“Here’s a go!” exclaimed Stockwell, as the servant conducted the boatswain up the stairs to his chamber.
“What did you say anything to him about the passports for?” snapped Sanford to the porter.
The official in uniform by this time understood the matter, and apologized, promising to make it all right with the tall gentleman, and to swear that not a word had been said to him or any one else about passports. It was his business to please everybody, and his perquisites depended upon his skill in doing so.
“What did Peaks mean about police?” said Sanford, as the trio seated themselves near the front door of the hotel.
“He means what he says; confound him, he always does!” replied Stockwell. “He intends to treat us as runaway seamen, and have us arrested if we attempt to leave.”
“We are trapped,” muttered Sanford. “What’s Peaks doing up here?”
“I don’t know, unless he is looking for us.”
“It makes no difference now. We are caught, and we may as well make the best of it.”
“It’s all up with us,” added the coxswain. “Peaks knows what he is about, and there isn’t much chance of getting the weather-gage of him.”
The boatswain came down in a short time. He was cool and good-natured, and knew exactly how to deal with the parties in hand.