Arrived at Nassua, the party proceeded to the King Edward House, where Pauline found a telegram from Philip Carpenter, the lawyer, advising her to return as soon as possible to attend the signing of certain important papers. On account of the message all hands made haste to hunt for a small steamer or launch to complete the trip.
Though none of the four saw him, the old man was at the hotel. He lost no time in assuming another and very different disguise, observing to himself that the most valuable part of his college education might prove to be the secrets of "make up" he had learned in his college dramatic club.
Owen, with his usual forethought, had arranged in advance to be put in touch at once with all available boats. As a result a gasoline launch, with a cabin and stateroom, about 100 feet long, which had once been a yacht, was chartered. The "pirate's" stipulation that no stranger should see his island made it necessary for Pauline to deposit a check for $2,500 for its safe return.
The next morning provisions were brought aboard, the "pirate" declaring that he could run the engine, and all was ready when a difficulty arose. Who was to cook? Pauline volunteered, but Owen objected, and finally the "pirate's" objections to a stranger were overcome.
A dark-skinned half-breed, with long, black hair, who had earned half a dollar by helping carry things on board, volunteered in a gruff voice.
"I'se fine cook. Best cook on the island. I cook very cheap."
Time was too valuable to investigate the man's ability, so he was hired. Off went the white launch. Owen steering under instructions from the "pirate," who soon proved he knew gasoline engines. Out of the harbor they went, and then coasted along the beautiful shores of the island. The sea was calm and the cruise uneventful for some time, when the "pirate" called every one's attention to the fact that it was a long time since breakfast. He went below and addressed the cook, who had shut himself up in his tiny galley, as sailors call a boat's kitchen.
"What's your name?" demanded Boyd.
"Filipo."
"Are you a nigger?"