“By George, shipmate,” said Williams, “you’re coming rather _too_ near. Either I’ve fallen very low in your estimation, or your notions of negro courage have got up a buttonhole too high. Now I more than ever wish I’d been on board of that luckless craft. I’d have given ye practical evidence of the truth of my theory. I don’t doubt there’s some difference in being at sea. But a nigger’s a nigger, on sea or land; and is a coward, find him where you will; a drop of blood from one on ’em will skeer a hundred. A knock on the nose, or a kick on the shin, will tame the wildest ‘_darkey_’ you can fetch me. I say again, and will stand by it, I could, with half a dozen good men, put the whole nineteen on ’em in irons, and have carried them safe to New Orleans too. Mind, I don’t blame you; but I do say, and every gentleman here will bear me out in it, that the fault was somewhere, or them niggers would never have got off as they have done. For my part I feel ashamed to have the idea go abroad, that a ship-load of slaves can’t be safely taken from Richmond to New Orleans. I should like, merely to redeem the character of Virginia sailors, to take charge of a ship-load on ’em to-morrow.” Williams went on in this strain, occasionally casting an imploring glance at the company for applause for his wit, and sympathy for his contempt of negro courage. He had, evidently, however, waked up the wrong passenger; for besides being in the right, his opponent carried that in his eye which marked him a man not to be trifled with. “Well, sir,” said the sturdy mate, “you can select your own method for distinguishing yourself;—the path of ambition in this direction is quite open to you in Virginia, and I’ve no doubt that you will be highly appreciated and compensated for all your valiant achievements in that line; but, for myself, while I do not profess to be a giant, I have resolved never to set my foot on the deck of a slave ship, either as officer, or common sailor again; I have got enough of it.” “Indeed! indeed!” exclaimed Williams, derisively. “Yes, _indeed_,” echoed the mate; “but don’t misunderstand me. It is not the high value that I set upon my life that makes me say what I have said; yet I’m resolved never to endanger my life again in a cause which my conscience does not approve. I dare say _here_ what many men _feel_, but _dare not speak_, that this whole slave-trading business is a disgrace and scandal to Old Virginia.” “Hold! hold on! shipmate,” said Williams, “I hardly thought you’d have shown your colours so soon,—I’ll be hanged if you’re not as good an abolitionist as Garrison himself.” The mate now rose from his chair, manifesting some excitement. “What do you mean, sir,” said he, in a commanding tone. “_That man does not live who shall offer me an insult with impunity._”