Anthony had a feeling that the one-eyed man had taken the road toward
Wilmington; so he put the sorrels to their best, and the miles spun
behind them. The man ahead had no such horses, and Anthony felt he'd
bring up with him before the next few hours went by. His first halt was
at a decent-looking tavern on the verge of Wilmington. While giving his
horses time to blow, he ate a little food and talked with the landlord.
"It's early for travel at this time of year," said he, as he munched
the boiled beef and the good white bread. "I suppose I'm the first of
the morning."
"Oh, no," said the host, an honest, stout man, who looked as though his
judgment of ale was of the best; "there have been several passed before
you."
"None you knew, however," said Anthony.
"I knew them all," said the stout tavern-keeper. "There was old
Ned Dance with his bags of meal from the miller's, and Simon, the
cabinet-maker's man, from Chadd's Ford; and then there was the master
of the French ship--"
"What French ship?" asked Anthony.
"She that lies a few miles below; an armed ship she is, too, perhaps a
letter-of-marque, but with only a few men aboard of her."
"What appearing man is her master," asked Anthony with interest.
"Not a Frenchman, though you'd expect him to be. He's American, right
enough, and one that I'm not fond of because of a kind of slithering
laugh he's got. And he wears a patch over one of his eyes."
Anthony smiled and seemed to enjoy the bread and beef much more than
before.
"So that's who my gentleman is!" he said to himself. "And with an
ice-locked ship." Then he said aloud, "I suppose he was on his way to
his vessel when he went by?"
"Where else?" asked the host. "He never goes further south than that;
and no further north than the Brig Tavern, which is off the road, some
miles from here."
"I have heard that is an excellent place of entertainment," said
Anthony.
"It was for many years," said the host, with a nod of the head, "and,
as far as food and drink and such-like go, is so still. But," and here
the nod turned to a shake, "in other ways it seems different now. I've
heard ill reports of it."
"It's a place for shipmen to stop, I've been told," said Anthony. "If
that is so, there cannot be a great deal wrong with it."
"There are shipmen and shipmen," said the stout tavern-keeper. "Some
are honest and give their minds to bringing their ships home, all snug
and trim, and carrying profitable merchandise; others again have never
sailed an honest voyage and never stowed an item of cargo that was
properly come by."
"Pirates," smiled Anthony. "But there are none such in these waters."
"Where there is gain to be had there will your villains gather," said
the host. "There is a rich city up the river, and in that city there
are many crafty rascals."
"I'll not deny that," said Anthony. "But cunning roguery and open
plunder are different things; many a man would venture one who would
fear the other."
"Things have altered since my grandfather's day," said the host. "Then
there was Kyd and Teach and Avery, sailing into the bay when ever
it pleased them, trafficking with the merchants, being friends of
governors, having in their ships' companies those who were members
of state assemblies, walking the streets of towns, with their heads
up brazenly, and known to every man and woman who met them. To-day,
of course, things are different," added the man. "They are quite
different."
"And better?" said Anthony, and there was an expectant look in his eye.
"As to that I'll not say," answered the tavern-keeper. "For I'm not
sure. We have our own officials now, if that's any gain for us. But men
are the same as they've always been; they crave money still and will
use dark practices and outlawed ways to get it. There's many a fine
ship that passes out beyond these capes that's never heard of again."
"Storms blow at sea as they've always done," said Anthony.
"True; and the knowledge of that is what keeps people's minds from
other things; they place all to the discredit of wind and wave. But,
sir, there are ships still at sea that can't show papers; even now
there are lonely headlands and reefs and sandspits that could harbor
bands of ruffians. And more than that: there are merchants and traders
and agents--the rascals of whom I just now spoke--who can market loot
and communicate intelligence."
"Is it your thought," asked Anthony, "that the Brig Tavern is being
used as a means of furthering some such traffic as this?"
The man shook his head.
"I could not go before the authorities and so swear," said he. "But odd
things are said of the place; it seems much used just now by those who
are forwardest with their talk of arming American ships and sending
them out under the French flag against the British."
"I've heard whispers of that purpose, but nothing to give attention
to," said Anthony.
"This war in Europe will give excuse to many a rascally thing in our
waters before we are done with it," warned the landlord. "Mark you
that."
Anthony finished his bread and beef, and drank the mug of ale which had
been brought to him; and, after some further talk with the landlord,
he paid his score, took to his sleigh once more, and in the course of
some few hours was in New Castle. He gave no more thought to the man
with the patch over his eye; he now knew where to find him and would
attend to him later on. The _General Stark_ was pointed out to him as
she lay ice-locked about a hundred or more yards from the shore; and
he lost no time in getting aboard of her. He talked with the second
mate and spent that night in the ship. Next day he went briskly to work
collecting sledges for the work in hand; messengers ran roads, notices
were posted at stores and taverns, and by the third morning upward of
a hundred stout teams were drawn up on the river-bank, ready to carry
through the project. The hatches were off the _General Stark_, and the
merchandise was hoisted cheerily out of her; spans of horses did the
hauling at the tackle; the sledges were brought to the ship-side and
received the cargo as it was swung out of the hold. By night all the
valuable parts of the vessel's cargo were transferred; and by dawn next
day the caravan, one sledge behind the other, started up the river
road. Corkery had rejoined the ship by this; and he stood on deck, his
elbows on the rails, watching the long file of laden vehicles as they
plodded onward.
"That is the kind of enterprise this river knows little of," said he.
"You'll make a stir when that merchandise gets to the market, Mr.
Stevens; they'll open their eyes."
The gray of early morning was upon the leaden river, with its ridges
of dirty snow and its dispirited, helpless ships. Anthony's eyes were
fixed upon a schooner about a mile away, from the galley of which smoke
was arising.
"That, I think, is a French armed vessel of which I have heard," said
he.
"She is French, and she is armed," answered Corkery.
"I have a trifle of business aboard of her," said Anthony.
The deck was littered with broken bits of timber, thrown down in the
hurried work of hoisting the cargo; and from this Anthony selected a
stout cudgel. He threw it over the ship's side; then, without another
word to Corkery, he slid down a rope, put the cudgel under his arm,
and, with hands thrust deeply into his pockets, set off across the ice
to the other ship.
As he reached its side a voice called in French.
"Well, my early morning friend, what is your wish?"
Anthony looked up. A small man, dark of skin, and in a red mob-cap,
leaned over the rail amidships and eyed him with disapproval.
[Illustration: "A SMALL MAN ... LEANED OVER THE RAIL AMIDSHIPS, AND
EYED HIM WITH DISAPPROVAL."]
"To come aboard," said Anthony.
There were some steps let down from the schooner's side, and he
quietly climbed them. The small man met him at the rail and put out a
protesting hand.
"It is forbidden!" said he. "This is the French republican ship _Le
Mousquet_, and not a merchantman."
Anthony put the hand aside.
"I desire to see the captain," he said.
"The citizen captain is at breakfast in his cabin," said the small man.
"He will see no one."
But Anthony was knocking at the cabin-door in another moment.
"Enter," said a voice. Anthony went in, and there he found the man with
the patch over his eye engaged in pouring chocolate from a pot into
a silver cup. Surprised, the man put down the pot; then he smirked at
Anthony, collected enough, and said:
"Ah! so it is you! I have heard news of you and your ship. You are a
man of purpose, sir. Allow me to congratulate you."
"Citizen," said the small man, putting his head in at the cabin, "it
was against my directions that you are intruded upon."
"It is no matter," said the captain. "The gentleman will be going in
another moment." He took up the silver cup and sipped the chocolate.
"To what, sir, do I owe this visit?"
Anthony kicked aside the little table which sat before the one-eyed
man, and the things it held crashed to the floor. Alertly the small man
seized him.
"My friend," said Anthony tolerantly. "I have no business with you, and
less desire to do you harm. So go outside like a decent fellow."
He threw the little man from the cabin, and shut and locked the door;
and as he turned about he saw the schooner's master taking a pistol
from the cupboard. The pistol exploded as the cudgel struck it; and
the bullet tore through the housing. Then Anthony gathered the man's
neck-cloth in his grip and beat him until his knees grew limp and the
blood ran from him; then he dropped him upon the floor and went upon
the deck. The small man was there; and with him were the black ship's
cook and a boy who had round, surprised eyes and held a cutlass as
probably one had never been held before. Anthony smiled as he looked at
them.
"Citizens of the republican ship _Le Mousquet_," said he, "I have every
sympathy with your cause and great respect for your vessel. But your
captain had earned a beating at my hands, and has received it. You'll
find him inside there, looking a deal worse than he actually is. A
little water thrown upon him will be all he'll need; but you'd do well
to get that at once. And so: good day to you!"
Then he went down the steps at the schooner's side and trudged away
toward the spot on the river-bank where he could see his sleigh
awaiting him.
The journey up to the city was much slower than the one down. The
heavily laden sledges, some of them drawn by oxen, kept constantly
moving, but their day's accomplishment was not great. And, then, the
men of the caravan must be provided for, the cattle must be fed,
watered, and rested, and a guard must be kept all night through. In
these things Anthony's experience with pack-trains in the deserts and
mountains served him well; and the morning of the fifth day saw the
sledges drawn up at the door of the warehouses and a score of porters
busy carrying and trundling the merchandise within.
"Well," said Charles when Anthony finally came into the counting-room,
"here you are, and there is your work very well done, my boy: I'm proud
of you."
Anthony slept soundly that night and until noon next day. When he
reached the counting-room once more, he found it bustling actively.
"There's been more real buying and selling in an hour to-day than there
has been in the last month," said Whitaker, rubbing his hands, much
pleased. "Captain Weir has been at the City Tavern since morning, and
you never saw such a stirring as he has around him. The news of the
cargo has spread about like a breeze; every one knows of it and seems
to want hides and drugs and coffee."
That evening, as Anthony was examining some tally-sheets which
Twitchell had given him, word came that Charles desired to see him
before he left. A few minutes later Anthony went into his uncle's room;
Charles sat in the corner of his small sofa which was drawn up to the
fire, nursing his lame foot and watching the flames as they licked at
the hickory logs. He bade Anthony sit down, which the young man did.
"What you've just done," said Charles, "shows me you are of the
outdoor breed, and one who can bring off victory in the face of stern
conditions. As I said to Weir a while ago, a man like you would be
wasted in a counting-room; and I'd not like to see that. In a month,"
and he looked at Anthony speculatively, "the ice will be out of the bay
and the _General Stark_ can put to sea. A cargo will be awaiting her at
New York for Havana; at Havana there'll be tobacco and rum and sugar
for Liverpool; and at Liverpool there'll be ironmongery, woolens, and
piece-goods for the East."
"Well?" said Anthony.
"Word has come that the _Stark's_ captain is dead," said Charles.
"I saw him twice while at New Castle," said Anthony, shocked; "and they
thought him improved."
"He was a steady, good seaman," said Charles, "and we shall miss him
much;" and then, the speculative look still in his eye, "Would you care
to take the ship and sail in his place?"
"No," said Anthony.
"Don't be hasty," said Charles. "Let your mind work with the thought a
little. Think."
"I have no need to think," said Anthony. "I stay in this counting-room
until I've mastered its history."
"You surprise me," said Charles; "for I felt sure the blood of your
grandfather would speak there."
"Perhaps it has," said Anthony quietly.
"Weir said you wouldn't take the ship; indeed, he said you shouldn't."
Charles laughed and nodded his head. "I never saw the captain agree
with any one as he does with you. He seems to be always of your mind
exactly. Whatever you think best, he consents to at once."
And Anthony, as he listened to this, felt a stirring of unrest in his
mind; it was a vague thing, yet it left him questioning, and, somehow,
insecure.