Bangham reddened, and looked foolish and uncomfortable under these affectionate regards.
“I guess I’ll go out and see to the cargo,” he said, rising. “The stevedores are unlading, you know, Mr. Atkins.”
“That’s right, Bangham,” returned the merchant. “Come back soon, and we’ll make arrangements for this other matter.”
“Au revoir, Bangham. God bless you,” cried the Southerner, after the departing captain. “And now, Atkins,” he continued, drawing up his chair, “let’s have a talk about business, and get that off our minds, before we follow up that dear William and that dear Antony.”
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ROAR OF ST. DOMINGO.
Captain Bangham, with a mortal aversion to Lafitte, hovered about the outside of the glass door, and left the office several times, before the talk on business was concluded. In those beatific days Cotton was King, and His Majesty’s concerns required a great deal of mercantile, as well as political, attention.
It was about eleven o’clock when, the talk on business concluded, Mr. Lafitte strolled up State street, with the intention of dropping in at Parker’s to lunch. If anything had been needed to complete his elation, the warm and beautiful blue day which shone upon the crowded city, would have done it. Like Sir Ralph the Rover, in Southey’s poem, his heart was joyful to excess; and equally true was it that like that Rover, this Rover’s mirth was wickedness. He felt, as he himself would have expressed it, refreshingly wicked.
Lunch over, and a drink taken, Mr. Lafitte thought it would be pleasant diversion to visit that Nigger Hill he had heard so much about, and see how the colored brethren were lodged. Enchanted with the idea, he engaged a carriage, and lighting a cigar, got in, and told the driver where to carry him.