"Am Ah correct, sah, in supposin' yo' Cap'n Jack Benson?"
"That's my name," Jack admitted.
"Den Ah's jes' been 'roun' to de hotel, lookin' fo' yo', sah. One ob yo'
men, Mistah Sam Truax, am done took sick, an' he done sent me fo' yo'."
"Truax ill? Why, I saw him a couple of hours ago, and he looked as healthy
as a man could look," Jack replied, in astonishment.
"I reckon, sah, he's mighty po'ly now, sah," replied the mulatto. "He done
gib me money fo' to hiah a cab an' take yo' to him. Will yo' please to
come, sah?"
"Yes," agreed Jack. "Lead the way."
"T'ank yo', sah; t'ank yo', sah. Follow me, sah."
Jack's mulatto guide led him down the street a little way, then around a
corner. Here a rickety old cab with a single horse attached, waited. A
gray old darkey sat on the driver's seat.
"Step right inside, sah. We'll be dere direckly. Marse Truax'll be
powahful glad to see yo', sah."
"See here," demanded Jack, after they had driven several blocks at a good
speed, "Truax hasn't been getting into any drinking scrapes, has he?
Hasn't been getting himself arrested, has he?"
For young Benson had learned, from the night clerk at the hotel, that,
quiet and "dead" as Annapolis appears to the stranger, there are "tough"
places into which a seafaring stranger may find his way.
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