In Which Land Shows in the Offing

Before the white sea mists had rolled away I was on deck, and had
summoned a general conference of my crew.

"'Polyte," I demanded of our pilot, "how long before your partner will
be at the lighthouse, below, there?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe thees day sometam."

"And how long before he'll start back with the mail?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe thees same day sometam."

"And how long will it take him to get back to some post-office with
those letters?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe those nex' day sometam."

"And then how long to the big railroad to New Orleans?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"Oh, maybe those nex' day too h'also sometam, heem."

"Then it will be three days, four days, before a letter could get from
the lighthouse to New Orleans?"

"'Ow long?"

"Three or four days?"

"Oui, maybe so."

"And how long will it take us to get in to the plantation of Monsieur
Edouard, above, there?"

"'Ow long?"

"Yes."

"H'I'll could not said, Monsieur. Maybe three four day--'sais pas."

"Holy Mackinaw!" I remarked, sotto voce.

"Pardon?" remarked 'Polyte respectfully. "Le
Machinaw--que-est-que-ce-que-est, ca?"

"It is my patron saint, 'Polyte," I explained, and he crossed himself
for his mistake.

"Suppose those h'engine he'll h'ron, we'll get in four five h'our
h'all right, on Monsieur Edouard, yass," he added. "H'I'll know those
channel lak some books."

By now Williams--who, judging by certain rappings, hammerings and
clankings heard through the cabin walls back and above the
engine-rooms, had been at work much of the night--had reported, and
much to my pleasure had said he thought we could make it in at least
to the Manning dock before further repairs would be needed. To prove
which, he went down and "turned her over a time or two," as he
expressed it. Whereupon I gave orders to break out the anchor, and
knowing that any Cajun market hunter and shrimp fisher like 'Polyte
can travel in any mist or fog before sunup by some instinct of his
own, I took a chance and began to feel our way out to the mouth of the
Manning channel before the morning mists were gone; so that we were at
breakfast by the time the wide and gently rippling bay broke clear
below us, and by magic, we saw the oak-crowned heights of the island
dead ahead.