When the boys reached the wharf they put themselves under the guidance of the negro, who led them through an arched gateway to the street, where stood a heavy cotton wagon, to which was attached a team of four mules. At a sign from the negro, the young sailors sprang into the vehicle, and the man mounting one of the mules, set up a shout, the team broke into a gallop, and the boys were whirled rapidly down the street.
When the wagon had disappeared, the mate of the Stella arose from his place of concealment behind the sugar hogsheads, and with a smile of satisfaction on his face walked rapidly toward his vessel. He spent a few minutes in the cabin with Mr. Bell, and when he came on deck, ordered the yawl to be manned. While this command was being obeyed by a part of the schooner’s company, the others busied themselves in bringing boxes and bales up from the cabin; and when the yawl was hauled alongside, these articles were handed down to her crew, who stowed them away under the thwarts. This done, the mate took his seat at the helm, the crew gave way on the oars, and presently the yawl was lying alongside Walter Gaylord’s yacht. The mate at once boarded her; the fore-hatch, which Chase and Wilson, in their haste to obey the order contained in Walter’s note, had neglected to fasten, was opened, and the officer and two of his men jumped down into the galley, whence they made their way into the hold. The boxes and bales were then passed up out of the yawl and through the hatches, one by one, and stowed away behind the water-butts. This much being accomplished, the mate came up out of the hold, and leaving his men to close the hatch, went into the cabin and opened the desk which Tomlinson had pointed out to him. Almost the first thing his eyes rested upon was an official envelope, addressed to “Captain Walter Gaylord, Commanding the Yacht Banner.” Thrusting it hastily into his pocket, he ascended to the deck, and in a few seconds more the yawl was on her way down the harbor. Arriving alongside the Stella, the mate once more sought an interview with Mr. Bell, and handed him the envelope he had taken from Walter’s desk. The gentleman glanced quickly over the document it contained, and then tearing it into fragments, walked to one of the stern windows and threw the pieces into the water.
“There!” said he, in a tone of exultation. “The next time Captain Gaylord is asked to produce his clearance papers, I think he will have some trouble in finding them. Before he is done with us he will wish he had stayed at home where he belongs.”
CHAPTER VII.
DON CASPER.
Many were the speculations in which Chase and Wilson indulged, as they were whirled along over the rough road, and bumped about from one side to the other of the cotton wagon. What sort of a situation was Featherweight in? Where had Walter and Perk found the wagon; and how had they made the negro understand the service required of him, seeing that the man could speak neither English nor French, and the captain and his companion could not talk Spanish? These, and a multitude of questions of like character, occupied the minds of the boy-tars for the next half hour, and during that time, they left the village more than five miles behind them; but still they were whirled along without the least diminution of speed, the negro swinging his whip and yelling with all the power of his lungs, and the heavy wagon rolling and plunging in a way that reminded the young sailors of the antics the Banner had performed during her voyage across the Gulf.
“There’s one thing about it”—shouted Wilson, holding fast to the side of the vehicle, and speaking in a very loud tone of voice, in order to make himself heard—“if Walter told this darkey to drive fast, he is obeying orders most faithfully. Where do you suppose he is taking us? And tell me, if you can, how Walter and Perk could have got so far out into the country, during the hour and a half they have been gone from the vessel?”
“That is the very question that was passing through my own mind,” said Chase. “To tell the truth, there’s something about this business that doesn’t look exactly right.”
“Well, you needn’t mind knocking my brains out, if it doesn’t look exactly right,” roared Wilson, as a sudden lurch of the wagon brought his friend’s head in violent contact with his own. “Keep on your side if you can, Chase.”