him. What you say of him, and what you have done to
Griffin, remind me that the two men seemed to have some connection
before we engaged either of them," I continued, thinking of the events
of that first day in St. Augustine. "Griffin brought off Cornwood in a
boat."

"And when you apply to Cornwood for a stewardess, Griffin's wife
appears to take the place. But I am bound to say I believe she is a
lady," added the mate.

"Then you think we are marching into hot water, do you, Washburn?" I
asked with interest.

"I don't say you are: I don't know that you are: only that we had
better keep our eyes wide open, as Mr. Tiffany suggests. But it does
look to me as though some sort of a storm is brewing."

"But where can the storm possibly come from?"

"From that rumhole in Bay Street which you visited this afternoon. I
have heard that Boomsby threatened a dozen times to be the destruction
of you. He says you have been the plague of his life; that you have
crossed and defeated him so many times that he will be the 'ruination'
of you yet. This is out of pure revenge. Besides this, he believes your
father is dead, and that, if he can get you out of the way, or bring
you into subjection to what he calls his authority, this steamer will
come into his possession. I know he is a fool; but he believes all this
nonsense."

"Then you mean to suggest--without being able to prove it--that
Cornwood is an agent of Captain Boomsby; and that Griffin Leeds is a
tool of Cornwood, sent on board to watch me, as well as to wait on the
fore-cabin table," I added, putting the various hints into words.

"I don't say it means anything; but that is what it means, if
anything," replied Washburn after some hesitation. "Nothing can be
proved; and we should not be justified in doing anything on mere
suspicion. All we have to do is to keep a close watch on Cornwood and
Griffin Leeds."

We agreed to do this, but in such a manner as not to alarm the
conspirators, if they were such. I told Washburn then that I had
letters from my father, and gave him both of them to read. While he was
thus engaged, I began a letter to my father.

"The last one is written in good spirits," said the mate, as he laid
the letters on my table. "But isn't it a little strange that you have
no letter of later date than last January from your father? I should
have supposed there would have been three or four more letters awaiting
you; I mean those he must have written in Ja