true, had decided against
the Sooching claim, but leave was given to appeal; and Mr. Cato took a
lawyer and a packing-case full of evidence with him on board the P. &
O. in order to carry the question before the Privy Council.
He had taken up the clubs for Prince Dwala on purely unselfish
grounds, but he could not help feeling a personal satisfaction in
the results of what he had done. His whole tour had been a success;
now that he had seen the various kinds of native whom he had so long
championed in Parliament, the rightness of his attitude came home to
him with a picturesque forcibleness. He was like a dramatist who had
seen all his plays acted one after the other for the first time. And
now by this last lucky hit he had put himself over the heads of all
his rivals in his own peculiar line of politics. Prince Dwala’s case
would be famous; his colleagues would help him trounce the Government
for this wicked gold war; the credit of it would be his; every question
would come round to him for a final answer; the oppressed native would
be sitting at home in his drawing-room. As he lay awake in his bunk he
caught himself musing pleasurably over the social distinction which it
might involve. Nonsense! A Prince is no better than any other man, or
very little. Still, other people think so; it would be amusing to watch
their demeanour.
It was no light matter being in charge of a Prince on board ship. Mr.
Cato found it best during the daytime to keep him as much as possible
in his cabin, where he sat looking patiently out of a port-hole,
saying over new words and phrases he had heard, or making cigarettes
with the little machine which Mr. Cato carried about with him--a
contrivance which inspired him with far greater interest and awe
than the complications of the engine-room. It was the best cabin on
board, by-the-bye, for the Shanghai merchant had insisted on giving
it up to the Prince. It was not that Dwala claimed any outward signs
of respect--he was modesty itself; but his presence caused a certain
_gêne_ among the other passengers, who were uncertain whether to rise
from their seats or not when he entered the reading-room. Then he had
no idea of punctuality, and naturally nobody liked to begin dinner
until he came in. The sailors had no end of a job enticing him down
from the crosstrees, where he had ensconced himself at the sound of the
dinner-bell. Then again, the chief steward was nearly frightened out of
his wits, when he leaned over his shoulder to offer him potatoes, at
the way the Prince grabbed his plate and growled, under the impression
that he wanted to take it away from him. The passengers saw but little
of him till the last night of the voyage, when they insisted on his
presiding at the concert in aid of the Sailors’ Orphanage. They were
all immensely impressed by the grave attention with which he listened
to the comic songs.
Mr. Cato was very busy all day going through the evidence with the
lawyer; and half of every night he spent following the Prince in his
swift rambles over the ship, seeing that he did not get into mischief.
It was a relief when they landed at last in England.