Billy was discussing with Henri some of the remarkable features of the recent voyage, as the steamer came in sight of Helgoland Bay, on the return trip.
“He’s a magician, that’s what he is,” maintained Billy. “Did you ever see the beat of the way he unmasked this ship?”
“And himself,” added Henri.
At the mouth of the Elbe, the tarpaulins again shrouded the warlike fixings that had been revealed by their removal, and it was the familiar “trading vessel,” dandy captain, roustabouts, and all, that went in with the tide.
“Home again, young sirs.”
The oily tradesman once more, horn spectacles, bland address, and benevolent smile—Herr Roque, the peaceful merchant with a liking for bright young men and pleasure trips when business was dull.
“We’ll have a little run up to Kiel by the way of the great canal, a nice jaunt to complete our vacation, young sirs.”
Herr Roque was the picture of innocence, as he genially waved his hand to a party of harbor officials, passing near in a launch. He took snuff from a silver box and extended the compliment of giving the captain a chance to take a pinch.
It was noticeable, however, that the slightest word from the kind “merchant” commanded the instant respect and attention of those about him.
“It would make us all very happy, my dear captain, if you could spare the time to arrange our ship to Kiel. Herr Raum is very anxious to get the goods. He has orders from Berlin to fill.”