"I don't know anything about that," continued the captain, fumbling over the papers he had taken from his desk. "I learned to read writing when I was a boy; and that was what you wrote."
"I never wrote anything of the kind, Captain Blastblow. But never mind that: go on with your story," added the colonel.
"I can prove all that I say, sir. Your friend, Mr. Boomsby, as you called him in your letter, came on board about half-past six, and gave me your instructions to proceed to New Orleans as soon as I got the letter."
"I sent you no such letter, Captain Blastblow," protested Colonel Shepard. "I never wrote any such letter; some one has been playing a trick on you."
"But I have the letter in your own handwriting," pleaded the captain. "I will read it to you. It is dated at the St. James Hotel, with a picture of the house, and the heading printed upon it. Here is what it says:—
Captain Blastblow:
I have received a despatch which will prevent me from leaving Jacksonville for a few days. You will proceed to New Orleans as soon as you get this letter; and I will go there by land with my family. For reasons I will explain to you some other time, I want you to keep out of the way of the Sylvania. I have made a bet that the Islander will get to New Orleans first; and I expect, from what you said, you will win the bet for me. This letter will be delivered to you by my friend, Mr. Boomsby, who will take passage with you; and you will treat him as well as you would me."
Yours truly,
P. G. Shepard.
"If those instructions are not as plain talk as any shipmaster could desire, I should like to know what would be plain," continued Captain Blastblow, as he finished the reading of the letter. "I hove up the anchor at once, and rang to go ahead. I was ordered to keep out of the way of the Sylvania, and I have done my best to avoid her."