Before the white sea mists had rolled away I was on deck, and had

summoned a general conference of my crew.

"'Polyte," I demanded of our pilot, "how long before your partner will

be at the lighthouse, below, there?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe thees day sometam."

"And how long before he'll start back with the mail?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe thees same day sometam."

"And how long will it take him to get back to some post-office with

those letters?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe those nex' day sometam."

"And then how long to the big railroad to New Orleans?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe those nex' day too h'also sometam, heem."

"Then it will be three days, four days, before a letter could get from

the lighthouse to New Orleans?"

"'Ow long?"

"Three or four days?"

"Oui, maybe so."

"And how long will it take us to get in to the plantation of Monsieur

Edouard, above, there?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"H'I'll could not said, Monsieur. Maybe three four day--'sais pas."

"Holy Mackinaw!" I remarked, sotto voce.

"Pardon?" remarked 'Polyte respectfully. "Le

Machinaw--que-est-que-ce-que-est, ca?"

"It is my patron saint, 'Polyte," I explained, and he crossed himself

for his mistake.

"Suppose those h'engine he'll h'ron, we'll get in four five h'our

h'all right, on Monsieur Edouard, yass," he added. "H'I'll know those

channel lak some books."

By now Williams--who, judging by certain rappings, hammerings and

clankings heard through the cabin walls back and above the

engine-rooms, had been at work much of the night--had reported, and

much to my pleasure had said he thought we could make it in at least

to the Manning dock before further repairs would be needed. To prove

which, he went down and "turned her over a time or two," as he

expressed it. Whereupon I gave orders to break out the anchor, and

knowing that any Cajun market hunter and shrimp fisher like 'Polyte

can travel in any mist or fog before sunup by some instinct of his

own, I took a chance and began to feel our way out to the mouth of the

Manning channel before the morning mists were gone; so that we were at

breakfast by the time the wide and gently rippling bay broke clear

below us, and by magic, we saw the oak-crowned heights of the island

dead ahead.

Thence on, within the walls of the deep dredged channel, all we had to

do was to go sufficiently slow and follow the curves carefully, so

that the heavy waves of our boat, larger than any intended for that

channel, might not too much endanger the mud walls, or threaten

wreckage to the frail stagings leading to the cabins of the

half-aquatic trappers and fishers who dwell here in the marshes.

So, at last, after many windings and doublings, we came in at the rear

of the timbered slopes, and could see the mansion houses and the

offices of the stately old plantation, where dwelt my friend, Edouard

Manning, who knew nothing of my coming.




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