ere is our
pilot-boat; and this is as far as we usually take vessels."

"But I don't care to have you leave us here, Captain Cayo," I replied.
"It is clear enough that the Islander intends to keep out of our way.
She may run in among the Dry Tortugas, and having a pilot on board, she
could easily elude us."

"She might do that when she finds you are gaining on her, as I see you
are, for we have made half a knot on her since we came out of the
channel. But if we leave the pilot-boat behind, I can't get off the
steamer when you don't want me any longer. Besides, it looks like a
change of weather, and pilots are in demand when it is foggy or blows,
at this season of the year."

"What sort of weather do you expect next?" I asked.

"The wind will work round to the south-west, and then it will be
foggy," replied the pilot, scanning the horizon.

"Can't you go to New Orleans, or remain on board till we meet a steamer
for Key West?" I suggested.

"I should be very happy to go to New Orleans with you, for there will
be no steamer for Key West for several days. But I am not a pilot for
the Mississippi River, and you will have to pay another just the same
as though I were not on board."

He named his price, besides expenses; and as it was reasonable, I
accepted it at once. My experience the night before, when I found the
Sylvania was ten miles from where I supposed she was, made me extremely
cautious. I felt entirely competent to take the steamer to the
South-east Pass of the Mississippi; but it was evident that Cornwood
had obtained control of the Islander, acting as the agent of Colonel
Shepard, and that he would not permit the Sylvania to come near her if
he could avoid it. Probably the Conch who had acted as her pilot so far
would understand the channels of the Tortugas, and could easily take
the Islander where I should not care to follow her.

The pilot-boat lay very nearly in our course, and a boat put off from
her as we approached. Captain Cayo stopped the steamer when the boat
was abreast of her. He jumped upon the rail, and told the oarsmen that
he was going to New Orleans.

"Now start her, Mr. Mate," said he to Washburn, as he crawled over the
rail to the deck.

"Now Cornwood will believe the pilot has left you," said Captain Cayo.
"The Islander is still two miles off, and I don't think her people
could see me when I crawled back over the rail."

It was a dead calm on the Gulf of Mexico, and the Sylvania wa