"I've heard whispers of that purpose, but nothing to give attention to," said Anthony.
"This war in Europe will give excuse to many a rascally thing in our waters before we are done with it," warned the landlord. "Mark you that."
Anthony finished his bread and beef, and drank the mug of ale which had been brought to him; and, after some further talk with the landlord, he paid his score, took to his sleigh once more, and in the course of some few hours was in New Castle. He gave no more thought to the man with the patch over his eye; he now knew where to find him and would attend to him later on. The General Stark was pointed out to him as she lay ice-locked about a hundred or more yards from the shore; and he lost no time in getting aboard of her. He talked with the second mate and spent that night in the ship. Next day he went briskly to work collecting sledges for the work in hand; messengers ran roads, notices were posted at stores and taverns, and by the third morning upward of a hundred stout teams were drawn up on the river-bank, ready to carry through the project. The hatches were off the General Stark, and the merchandise was hoisted cheerily out of her; spans of horses did the hauling at the tackle; the sledges were brought to the ship-side and received the cargo as it was swung out of the hold. By night all the valuable parts of the vessel's cargo were transferred; and by dawn next day the caravan, one sledge behind the other, started up the river road. Corkery had rejoined the ship by this; and he stood on deck, his elbows on the rails, watching the long file of laden vehicles as they plodded onward.
"That is the kind of enterprise this river knows little of," said he. "You'll make a stir when that merchandise gets to the market, Mr. Stevens; they'll open their eyes."
The gray of early morning was upon the leaden river, with its ridges of dirty snow and its dispirited, helpless ships. Anthony's eyes were fixed upon a schooner about a mile away, from the galley of which smoke was arising.
"That, I think, is a French armed vessel of which I have heard," said he.
"She is French, and she is armed," answered Corkery.
"I have a trifle of business aboard of her," said Anthony.
The deck was littered with broken bits of timber, thrown down in the hurried work of hoisting the cargo; and from this Anthony selected a stout cudgel. He threw it over the ship's side; then, without another word to Corkery, he slid down a rope, put the cudgel under his arm, and, with hands thrust deeply into his pockets, set off across the ice to the other ship.
As he reached its side a voice called in French.