“If we once get out of this scrape I’ll never have anything more to do with these men. I am afraid of them.”
“Nonsense! Don’t be uneasy,” replied Bayard, carelessly. “They are mad because we know that they belong to the smugglers. Let’s see them help themselves. We’ve got them completely under our thumbs.”
Having by this time reached the schooner, Bayard sprang over the rail and looked about him with much interest. Naval etiquette was strictly enforced by the rules of the yacht club of which he was a member, and his first move was to salute the quarter-deck, which he did with as much dignity as though he had been an admiral, and his next to make a hasty but critical examination of the schooner. She was about fifty tons burden, long and narrow, with a black hull, and tall, raking masts, and was supplied with more canvas than vessels of her size generally carry. It was plain that she had been built for speed, and that she was commanded by an experienced sailor, for her rigging was well kept, and her deck was in the best possible order. Bayard was delighted with her.
“Isn’t she a beauty?” he cried, turning to his cousins. “I don’t wonder that she has never been caught; for I will warrant that she can out-sail any revenue cutter in Uncle Sam’s service. Well, Coulte, good morning! You didn’t sleep very well last night, judging by your appearance.”
The Frenchman paused long enough to take his pipe out of his mouth and give utterance to a shrill whistle, and then put it in again, and continued his walk up and down the deck; while his boys folded their arms and leaned sullenly against the rail. Bayard looked from one to the other of them and exclaimed impatiently,
“What’s the matter with everybody? That’s what I want to know. Coulte, stand still and talk to me.”
“O, Meester Payard!” cried the old man, wringing his hands violently; “vat a grand mistake is here—one grand big mistake. Ah! oui! whew!”
Coulte whistled long and loud, took a few more pulls at his pipe, and went on,
“You zee, Meester Payard, my leetle poys don’t know Meester Valter zo very veil—zey don’t seen him very many times. Zey go down last night to Meester Gaylord’s house, and zey—zey—whew!”
“Well, what did they do? Go on,” commanded Bayard.