Robert E Leej puffed a cheroot and sipped a glass of Madiera as he watched the horrific struggle in the bay. Suddenly, an idea took bloom in his eyes and he drained the wine, heaving the stogie into the corner of his mouth. Leej stripped off his swallow-tail jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and borrowing a boat-hook from one of the crewmen, began to fish about in the gory brine. At last he had what he had sought and, dropping it into a bucket, made his way to the tavern where he found Delacroix, and his the man who had been following him, were gone. He spoke a few words to the bartender, then handed him the bucket.
Leej returned to his room, where he busied himself with cleaning and loading his two-shot Derringer pistol, and reviewing his plans for the evening. He had not been long at this when a knock was heard at the cabin door, and he opened it to usher in a steward with a rolling cart, upon which stood a silver bucket holding Spanish Cava on ice, and a large covered dish. As the steward closed the door behind him. Leej seated himself by the cart, popped the champagne, and lifted the lid of the dish, disclosing the freshest, not to mention largest, plate of calamari he had ever had the pleasure to behold.