A landsman would have seen no significance in this order, but Walter and his crew did, and they were not at all pleased to hear it. The sending of the men back on board the vessel was good evidence that the revenue captain did not believe a word they said, and that he was going to “look into things,” merely to satisfy what he thought to be a boyish curiosity. It is not likely that he would have done even this much, had he not been aware that the young sailors had influential friends on shore who might have him called to account for any neglect of duty. Walter’s disgust and indignation increased as they approached the fire. The men composing the crew of the smuggling vessel stepped aside to allow them to pass, and Mr. Bell advanced with outstretched hand, to greet the revenue captain.
“Why, how is this?” exclaimed the latter, accepting the proffered hand and shaking it heartily. “I did not expect to find you here, Mr. Bell. Ah! Captain Conway, good morning to you,” he added, addressing the red-whiskered master of the schooner. “Captain Gaylord, there is no necessity of carrying this thing any farther. The presence of these two gentlemen, with both of whom I am well acquainted, is as good evidence as I want that the schooner is not a smuggler.”
“A smuggler!” repeated the master of the Stella.
“Why, what is the matter?” asked Mr. Bell, opening his eyes in surprise, and looking first at Walter, and then at the revenue captain, while the crew of the schooner crowded up to hear what was going on.
“Why the truth is, that this young gentleman has got some queer ideas into his head concerning your vessel. He thinks she is the smuggler of which I have been so long in search.”
“And I have the best of reasons for thinking so,” said Walter; not in the least terrified or abashed by the angry glances that were directed toward him from all sides. “In the first place, does she not correspond with the description you have in your possession?”
“I confess that she does,” replied the revenue captain, running his eye over the schooner from cross-trees to water-line.
“She answers the description much better than the yacht, does she not?”
“Yes. But then she has papers, which my lieutenant has examined, and I know these two gentlemen. You had no papers, and I was not acquainted with a single man on board your vessel.”
“A smuggler!” repeated the red-whiskered captain, angrily; “I don’t believe there’s such a thing in the Gulf.”