CHAPTER XXV
The boys and their luggage were on their way to Wilmington in the familychaise before dawn, and it was scarce seven o'clock when they badefarewell to the old colored serving-man and clambered aboard thefour-horse coach that connected in Philadelphia with the mail coach forNew York.
The coaches of that day were cumbersome affairs, huge of wheel, and withridiculously small bodies slung on wide strips of bull's hide whichserved for springs. The driver's box was high above the forward runninggear. There were as yet no "seats on top," such as were developed in thelater days of fast stage-coach service.
In one of these rumbling, swaying conveyances the boys rode the thirtymiles to Philadelphia, crossing the Schuylkill at Gray's Ferry aboutnoon. They had barely time for a bite of lunch in the White Horse Tavernbefore the horn was blown outside and they hurried to take their placesin the north-bound coach. Along the cobbled streets of the bustling,red-brick town they rumbled for a few moments, then out upon the smoothdirt surface of the York Road, where the four good horses were put to agallop.
The Delaware, opposite Trenton, was reached by six o'clock, and therethe half-dozen passengers left the coach and were carried across on alittle ferry boat, rowed by an old man and his two sons. They spent thenight at an Inn and next morning early boarded another coach boundnortheast over the sparsely settled hills of New Jersey. The road wasnarrow and bad in places, slackening their speed. Twice the horses werechanged, in little hamlets along the way. In the late afternoon theycrossed the marshy flats beyond Newark and just after dusk emerged onthe Jersey side of the Hudson. A few lights glimmered from the lowManhattan shore. The quaint Dutch-English village which was destined togrow in two hundred years to be the greatest city in the world, layquiet in the gathering dark.
The ferry was just pulling out from shore, but at the sound of the coachhorn it swung back into its slip and waited for the passengers to board.
A gruff Hollander by the name of Peter Houter was the ferryman. He stoodat the clumsy steering-beam, while four stout rowers manned the oars ofhis wide, flat-bottomed craft. Approaching the steersman, Bob askedwhere in the town he would be likely to find the Captain of amerchantman then taking cargo in the port. The Dutchman named twotaverns at which visiting seafaring men could commonly be found. One wasthe "Three Whales" and the other the "Bull and Fish."
Landing on the Manhattan shore, the boys shouldered their luggage andtrudged by ill-lighted lanes across the island to the East River. Asthey advanced along the dock-side, Jeremy distinguished among thelow-roofed houses a small inn before which a great sign swung in thewind. By the light which flickered through the windows they could makeout three dark monsters painted upon the board, a white tree apparentlygrowing from the head of each. "The Three Whales," laughed Jeremy, "andevery one a-blowing! Let's go in!"
It was an ill-smelling and dingy room that they entered. A score of menin rough sailor clothes lounged at the tables or lolled at the bar. Twopierced tin lanterns shed a faint smoky light over the scene. Bob waitedby their baggage at the door, while Jeremy made his way from one groupto another, inquiring for Captain Ghent of the _Indian Queen_. Severalof the mariners nodded at mention of the ship, but none could give himword of the skipper's whereabouts.
As he was turning to go out he noticed a man drinking alone at a tablein the darkest corner. His eyes were fixed moodily on his glass and hedid not look up. Jeremy shivered, took a step nearer, and almost criedout, for he had caught a glimpse of a livid, diagonal scar cuttingacross the nose from eyebrow to chin. It was such a scar as could belongto only one man on earth. Jeremy retreated to a darker part of the roomand watched till the man lifted his head. It was Pharaoh Daggs and noneother.
A moment later the boy had hurried to Bob outside and told him his news."If we can find Ghent," said Bob, "he will be able to summon soldiersand have him placed under arrest."
They hastened along the river front for a hundred yards or more and cameto the "Bull and Fish." A man in a blue cloth coat was standing by thedoor, looking up and down the street. He gave a hail of greeting as theycame up. It was Captain Ghent.
"I was just going down to the "Three Whales" thinking you might havestopped there," he said. Bob told him their news and the skipper's facegrew grave. "Better leave the bags here for the present," he suggestedand then, after a moment's quiet talk with the landlord, he led the waytoward the other tavern. On the way he stopped a red-jacketed soldierwho was patrolling the dock. After a word or two had been exchanged thesoldier fell in beside them, and just as they reached the inn door twomore hurried up.
"Come in with me, Jeremy, and point out the man," said Captain Ghent.
The lad's heart beat like a triphammer as he entered the tavern oncemore. A silence fell on the room when the three soldiers were observed.Jeremy crossed toward the dark corner. The table was empty. He lookedquickly about at the faces of the drinkers, but Daggs was not there."He's gone," he said in a disappointed voice.
The innkeeper came forward, wiping his hands on his apron. "That fellowwith the scar?" he said. "He went out of here some five minutes ago."
"Which way?" asked Ghent. But no one in the room could say.
They passed out again, and Ghent smiled reassuringly at the boys."Well," he said, "like as not he'll never cross our path again, so it'sonly one rogue the more unhung."
Jeremy failed to find much comfort in this philosophy, but said no more,and soon found himself snugly on board the big merchantman, where hisbunk and Bob's were already made up and awaiting them.
It was good to hear the creak of timbers and feel the rocking of thetide once more. Jeremy lay long awake that night thinking of manythings. At last he was on the final lap of his journey. The _IndianQueen's_ cargo would be stowed within a day or two and she would startwith him toward home. He thought with a quiver of happiness of thereunion with his father. Had he quite given up hope for his boy? Jeremyhad heard of such a shock of joy being fatal. He must be careful.
He thought of the evil face of the broken-nosed buccaneer. What wasDaggs doing in New York? Just then there was a faint sound as ofcreaking cordage from beyond the side. Jeremy's bunk was near the openport and by leaning over a little he could see the river. Barely aboat's length away, in the dark, a tall-masted, schooner-rigged craftwas slipping past on the outgoing tide, with not so much as aharbor-light showing.