The hotel proved to be a one-story building of Spanish architecture, with numerous small windows and a rather low door. It was presided over by a round-faced Englishman, who stared at Billy Dill curiously when the old tar presented himself.
"Do you remember me, Mr. Chadsey?" asked the sailor.
"I do," was the answer. "You were here some years ago. But I cannot recall your name."
"Oh, yes, yes; you were with Mr. Porter and Mr. Lemington," returned the hotel-keeper.
"That's it. I am looking for Mr. Porter now."
"Isn't here?" cried Dave, and his heart sank. "Isn't he in town at all?"
"No, he left the island a couple of months ago."
"I don't know. He said something about going to Sobago Island and something about going to Australia, but where he really did go to, I have not learned."
"This young man is very much interested in meeting Mr. Porter," explained Billy Dill. "His name is Porter, too, and I reckon they are related. Have you any idea where we can find out where Dunston Porter went?"
"Might find out at the shipping offices."
"Why, of course!" exclaimed Dave. "Let us go to the different offices at once."
Billy Dill was willing, and without loss of time led the way to the street upon which the majority of the shipping of Cavasa Island was booked. The offices were mostly small and rather dirty, and around them hung sailors and other men, of various nationalities, and some of them far from prepossessing in their general appearance.
They visited two offices without success, and then came to a place located on a corner, with doors on both streets.
"Hello!" cried Roger. "There is Mr. Van Blott just ahead of us! Is this the shipping firm with which Mr. Lawrence does business?"
"I don't think it is," answered Billy Dill.
"Must have a little business of his own," said Dave. "But I don't care. Come along." Just then he was thinking only of his personal affairs.
They entered the office, which reeked of tobacco smoke and the smell of rum. In the rear was another office, and they were just in time to see the supercargo go into this, shutting a partition door behind him.
Looking around, Dave saw a clerk at a corner desk looking over some papers with an elderly German.
"I will be at liberty in a few minutes," said the clerk, in broken English. "Please to take seats," and he pointed to a couple of low benches set against the wall and the partition.