Saying this, he drew both of his pistols, setting the hammers with his thumbs in the act of drawing them from his pockets.
Billy Bowsprit raised the pistol which was in his right hand, and was about to pull the trigger, when at a slight and rapid sign from Captain Marston, who stood a little in the rear of young Coe, he suddenly pointed the muzzles of both pistols towards the ground. At the same moment the captain drew both of his pistols also, and placed himself by the side of John.
“Come,” he said, addressing Billy Bowsprit in a really stern voice, “if this is a jest—as I think it is—we have had enough of it. Tell us what you want, and what the whole of this singular affair means.”
“Why, sir,” replied the seaman, in a somewhat crestfallen tone, “no harm has been meant to either of you all the while; and if this young gentleman,” looking at John, “hadn’t been quite so fiery, everything would have been explained to you some time ago. The fact is, my captain is an old acquaintance of both of you; he hasn’t seen either of you for years, and so is very anxious to see you both, if only for a short time. He wants you to come and take breakfast with him this morning. He had business with the schooner up the river here as far as Benedict, to land a cargo of goods. He has to get to Baltimore as soon as possible, but was determined to see you both first. So he landed me early yesterday morning, on this side of the river, opposite Benedict, to carry a message to you. But not knowing the latitude and longitude of that part of the country, I was obliged to take bearings and to make observations so often, that I did not arrive in your neighbourhood till after midnight; and I did not of course like to waken up families who were strangers to me at such a time of night. The notion about the cards was one of my own—a kind of experiment. I know how much curiosity there is in the world; and I felt certain, therefore, of seeing you two gentlemen here this morning.”
“Thank you for the compliment, Mr Bowlegs—I beg your pardon—Bowsprit,” said the captain. “You seem to be somewhat of a philosopher; you carry out a plan with so much coolness, so much self-possession, beings always on your guard neither to act nor to speak hastily or unadvisedly.”
There was evidently sarcasm, if not irony, in the captain’s remarks.
The sailor bowed merely; he seemed to be, to use a common expression, “struck dumb.”
Young Coe laughed heartily. Yet he must doubtless have felt somewhat abashed at the conviction that Marston’s course of treating the affair as a farce was decidedly more successful than his own, of viewing it as a melodrama.
There was silence for a minute or two, during which all the pistols which had been drawn were put out of sight. At length the stillness was broken by a question from John.
“How did you manage to get your card or note into my room?” he asked of the sailor.