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. “How dare you!” he cried. “I’m a commission merchant. I deal in whatever I please--and I’m the American Consul!” The Captain laughed, and with a wave of his hand in farewell backed away from the rail. “That may be,” he shouted, “but this line isn’t carrying freight for General Laguerre, nor for you, neither.” He returned and made a speaking trumpet of his hands. “Tell him from me,” he shouted, mockingly, “that if he wants his sewing-machines he’d better go North and steal ‘em. Same as he stole our Nancy Miller.” The young man shook both his fists in helpless anger. “You damned banana trader,” he shrieked, “you’ll lose your license for this. I’ll fix you for this. I’ll dirty your card for you, you pirate!” The Captain flung himself far over the rail. He did not need a speaking trumpet now--his voice would have carried above the tumult of a hurricane. “You’ll what?” he roared. “You’ll dirty my card, you thieving filibuster? Do you know what I’ll do to you? I’ll have your tin sign taken away from you, before I touch this port again. You’ll see--you--you--” he ended impotently for lack of epithets, but continued in eloquent pantomime to wave his arms. With an oath the young man recognized defeat, and shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, you go to the devil,” he shouted, and turned away. He saw me observing him, and as I was the only person present who looked as though he understood English, he grinned at me sheepishly, and nodded. “I don’t care for him,” he said. “He can’t frighten me.” I considered this as equivalent to an introduction. “You are the United States Consul?” I asked. The young man nodded briskly. “Yes; I am. Where do you come from?” “Dobbs Ferry, near New York,” I answered. “I’d---I’d like to have a talk with you, when you are not busy.”