A stout man came forward.
"Yes, sir," said he, expectantly. He valued the young man for a moment, and then said with an air of confidence, "I'll venture, sir, it is in the matter of the Bristol Pride."
Anthony smiled.
"Well," said he, "that good vessel has done its part in my being here; there's no denying that."
"It is a marvelous thing, sir," said the stout man, smilingly, "how news gets abroad. The Pride only rounded the bend an hour ago; and yet a score of gentlemen have been here already. But," and he pointed through the glass of the door to where a small brig was anchored in the stream, "it's a common saying, though, that good news travels fast; and that ship carries in her hold three pipes of as fine brandy as ever bore the stamp of the king of Spain."
"Well," said Anthony, good-humoredly, "I can well believe it. And not only the three pipes of brandy are under her hatches; there are also two puncheons of sherry that came by way of St. Kitts—a rare, brown wine, as I had occasion to notice on the levee at New Orleans, and with the sun in every drop of it."
The stout man looked at him with a changed interest.
"Am I to understand, sir, that you came as a passenger in the brig?" he inquired.
"Yes," replied Anthony. "She became windbound at Newcastle yesterday; so I left her and came on by chaise."
"Your name would be Stevens, then?"