It seems that I had somewhat mistaken my man. While I was bullying and staring him down, something cold began to press against my stomach, namely, the muzzle of a huge horse pistol that the captain had fished out of the folds of his loose coat.
“Keep your chin-chuckin’s for the women-folks; they like it better,” he said, quite without heat. And then: “I’ve done my errand; what are you going to do?”
“First tell me a few things,” I suggested, wisely ignoring the pistol which he rather ostentatiously concealed under the coat flap. “You know the purport of this letter?”
“Bein’ as I told her how she might fix it, I guess maybe I do.”
“You have the tobacco aboard?”
“All aboard and safe under hatches.”
“Where is your ship?”
He waved a gnarled and tarry hand in the general direction of the East River.
“She’s hangin’ in the stream, ready to trip her anchor.”
“But you’ve had orders to join the fleet in the lower bay?”