“Annapolis is more of a place to see by daylight, I reckon,” suggested Hal.  “How about that sleep, Jack?”

“The greatest fun, by night, I guess, consists in finding a drug-store and spending some of our loose change on ice cream sodas,” laughed the young submarine skipper.

This done, they found their way to the Maryland House.  Jack and Hal engaged a room together, Eph and Williamson taking the adjoining one.

“As for me, in an exciting place like this,” grimaced Eph, “I’m off for bed.”

Williamson followed him upstairs.  For some minutes Hal sat with his chum in the hotel office.  Then Jack went over and talked with the night clerk for a few moments.

“There’s a place near here, Hal, where a fellow can get an oyster fry,” Benson explained, returning to his chum.  “With that information came the discovery that I have an appetite.  Come and join me?”

“No,” gaped Hal.  “I reckon I’ll go up and turn in.”

“I’ll be along in half an hour, then.”

Jack found the oyster house readily.  As he entered the little, not over-clean place, he found himself the only customer.  He gave his order, then picked up the local daily paper.  As he ate, Jack found himself yawning.  The drowsiness of Annapolis by night was coming upon him.  Little did he dream how soon he was to discover that Annapolis, in some of its parts, can be lively enough.

As he paid his bill and stepped to the street, a young mulatto hurried up to him.

“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.

“No, sah; no, sah,” protested the mulatto.  “Marse Truax done got sick right and proper.”