“‘How’s the wind to-day?”
“‘South-south-west,’ replied Coulte, in his broken English.
“‘How was it last night?’
“‘North-north-east.’
“‘Where from?’ asked the voice.
“‘Havana, Galveston, and New Orleans.’
“‘Whither bound?’
“‘Here, and there, and everywhere.’”
“What did they mean by talking that way?” asked Seth, who had listened eagerly to his cousin’s story, but with an expression on his face which said plainly that he did not believe a word of it. “I can’t make any sense out of it.”
“Neither could I—neither could anybody,” replied Bayard, “not even if he were a member of the organization, because there is no sense in it. But there was use in it, for the man on the other side of the bushes knew that Coulte was one of the smugglers by the way he answered the questions; at least I thought he was satisfied of it, for he pulled aside the bushes and showed himself. He shook hands with the men in the yawl, and began a conversation with them. I heard every word that was said, but the only information I gained was, that Coulte’s two sons were employed as foremast hands on board the vessel in which the smuggling is carried on. When the conversation was ended, Coulte passed out some bales and boxes he had brought in his yawl, and then got out his oars and pulled down the bayou.”