“Very well, Captain Risk, but who are ‘we’ of whom you speak? You realize that you are simply a sea-faring man, and very likely to turn up in Davy Jones’ locker; if, by any possible mishap, this messenger, Pierre La Fitte, be intercepted, and any suspicions aroused by any papers found, I could be compromised at once, and I would have no guarantee of fair treatment. I must deal with your principal, whoever he is.”
“Well said, General Arnold, you must be secured and protected. Remain here and you will have this business all settled within an hour, and you may have protection or whatever else you want for that matter. Good day, sir,” was the snappy answer of the little skipper, as he read the whole import of Arnold’s fears, when he suddenly departed to let him wonder what was to happen next.
When the skipper gained the outside, he explained the situation to himself, as he reasoned it out.
“Ah, he’s a shark! At first he wanted to know nothing of the transaction, now he wants to know all. But, howsomever, that Barclugh knows his business and now that I have hooked the fish, Barclugh will land him, shark and all that he is.”
When the door shut behind Captain Risk, and Arnold had found himself addressed, explained, and answered all in one jerk, so to speak, he drew a long breath and said to himself:
“Whew! what’s up now? What must these people believe me to be? There must be money where Risk does his business. Those privateersmen are the only ones who are getting rich in Philadelphia to-day. There’s Robert FitzMaurice, Financier General of Congress, his warehouses are full of captured merchandise and I know that he would sell flour to anybody, even indirectly to the enemy, if he could thereby show a good balance on his ledger account. Philadelphia, in traffic with the enemy, is rotten. I must now know where it is going on, and who is at it. Maybe, I was too eager with Captain Risk. He’s gone without leaving a clue. I guess my chance is up. When I actually must have money, what a fool I was to ask for his principal in the matter. I might have known that Risk would not have divulged his principal. But I wonder why they sent Risk to me for a passport, anyway? This business has been done before and they did not need a passport. For some reason they need me. Therein lies my chance, and by thunder, Mrs. Arnold will be rich yet, even though I used to be a New England horse-trader.”
While Arnold had fears and hopes of his success in mind, Barclugh had listened to Arnold’s request as given by Captain Risk and after the concise narrative, Barclugh simply said:
“Captain, you have done your duty. Leave the rest to me. Load your ship, and sail with the flour to the appointed rendezvous at the entrance of Sag Harbor.”
“That’s well, Mr. Barclugh. I’m better at running a blockade or overhauling a lime-juicer than in handling a horse-trading shark,” was the blurting opinion of the Yankee skipper, as he tripped out of the compting-room of Roderick Barclugh,—little knowing that he had played the preliminary part in a nation’s drama.
The time was momentous on Arnold’s hands as he pulled at his hair to think that he had lost his opportunity with Captain Risk, when the door of the office opened, and there stood Roderick Barclugh.