"It is too bad your ship is in so unfortunate a situation in the river," said the man. "Some one has told me that she carries cargo of immediate value."
"Yes," said Anthony.
"But what can be done?" said the man. He awaited an answer; but none came, and he proceeded. "Providence decrees these things, and so it is scarcely proper for us to object."
Anthony was one who did not readily put the blame of things on Providence, and he held his tongue with difficulty. However, he saw the one-eyed man shrewdly awaiting an observation from him, and that made silence easier. The stranger talked of ships, cargoes, weather, and misadventures, but Anthony replied only briefly; then the landlord came in, and laid the cloth for the young man's supper. Anthony sat down, and the one-eyed man, with a parting smirk, left the room. The supper was hot and plentiful and good; the host served him himself with great attention. When he had finished, Anthony sat and smoked a Spanish cigar by the fire, listening to the wind whining among the roofs of the tavern and quite at his ease. Now and then the tall, graceful figure in the candle-light would venture to the edge of his thoughts, but he drove it back with resolution.
A clock from somewhere in the place struck nine; Anthony arose and went to see to his horses. He found them well provided for, in warm stalls, watered and fed, and bedded thickly in fresh straw.
"A good team," said the hostler, who held the lantern so that Anthony might see that all was well. "Well set upon their feet, and with fine barrels and strong legs. I like sorrels; they are not as common as some, and they have plenty of courage."
"I suppose," said Anthony, "you have handled horses for a long time."
"Yes," said the man, "for many years, indeed. I've been employed at a half-score inns in my time—inns that have stood on much-traveled roads, and have taken in all who came their way."
"The Brig must be a quiet place after those," said Anthony.
The man smoothed his jaws with a nervous hand.