The young man rushed through the crowd, jostling the native Indians
and negro soldiers, and shrieked at the departing vessel.

"Stop!" he screamed, "stop! stop her!"

He recognized Captain Leeds on the bridge, and, running along the
pierhead until he was just below it, waved wildly at him.

"Where's my freight?" he cried. "My freight! You haven't put off my
freight."

Captain Leeds folded his arms comfortably upon the rail, and regarded
the young man calmly and with an expression of amusement.

"Where are my sewing-machines?" the young man demanded. "Where are the
sewing-machines invoiced me by this steamer?"

"Sewing-machines, Mr. Aiken?" the Captain answered. "I left your
sewing-machines in New Orleans."

"You what?" shrieked the young man. "You left them?"

"I left them sitting on the company's levee," the Captain continued,
calmly. "The revenue officers have 'em by now, Mr. Aiken. Some parties
said they weren't sewing-machines at all. They said you were acting
for Laguerre."

The ship was slowly drawing away. The young man stretched out one arm
as though to detain her, and danced frantically along the stringhead.