I sought to express my gratitude, but he cut me short, and rang for his mulatto boy to show me out. As it was by now past nine o'clock and a dark, cloudy evening, I returned to my hotel for the night.
But sunrise found me down in the midst of the hurly-burly and confusion of the water front. Such a scene was never known elsewhere than here in the port of the Father of Waters. Rowdy rivermen from the Ohio and Mississippi settlements, and no less rowdy seamen from the four quarters of the globe, lewd women and dock workmen, black and white, swarthy creole merchants and weather-beaten ship's officers,—all jostling and hurrying about wharf and levee in the cool of the early morning.
Upon starting to inquire, I discovered that it was not so simple a matter to find the sloop Siren as I had imagined. The slaves and creoles were polite in their replies, the sailors and rivermen gruff, but all alike expressed their inability to enlighten me.
At last I accosted at a venture a splendidly built gentleman of about my own age and breadth but a full two inches taller.
"Monsieur," I said, noting his black hair and French features, "your pardon, but I am in search of the schooner Siren, Captain Lafitte."
"Ah," he replied, eying me with a polite yet penetrating gaze. "May I request you to name your business with Captain Lafitte?"
"Sir," I answered, bowing, "my business with Monsieur Lafitte is private. If you cannot favor me with the location of the Siren—"
"If I cannot favor you with that, I can at least with the location of Jean Lafitte," he said, bowing in turn. "Monsieur, permit me to introduce myself as Jean Lafitte, at your service."
"Monsieur, your servant, Dr. John H. Robinson, with a letter from Monsieur Daniel Clark," I responded.
His fine hazel eyes glowed. "A friend of Monsieur Clark!"