There was a possibility of orders awaiting me at the hotel; and, although
it was not yet noon, I hailed a rig and drove there. The clerk passed
over the familiar yellow envelope, and my message read: "Proceed to
Hong-Kong for orders." I replied that I would leave at once, and the
message was gone before I discovered that there wasn't a steamer for
Hong-Kong before the end of the week, five days away.

It would have sounded silly to dispatch another message, telling of lack
of steamers. I had supposed a steamer sailed every day or two, and my
temper was ruffled at my mistake and the prospect of fretting away a week
in the heat of Manila.

A little item in the _Times_ gave me hope. It told of the steamer
_Kut Sang_ coming out of dry dock to sail for Hong-Kong that very
afternoon with general cargo. There was a bare chance that I might get
passage in her, for the paper referred to her as a former passenger boat,
and I was sure I could cajole the company into selling me a berth, or
bribe the captain into signing me as a member of the crew, with no duties
to perform, a common practice.

"This is Mr. Trenholm of the Amalgamated Press," I told the clerk in the
steamship office over the hotel's desk-telephone. "Simply must get to
Hong-Kong as soon as possible, and would like to go in the _Kut Sang_
this afternoon. May I buy passage in her?"

It was hard to make him understand, for he was a Filipino who insisted
on speaking English, although I had a working knowledge of Spanish. He
first mistook me for a stevedore, then for the manager, and next for the
Hong-Kong-Shanghai Bank. I stormed at him, irritated that I should have
to shout my business for the benefit of the loafers in the hotel office.