"'P.S.' I continued, reading from the letter. 'In my hurry I forgot the most important part of my stores. Please send me a couple of bottles of whiskey, and let me know all about the fawn.'"
That was all; and Mr. Whippleton wanted but two things—whiskey and information in regard to the fawn. I intended to furnish him with both, as the representative of Mr. Ben Waterford. I found a sheet of paper in the cabin, and I proceeded to describe the condition of the "fawn."
"Dear Charley," I began; and I had heard Mr. Waterford apply this familiar name to our junior partner: "The fawn is very uneasy, and does not like the idea of staying over night in this lagoon. I don't think it is safe for you to remain here. Phil said the officers were on your track, that Collingsby was after you with a sharp stick. Phil must have spoken to the fawn, for she is very suspicious. I shall have to leave in order to quiet her. I am all alone, and can't cook, or do anything, while sailing. I am in a fix. I want Peter badly. Can't you let me have him? I need him more than you do. Why can't you leave the Florina here, and come on board of the Marian? I send you four bottles of whiskey.
"P.S. I got a rap on the right hand in the fight, and can't write much."
I wrote this with a pencil, and in a style which would pass for anybody's handwriting who had been wounded in a fight. I folded it up, and having placed the four bottles of whiskey in a basket, I asked Marian to deliver them to the cook, while I continued to cough vigorously. I stood at the companion-way while my fair companion did the errand.
"Gorrificious, Miss Collingsby!" exclaimed the negro. "Whiskey's plenty as water, but none of it for old Peter."
"Take this letter to Mr. Whippleton," added Marian.
"Yes, miss. Old Peter'll do that. Can you told me if the letter says how many bottles of whiskey they is in the basket?"
"It says four."
"Marian," I called to her. "Here is one for Peter."