"I know these countries," Baptiste continued; "and there is one very good reason why you should call at some port on the way."
"What is it?"
"You have no bill of health with you. Now in Buenos Ayres the authorities are very afraid of yellow fever, and if you arrive there with no papers to show where you are from, they will take it for granted that you have come from some infected port, and that you have probably lost some hands on the voyage and wish to conceal it. They would, therefore, put you in quarantine for who knows how long. They might, under the suspicious circumstances, refuse even to give you pratique at all, and send you off to sea again."
"How will calling at a Brazilian port remedy that?"
"Because in Brazil they are not afraid of yellow fever, as they always have it there. At Rio they won't trouble you at all, and your consul will give you a clean bill of health for Buenos Ayres. Then, being satisfied that you have had no illness on board, the Buenos Ayres people will grant you pratique after, let us say, a quarantine of four days, even if yellow fever were raging at Rio."
"A queer plan to avoid quarantine for Yellow Jack by calling at the headquarters of the fever!" said Carew; "but I see that you are right. I will put into Rio."
After a pause the Frenchman said thoughtfully, "I shall be sorry to leave this vessel, sir. I suppose you still think of selling her in the River Plate. I should like to continue the cruise for another year."
"So should I, but I can't afford it. Yachting is an expensive amusement."
"Oh, I don't know that. A cruise may be made to pay its way even in these days, especially if one carries a warrant from the Admiralty of one's country like you do. The authorities are always civil to one who sails under the Government blue ensign, and never trouble him with the tedious formalities the common merchantman is subjected to."
"I don't know what you mean," said Carew. "There is no money to be made now by legitimate trade at sea. Besides, a yacht is not allowed to trade at all."