“Now, my friend, at which port do you wish to be landed?” asked Marcus.
“I was bound to New Orleans, and still wish to return there,” I answered.
“It is not the place I would counsel you to go to,” he observed. “Some of the people there have long memories, and they would treat you with Lynch law, and a scant allowance of that, if they caught you.”
I told him that I was aware that there was some danger, but that I had resolved to push north up the Mississippi; besides which, as I had letters of credit on a mercantile house at New Orleans, I must go there for the sake of replenishing my purse and wardrobe. He replied that he must consult with the captain about it, as he had strong doubts as to the policy of the proceeding. Some hours afterwards Marcus told me that it was impossible to land me at New Orleans, but that they would put me on shore at Havanna, from whence I could easily get across to that city if I still desired to go.
“But can you venture into the Havanna? will not your schooner run a great risk of being recognised?” I asked.
“Oh no, our papers are all correct. We have powerful friends there who would get us out of trouble, if we got into it, and we depend much on our boldness to escape suspicions,” he answered. “You shall see. With regard to you we shall only have the truth to tell. We found you cast away on an island, took you off, and wish to land you. We must depend on your discretion for the rest. For anything you know to the contrary, as far as you have seen, this vessel is perfectly honest. You understand me.”