"Git de mainsail on her—Sam, Heldron—lay aft, yo fellers," said Bahama Bill, springing to action. "We'll catch de Saturday ship, an' git de stuff in town in plenty o' time—dat's de lay—Jacksonville—an' dere's de smoke o' de Key West comin' up de Hawk's Channel—see him?" And he pointed to the southward.
"I'll go ashore and get my clothes. They're at the Chinese laundry," said Smart, jumping into the small boat.
"Yo' want toe hurry up—we ain't got no time toe lose. Git my shirts, too, cap. I dun left 'em with de Chink las' week—an' git a five-poun' ham on de way back, we'll need a bit o' grub——"
Smart was already rowing briskly toward the shore, where he landed and made his way rapidly up the street. Wah Lee, the Chinaman who ran the laundry, stood within his doorway and gazed with mild amazement at the unwonted gait of the seaman. Fast walking was not the habit of the Florida cracker, and to see a man sprint along at Smart's gait aroused the suspicion that he was either making a "getaway" from some one or something, or was bent upon most important business.
"He allee samee good mans," said Wah Lee, to one of his numerous brothers ironing a shirt. "Wachee mee skinee him—allee samee bunk. Him sailor fell! Him gotee mon, mon, mon. Me con mans, allee samee bunk. Ha! ha! You see."
Smart stepped into the shanty with a brisk step.
"Get the clothes up, John. Get 'em tied fast right away—all, Bahama Bill's and mine both—hurry, you savvy? Hurry." And the sailor handed over his slip.
"You go to sea to-day?" asked the active Lee, scurrying around behind his counter and trying to match the slip of paper with its strange characters to one of the many bundles already tied fast with white twine, and laid carefully upon the shelves along the walls.
"Yes; sail in a minute—hurry up. Got to get to sea before the steamer gets in——"
"Ah! Allee same good—you take him. Two dolla' fiftee cent."