“Yes, sir.”
“If you should hear of those people, don’t let them entangle you into delaying. There’s a norther coming and I cannot wait for you. I would not like you to lose your passage.”
“I’ll not lose my passage, sir.”
“I see the tug’s down the quay there, with steam up. Now, Mr. Garsinton, have you any gear to go aboard?”
“Yes, Captain Cary, a small trunk and that packing-case.”
“That packing-case? That sort of deckhouse by the bollard? It looks like a pantechnicon van. What is in it?”
“Two sets of Las Palomas crockery for my sister, with the necessary packing.”
“You’ll have to pay me freight on it. It will take a yard-tackle to get it over the side. Now we must get a boatman and a couple of Carib boys to get it aboard for us.”
Sard in his caleche was by this time turning about to go to the hotel. He paid particular attention to the packing-case, which shone there in new white wood beside the bollard. He thought that it looked big for two sets of crockery, but supposed that the stuff was dunnaged against the sea. He drove to the hotel.
At the hotel, the woman in charge remembered the name of Kingsborough.