Ervin passed on towards Cumming’s Point, his eyes serving him in good stead. Almost in a moment he was by the landing. A towboat lay at anchor, and a couple of mulatto men were in charge of it.
“Hello!” hailed Ervin. His tone was one of easy command.
“Hello,” one of them answered.
“Where are you going?”
“Been out to the Montauk—comin’ in—”
“Lay that boat alongside.”
“We have orders against it, sir, except by special request.”
“Never mind about the orders. I guess you don’t know Captain Brown, of your own company. You are Second South Carolina, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”