This comedy was for the sole benefit of the assemblage on the docks.
The canvas rolls with the rifles inside were already on the way to Kiel, and the boxes to which Roque was pointing were simply ship supplies.
Billy and Henri were not aware that they had been accorded an unusual privilege when they looked upon the real Roque during the hunt for the channel steamer.
Kiel, in contrast to Hamburg, seethed with activity, the streets swarming with sailors and marines, while in the harbor dispatch boats dashed hither and thither.
Herr Roque kept Billy and Henri close to his elbow, and forbade their engaging in conversation with any stranger, unless duly presented by him. The English tongue was not at all popular in Kiel at this time. Henri, to be sure, could rattle off German like a native, but it was deemed best that he also become a mute like his companion.
Notwithstanding all this precaution, the boys were fated to have their usual adventure before quitting this lively town. They never would stand hitched! Herr Roque had some special business in the town, no doubt concerning the “music boxes,” and he “planted” his young charges in a hotel near the docks, with a word to the landlord to give them a look over now and then.
“I don’t propose to stick around this coffee house all day,” rebelled Billy, “when there is so much going on outside. Let’s join that crowd piking at the harbor. Something’s doing there.”
Henri was in the same humor, and the pair mixed with the mentioned curious crowd.
The attraction was three huge liners transformed by a coat of gray paint and yellow funnels.
The boys pushed their way to the front rank of the viewers, and then a little ahead of what appeared to be the limit of approach.