"Seen anything of the sloop Sea-Horse?" he asked several bystanders.
"Thar she lays—right at the dock," said the watchman of the wharf.
"Ah!" He smiled grimly.
"You want the crew?" asked the watchman.
"I certainly do that," said the sheriff. "There's a bit of a charge of kidnapping against the mate and captain. Ran off with a whole lot of Chinks from below. They are aboard, I suppose?"
"That sloop was sold out hours ago, the crew gone, and the whole thing settled before five o'clock. It ain't likely you'll come up with the men you're after in this town. No, sir, they don't belong here—good night." And the watchman grinned as the sheriff, after gazing down at the deserted vessel, sadly went his way.
At the station Bahama Bill looked up to the window where Smart sat in the train. He felt the parting with the keenness often developed in the African character, and he was loath to leave until the train pulled out.
"Good-bye ag'in, cap; good-bye," he called up to him as the train gathered headway slowly.
Sanders stood near, and, not knowing the friendship between the two, was a little disconcerted at the mate's warmth.