"Yes, M'sieu," came the answer. "Those supply is here."
"All right. Help him get the stuff aboard, Peterson."
They went about their work. Just as turning I saw standing at my
elbow, the slight form of L'Olonnois, his arms folded and hat drawn
upon his brow.
"Bid the varlets hasten," he hissed to me. "Time passes."
"Back to your post, L'Olonnois," I rejoined. "See that the captives
remain in their room."
Jean Lafitte, too, proved unable to restrain his curiosity, and this
time his habit of close observation was of benefit in an unexpected
way.
"Hist, Black Bart!" he whispered distinctly, clutching my arm. "What
boat is that?"
He pointed in the dim light to a low lying, battered power boat moored
in the same slip with us. Something in her look seemed familiar.
"I can't see her name," said Jean Lafitte, "but she looks a lot like
our own old boat."
I hastily stepped on the wharf and got a closer look in the wavering
beams of an arc light at the name on the boat's bows. There, in
indistinct and shaky, but unmistakable characters, was the title
painted by my young ruffians, weeks earlier--Sea Rover!
"Jean Lafitte," I whispered, "you are right, and now indeed we must
have a care. Yon varlet has beaten us into New Orleans."
"Let's board her and take her," hissed Jean Lafitte. "We can do it
easy."
"No, wait," said I. "Perhaps we can think of a better plan. Wait till
we get two drums of gasoline aboard. Then we'll make a run for it, if
yon varlet is here on the Sea Rover. Probably not, for every one
seems gone to bed."
"I'll find out," said Jean Lafitte boldly, and before I could stop him
was gone, springing lightly on the deck of the Sea Rover.
"Hello in there," he hailed. "Are you all asleep?"
A voice muttered something from the shallow cabin, I could not tell
what. "We got a barrel of rum for you from Thibodeau's," said Jean
Lafitte.
"No, you ain't. Must be some mistake," said a sleepy voice; and now a
tousled head appeared, indistinct in the gloom. "Anyhow, I don't know
anything about it, and it'll have to stay on the dock until morning.
I'm only the engineer, I come from Natchez. Mr. Davidson, he's
up-town."
"Oh, all right," said Jean Lafitte, apparently mollified, and soon was
at my side again. So then, we had the information we sought. I was
sure my own engineer, Williams, was busy as usual below, oiling and
polishing his double sixties.
"Hurry now," I whispered to Peterson. "Get that stuff aboard quick.
Don't forget the crates of fruit and vegetables."
We were nearly done with this work, when for a moment all seemed on
the point of going wrong with us. I heard shufflings and door
slammings from the after cabin. "Help! Help!" sounded the voice of
Aunt Lucinda, somewhat muffled. It chanced that my engineer, Williams,
at that moment poked his head up his ladder to get a breath of fresh
air.