The Lady and the Pirate

"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.