We strolled to the beach at the hour appointed with our boatman. He was not there; nor any other boatman.
33“Never mind,” said Ward; “I’ll know him if I see him. I’ll go look him up. You fellows find the boat with our things in it.”
He and I reëntered the village, but a fifteen minutes’ search failed to disclose our man. Therefore we returned to the beach. A crowd was gathered close about some common centre in the unmistakable restless manner of men about a dog fight or some other kind of a row. We pushed our way in.
Johnny and Yank were backed up against the palmetto awning of one of the boats in an attitude of deadly and quiet menace. Not two yards away stood four of our well-dressed friends. Nobody as yet displayed a weapon, except that Yank’s long rifle lay across the hollow of his left arm instead of butt to earth; but it was evident that lightnings were playing. The boatman, who had appeared, alone was saying anything, but he seemed to be supplying language for the lot.
Johnny’s tense, alert attitude relaxed a little when he saw us.
“Well?” inquired Ward easily. “What’s the trouble?”
“Yank and I found our goods dumped out on the beach, and others in their place,” said Johnny.
“So you proceeded to reverse matters? How about it?” he inquired pleasantly of the four men.
“I know nothing about it,” replied one of them shortly. “We hired this boat, and we intend to have it; and no whipper-snapper is going to keep us from it.”
“I see,” said Talbot pleasantly. “Well, excuse me 34 a moment while I talk to our friend.” He addressed the man in Spanish, and received short, sullen replies. “He says,” Talbot explained to us, “that he never saw us before in his life, and never agreed to take us up the river.”