Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the MidshipmanKingston, William Henry Giles
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Salt Water: The Sea Life and Adventures of Neil D'Arcy the Midshipman
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Midshipmen -- Juvenile fiction; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction
"We will see about that," he remarked. "You might find us sometimes in
a humour when there would not be much doubt about the matter. Your men
are safe enough, as they will doubtless join us, and three stout hands
will be welcome. You may think yourself fortunate, if you ever set foot
ashore alive."
I saw Jack, who was listening, put his tongue in his cheek, as much as
to say, "Do not reckon on my joining your villainous crew." I had
remarked that the captain of the slaver, for such I guessed the little
man to be, improved in his way of speaking English as he proceeded, and
I therefore warned Jack and the others to be careful what they said,
lest they should offend him. After this conversation we were left
alone, and sitting down on deck, I was very soon fast asleep. I was
awoke by a man bringing me a mess of some sort to eat, and when I had
devoured it I should have fallen asleep again, but the captain came up
and told me that I might turn into a spare cabin on deck. Taking off my
clothes, I threw myself on the bed, and slept without moving till the
grey light of dawn came in at the scuttle. I was awoke by a loud
jabbering and swearing, and presently the sound of a gun came booming
over the water. There was then the noise of blocks creaking and ropes
rattling, denoting that more sail was being made on the vessel. I
dressed quickly and opened the door of my cabin, but scarcely had I
stepped out on deck when my shoulder was roughly seized by the captain
of the slaver, while with his other hand he pointed to a large brig
about three miles off, under all sail, standing directly for our
larboard quarter.
"What craft is that?" he asked, fiercely. "Your men say they do not
know her. Do you?"
I looked again. I had no doubt she was the _Opossum_. "If I am not
mistaken, she is the ship to which I belong," I replied, calmly.
"Is she fast?" he asked.
"She is reputed so," I answered. "But I doubt it she is so fast as this
vessel."
"For your sakes, as well as for ours, it is to be hoped not," he
observed, with a grin which I thought perfectly demoniacal. "If she
overhauls us, we shall be obliged to put into execution a trick we play
at times, when too hotly pursued by your cruisers; only, instead of
expending our negroes, who are valuable, we shall be compelled to make
use of you and your people. It will be happy for you, if there are no
sharks ready to grab you before your ship lowers a boat to pick you up.
You understand me?"
I did, too well. The slavers, when hotly pressed by a cruiser, will
throw overboard some of their blacks, one by one, lashed to something to
float them, trusting that the humanity of the British commander will
induce him to heave-to, and to pick them up, although thus delaying him
in his chase.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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