It seemed to me that a man of his education, having a profession, could
not take part in any small conspiracy, such as Captain Boomsby would be
likely to get up. If either Cornwood or Griffin Leeds, his agent,
intended to do me any harm, it seemed to me they had had abundant
opportunity to do it already. The pilot might have wrecked the vessel,
and the waiter might have poisoned the food I ate. I resolved to be
very careful how I charged Cornwood with any evil, unless it was
capable of being proved.

"I should like to go on shore, Alick, if you have nothing better for me
to do," said Washburn, coming into my room when he had finished his
supper.

"I have nothing for you to do," I replied. "What's up now?"

"I have some curiosity to know what has become of Cobbington; and I
think I shall call upon his landlord," replied the mate, laughing.

"I will go with you, if you have no objection," I added.

"I should be glad of your company," said he, leading the way to the
gangway. "Hold on a minute, captain," he added, when I began to order
my boat. "There is the boatman that carried off Cornwood's letter. He
is looking for a job: suppose we give him one?"

I did not object, and the mate hailed the boatman. We seated ourselves
in his boat, and he pulled for the shore. Our uniforms gave us great
distinction among the colored people. Very likely some of them thought
we were United States naval officers: at any rate, they all treated us
with "distinguished consideration."

"What's your name, boatman?" asked Washburn.

"Moses Dripple," replied the man.

"Well, Moses Dripple, were you alongside our steamer last evening?"
continued the mate.

"Yes, sar; made a quarter taking a letter ashore," answered Moses,
showing teeth enough for a full-grown alligator.

"Put it in the post-office, did you?" inquired Washburn, indifferently,
as he looked behind him at the steamer.

"No, sar; didn't put it into the post-office; car'ed it to a
saloon-keeper, and he gave me a drink of apple-jack, as soon as he had
read it, for bringin' de letter."

"Is it possible that you drink apple-jack?" asked the mate, with some
observations on the folly of drinking liquor.

"Drink it when I git it, sar."

"Where did you get your apple-jack?"

"At de saloon; where else would I get it, sar?"

"I suppose it made you so boozy you don't know where the saloon was,"
added the mate, keeping up his indifference, as though his talk was
mere banter.