With no more than these slight precautions which I have indicated, we
lay all that afternoon in plain view of the world; and because all the
world could not suspect us of such hardihood, all the world went by
without suspecting that the stolen Belle Helène and her ruthless
pirate crew were there in full sight and apparently inviting or
defying apprehension. Sometimes a passing craft would salute us as we
lay, and we returned the courtesy without fail. I know not whether
more bottles were cast overboard by Aunt Lucinda, but if so, we heard
of none. At last, after what seemed days to me, though no more than
hours, the shade of twilight fell across the river, the outlines of
the passing boats grew less distinct. Now and again we could hear the
wail of railway whistle, or see the curved snake of the lighted train
dashing across the alluvial lands toward the ferry. Here and there,
beyond, pin points of red lights shone. At last the night fell full,
and, gladly enough, I gave the order for the continuance of our
journey.
We slipped down-stream gently and silently, yet speedily withal,
seeking to time our arrival, as nearly as we might, to the hour
assigned for the delivery of our supplies at the dock.
"I'm none too easy in my mind," said my old skipper to me, as we stood
together forward.
"Why not, Peterson?"
"It's them two boys," said he. "You talk of pirates--there's the
bloodiest pair of pirates as ever was. I hardly know whether my own
life's safe or not, to hear them talk."
"Never do you mind, Peterson," said I. "Those boys may be useful to us
yet. The one with blue eyes has proved himself able to keep the ladies
in their cabin, and as for the one who was going to run you through
when we took the boat, he still may have to work to keep Williams down
in the engine-room when we make our landing."
"It may come out all right," said the old man gloomily, "but sometimes
I fear for the worst."
"You always do, Peterson, and that is no frame of mind for a healthy
pirate. But here we are below the railway warehouse district, and I
think nearly opposite slip K, where we land. Port your helm, and run
in slow. We've got to have gasoline, although I must say my two
bullies took aboard quite a store up there at the Bayou."
"Port it is, sir," said Peterson gloomily, still smoking. And he made
as neat a landing as ever in his life.
A shadowy form arose amidst the blackness of the dock and came
directly forward to take our line.
"Who's that?" I demanded. "Are you from Lavallier and Thibodeau?"