Across the street a bearded seaman took his stubby pipe from between his teeth and looked after the solitary figure. Young sailors do not carry heavy suitcases, bumping against their legs! The man grunted, crossed the street and came up behind the young man. He spoke softly.
“Hi, sailor!”
With a start Frederick turned. Now it was his turn to hesitate. In the fading light he could not distinguish whether the face behind the thick beard was white or colored. So he only answered, “Hi, yo’self!”
The stranger fell in beside him. “When’d you get in?”
“Yesterday. Up from the West Indies.” The answer came easily. But, the seaman thought to himself, it’s the wrong answer. Out of the corner of his eye he studied the young man and threw out another question.
“What’s your ship?”
Frederick was well prepared for this question.
“The Falcon.”
They walked along in silence, the bearded seaman puffing his pipe. Frederick waited.
“Might you be headin’ toward the—north star?”