“Your pleasure?” he demanded, when his amazement at being thus interrupted in his meditations, had a little subsided.
“I am directed to put these orders into your own hands,” was the answer.
“Orders!” repeated the young man, with a curling lip. “The authority should be respected which issues its mandates through such a messenger.”
“The authority is one that it has ever proved dangerous to disobey,” gravely returned the boy.
“Indeed! Then will I look into the contents with out delay, lest I fall into some fatal negligence. Are you bid to wait an answer?”
On raising his eyes from the note the other had given him, after breaking its seal, the young man found that the messenger had already vanished. Perceiving how useless it would be to pursue so light a form, amid the mazes of lumber that loaded the wharf, and most of the adjacent shore, he opened the letter and read as follows:—
“An accident has disabled the Master of the outward-bound ship called the ‘Royal Caroline!’ Her consignee is reluctant to intrust her to the officer next in rank; but sail she must. I find she has credit for her speed. If you have any credentials of character and competency, profit by the occasion, and earn the station you are finally destined to fill. You have been named to some who are interested, and you have been sought diligently. If this reach you in season, be on the alert, and be decided. Show no surprise at any co-operation you may unexpectedly meet. My agents are more numerous than you had believed. The reason is obvious; gold is yellow, though I am
“RED.”
The signature, the matter, and the style of this letter, left Wilder in no doubt as to its author. Casting a glance around him, he sprang into a skiff; and, before the boat of the travellers had reached the ship, that of Wilder had skimmed the water over half the distance between her and the land. As he plied his skulls with vigorous and skilful arms, he soon stood upon her decks. Forcing his way among the crowd of attendants from the shore, that are apt to cumber a departing ship, he reached the part of the vessel where a circle of busy and anxious faces told him he should find those most concerned in her fate. Until now, he had hardly breathed clearly, much less reflected on the character of his sudden enterprise. It was too late, however, to retreat, had he been so disposed, or to abandon his purpose, without incurring the hazard of exciting dangerous suspicions A single instant served to recal his thoughts, ere he demanded,—
“Do I see the owner of the ‘Caroline?’”