"Or a colored gem'man smelling po'k chops on the frypan," suggested Frenchy, chuckling.
"Say, Mister," asked Whistler, turning to the skipper of the smack, "is there a tank ship in here?"
"An oil tanker? No! Nothing like it."
"I smell it, too!" exclaimed Ikey suddenly.
"What you boys smell is the Sarah Coville that came in just ahead of us. She's anchored here somewhere," said the fisherman.
"What sort is she?" Whistler demanded. Then he described swiftly the oil tender he had marked that afternoon passing the Blue Reef fishing grounds.
"That's her," said the man. "She often slips in here. Don't know who owns her now. Used to belong to the Texarcana Oil Company before the war. She's only a lighter."
"Is she laden?" asked Whistler.
"Didn't look so to me," was the reply.
Whistler Morgan said no more, and he warned his friends to have no further talk upon the matter. After they got ashore, however, all four were much excited by the incident.