IF WE were interested in the fortunes of Mr. Mortimer, we might put in an interesting chapter here by relating the various incidents that transpired in the cabin during the night; but as we have nothing to do with his personal adventures only in so far as they are connected with Julian’s, it will be enough to say that it was a night of terror for him, and one that he never forgot; that, declining the pressing invitation his host extended to him to occupy the bed which Mrs. Bowles had arranged for his especial benefit, the guest took his seat in the corner in which the billets of wood for the fire-place were piled, and folding his arms and leaning his head against the wall, watched Jack as closely as ever a cat watched a mouse; that Jack, seeing that the gentleman’s suspicions had been aroused in some mysterious manner, fumed inwardly, but believing that time and patience would accomplish wonders, settled back on his nail-keg to wait until his guest, overcome by weariness and want of sleep, should be compelled to seek repose; that, as the night wore on, and Mr. Mortimer never once changed his position or showed the least sign of drowsiness, Jack began to grow uneasy, and sat fingering the handle of his knife, and occasionally running his eyes over the gentleman’s person from head to foot, as if mentally calculating the chances of a successful encounter with him; that finally, resolved on trying strategy, Jack threw himself upon the bed, and after snoring lustily for half an hour, suddenly opened his eyes, which had never once been closed in sleep, only to find Mr. Mortimer as watchful and seated as near the billets of wood as ever; that then Jack’s patience was all exhausted, and he snored in earnest, but the visitor never moved until daylight began to stream in through the half-open door.
No one, to have heard the hearty good-morning Jack wished his guest as soon as he opened his eyes, would have believed that he had ever had designs upon his life. Neither of them alluded to the matter in any way, but Bowles noticed that his guest was always on the alert.
About 10 o’clock in the forenoon a flatboat might have been seen moored in front of the cabin. On the shore stood a party of three men, one of whom was Jack Bowles, another Mr. Mortimer, and the third the captain of the boat—a gentleman who looked enough like Jack to be his brother. After saying this it is scarcely necessary to add that he carried the face of a villain.
A fourth man was pacing the bank a short distance from the party mentioned, watching all their movements, listening eagerly to the few words of their conversation that now and then caught his ear, and noticing with some nervousness, which showed itself in the frequent changing of his hands from the arm-holes of his vest to the pockets of his coat, that they were looking at him rather suspiciously.
This gentleman, whoever he was, had evidently bestowed considerable pains upon his toilet; and the dignified manner in which he bore himself, as well as the satisfied and admiring glances which he occasionally cast down at his dress, indicated that he had a high opinion of himself and his personal appearance.
His garments were all of the finest broadcloth; but as some of them had been made for larger, and others for smaller men than himself, they fitted him oddly enough. His trowsers being too long, were rolled up around the tops of a pair of heavy cowhide boots; and his coat-sleeves being too short, revealed arms that were as brown and muscular as those of a blacksmith. A heavy watch-chain hung across his vest, and the fingers of both his hands were ornamented with enormous seal rings. But little could be seen of his face, for it was almost entirely concealed by thick, bushy whiskers, and by a large red handkerchief, which was passed under his chin and tied over his head.
“Who is he?” asked Mr. Mortimer, who became unaccountably nervous and excited the instant his eyes rested on the stranger.
“He gave no name,” replied the captain of the flatboat. “He came aboard of us shortly after you left yesterday, and engaged passage for New Orleans. He is going to the West Indies for his health.”
“For his health!” echoed Mr. Mortimer.