In Which We Have a Sensation

"Never do you mind, Peterson," said I. "Those boys may be useful to us
yet. The one with blue eyes has proved himself able to keep the ladies
in their cabin, and as for the one who was going to run you through
when we took the boat, he still may have to work to keep Williams down
in the engine-room when we make our landing."

"It may come out all right," said the old man gloomily, "but sometimes
I fear for the worst."

"You always do, Peterson, and that is no frame of mind for a healthy
pirate. But here we are below the railway warehouse district, and I
think nearly opposite slip K, where we land. Port your helm, and run
in slow. We've got to have gasoline, although I must say my two
bullies took aboard quite a store up there at the Bayou."

"Port it is, sir," said Peterson gloomily, still smoking. And he made
as neat a landing as ever in his life.

A shadowy form arose amidst the blackness of the dock and came
directly forward to take our line.

"Who's that?" I demanded. "Are you from Lavallier and Thibodeau?"

"Yes, M'sieu," came the answer. "Those supply is here."

"All right. Help him get the stuff aboard, Peterson."

They went about their work. Just as turning I saw standing at my
elbow, the slight form of L'Olonnois, his arms folded and hat drawn
upon his brow.

"Bid the varlets hasten," he hissed to me. "Time passes."