"My ship'll get in, sir," said Luke, almost too sturdily. "I wish I was as sure 'bout some others. I'm afraid they're going to crack our traders 'mong the islands."
"That'll do! Go!" he was told, and he went out, leaving behind him a very capable naval officer in a decidedly uncomfortable state of mind.
"Gentlemen," he said to his officers, "all that he says is only too true. I am sorry it is, but I am intending to embody it in my report to the Admiralty. The unpleasant thing for us is, however, that we can't spare anything or send anything, from this fleet and station, to prevent the mischief that's threatened among the Antilles."
They all agreed with him. All of them considered, also, that the man Luke Watts had given valuable information and suggestions. He had done so, doubtless, but he had not thereby done anything to hinder the future operations of any Yankee privateer.
He was rowed back to the Termagant, and when he arrived somebody was waiting for him on her deck.
"Feller named Allen," he was told by a sailor at the rail. "He's a kind o' fur pedler, I'd say, with a permit from one o' the generals, I don't know who."
"All right," said Watts. "Fetch him below, packs and all. I'll see if his papers are reg'lar. We don't make any loose work on this ship."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the sailor.
Sharp as was his examination of them a moment later, he seemed to be entirely satisfied with the documents presented to him by the man named Allen. He had obtained the customary authority, as a loyal merchant of the port of New York, to ship by the Termagant to his agent in London, a properly scheduled assortment of valuable furs. All had been officially inspected and approved.
"Come down below," said Captain Watts. "All your packages are down. I'll give these things another overhauling in my cabin."