In Which We Make a Run For It

Not so my hardy mates, however, who ate with the keen appetite of
youth, from fruit through bacon and toast and back again, both talking
all the while. Nor, as the event proved, altogether unwisely. Indeed,
it was stout Jean Lafitte who resolved my doubts, and by suggesting
the simple medicine of action rather than meditation, sufficed for the
removal of one of my two minds.

"What ho! Black Bart," said he, after his third helping of bacon, "why
does our good ship lie here idle at her anchor?" Question direct, like
Jean himself, and demanding direct answer.

"Ask Captain Peterson," said I. "He perhaps can tell where we can get
more gasoline."

"No, he can't. I asked him this morning."

"Then 'twould seem we must lie here all winter, unless discovered by
some relief expedition."

"Why don't we start a relief expedition of our own?" demanded he.

"And how?"

"Why, me and Willy, the deck-hand, we'll take the long boat an' go out
an' explore this region roundabout. Somebody may have gasoline
somewhere, and if so, we can git it, can't we?"

"Your idea is excellent, Jean Lafitte," said I. "Within the hour you
shall set forth to see whether or not there is any settlement on this
bayou. And that you may not need use violence when secrecy is our
wish, here is a fat purse for our stores. And hasten, for of a truth,
Jean Lafitte, I am most aweary of this very morning, and I long to see
the white seas roll once more."