"How long ze Dornoch will she stop in zat port?" asked the Frenchman, in a very indifferent tone, as though the answer was not of the least consequence to him.
"Not long; I heard it stated in St. George's that she would get her supplies and cargo on board to-day and to-morrow, and will sail before dark to-morrow night," replied Mr. Alwayn. "The government here ought not to allow her to remain even as long as that, for she is plainly intended for a Confederate cruiser, and my men inform me that she has six great guns, and fifty men."
M. Rubempré obtained all the information the consul was able to give him, and much of it was of great importance. The official was under obligations to the two strangers, and he seemed not to suspect that either of them was an American, much less a naval officer. They took their leave of him in the politest manner possible, and were shown to the door by the consul.
"I am not quite sure that all his information is correct, and we must investigate for ourselves," said the detective when they were in the street. "But this affray is bad for us, and I was very sorry when you interfered, Christophe."
"You did not expect to see me fold my arms when a representative of the United States, and under our flag, was attacked by a lot of ruffians?" demanded Christy, rather warmly, though he spoke in French.
"I know you could not help it, and I did my best to aid you," added M. Rubempré. "I only mean that it was unfortunate for us, for when we go about on the islands, we may be recognized by some of that mob. We must go back to the hotel."
In a few minutes more they were at the Atlantic, where the Frenchman, with his usual flourish, ordered a carriage to be ready in half an hour, adding that he was about to dress for some visits he was to make in St. George's. They went to their rooms, and each of them changed his dress, coming out in black suits. The master wore a frock coat, but the servant was dressed in a "claw-hammer," and looked like a first-class waiter.
It is about a two hours' ride over to St. George's, and Christy enjoyed the excursion as much as though there had not been a blockade-runner in the world. The town, with even its principal street not more than ten feet wide, reminded him of some of the quaint old cities of Europe he had visited with his father a few years before. But M. Rubempré was bent on business, and the delightful scenery was an old story to him. They took a boat at a pier, and for an hour a negro pulled them about the harbor. There were quite a number of steamers in the port, long, low, and rakish craft, built expressly for speed, and some of them must have been knocked to pieces by the blockaders before the lapse of many weeks, though a considerable proportion of them succeeded in delivering their cargoes at Wilmington or other places.
The visitors looked them over with the greatest interest. They even went on board of a couple of them, the detective pretending that he was looking for a passage to some port in the South from which he could reach Mobile, where his brother was in the Confederate army. No one could doubt that he was a Frenchman, and on one of them the captain spoke French, though very badly. M. Rubempré's good clothes secured the respect and confidence of those he encountered, and most of the officers freely told him where they were bound, and talked with great gusto of the business in which they were engaged. But none of them could guarantee him a safe passage to any port on the blockaded coast.
The excursion in the boat was continued, for the visitors had not yet seen the steamer they were the most anxious to examine. The detective would not inquire about this steamer, fearful that it might be reported by the negro at the oars, and excite suspicion. But at last, near the entrance to the harbor, the boatman pointed out the Dornoch, and told them all he knew about her. There were several lighters alongside, discharging coal and other cargo into her.