east idea. I inquired how the passengers were getting
on, and Lonsdale told me he thought they were in some kind of a
quarrel."

"You don't spend any of your time in the cabin, do you, Captain
Blastblow?" asked the owner.

"I haven't had time even to come into it on this trip, though I intend
to go through it every day, to see that everything is in order. I have
had all I could do the last week to look out for the vessel, with two
heavy gales and plenty of fog," replied the captain. "I had to make a
harbor at Matanzas Inlet, and again at Tavernier's, for I was afraid
this little craft would roll her engine out of her."

"We kept on through the whole of it Friday night," I added.

"You were outside of the reef, and you could not make a harbor,"
retorted Captain Blastblow. "But I got to Key West two hours before you
did."

"You did not go to the assistance of a wrecked bark as I did, and land
her ship's company in Key West," I replied.

The captain of the Islander wanted to know about the wreck; and at
another time I told him all about it. We were too much concerned in
verifying our theory in relation to the robbery in Jacksonville to
agree to any long digression.

"Is the steward the only person who has been a constant visitor to the
cabin?" I asked.

"Gibbs, the waiter, did all the work in the cabin; and he must have
seen more of the passengers than even the steward," replied the
captain.

"Where is Gibbs?"

"Probably on deck, or asleep in some corner."

"Perhaps we had better call the steward and waiter," suggested Colonel
Shepard.

The captain went to the head of the companion-way, and called the
steward. Mr. Lonsdale had not spent much time in the cabin, though he
slept in one of the berths abaft the state-rooms. He confirmed the
statement of the captain that there had been a great deal of earnest
conversation between the Floridian and the "young swell." He never
listened to private conversation, and he had not the remotest idea what
they were talking about. Perhaps Gibbs, the waiter, might know more
about the matter than he did.

Gibbs was found to be fast asleep on a sofa in the after part of the
cabin. He knew nothing at all about what had happened since the
Islander came into the river, and appeared to be not a little surprised
when he saw the owner and myself. He was a light Mulatto, a very
good-looking fellow, and I judged that he was intelligent.

"Where are the passengers, Gibbs?" asked Ca