"What's that?" he demanded of me as I passed. "I thought I heard some
one calling."
"Oh, you did, Williams," said I. "It was Mrs. Daniver. She suffers
much with neuralgia and is in great pain. I shouldn't wonder if I
should have to go up-town and get a physician for her even yet. But,
Williams, in any case we'll be sailing soon, and I want you to
overhaul the screen of the intake pipe for that port boiler. We're
getting into very sandy waters, and of course you don't want anything
to happen to your engines. Can you attend to that at once?"
"Surely, sir," said he, and went below again. I closed the hatch on
him. Meantime I hurried aft, to see what could be done toward quelling
any possible uproar. My blue-eyed lieutenant, L'Olonnois, had been as
efficient in his way as Jean Lafitte. Now, in full character, he was
enjoying himself immensely. When I saw him, he was standing with his
feet spread wide apart in the center of the cabin floor, with drawn
sword in his hand.
"Lady," said he, addressing himself to Aunt Lucinda, "it irks me as a
gentleman to be rude with one so fair, but let me hear one more word
from you, and your life's blood shall dye the deck, and you shall walk
the plank at the morning sun. You deal with L'Olonnois, who knows no
fear!"
Deep silence, broken presently by a little laugh; and I heard Helena's
voice in remonstrance. "Don't be so silly, Jimmie!"
"Silly, indeed," boomed the deep voice of Aunt Lucinda, catching sight
of me at the door. "Yonder is the villain who put him up to this."
"Oh, is that you?" said Helena, coming toward me. "Where are we,
Harry?"
"In the port of New Orleans, Miss Helena," was my answer, "a city of
some three hundred thousand souls, noted for its manufacture of sugar,
and its large shipments abroad of the staple cotton."
"May I come on deck?" she queried after a while.
"We are alongside the levee, and there is little to see. We shall be
sailing now in a few moments."
"But mayn't I come up and see New Orleans, even for a minute as we
pass by? I'll be good."
"You may come up under parole," said I, throwing open the door. "But
you must bring your aunt's parole also. You must give no alarm, for we
have every reason here for silence."
She turned back and held some converse with Auntie Lucinda, and by
what spell I know not, won the promise of the latter to remain silent
and make no attempt at escape. A little later she was at my side in
the dim light cast by a flickering and distant arc light at the
street.