Let these matters be as they would, by ten o’clock on the night of the
day our tale commences, the town of Newport was as still as though it
did not contain a living soul. Watchmen there were none; for roguery
had not yet begun to thrive openly in the provinces. When, therefore,
Wilder and his two companions issued, at that hour, from their place of
retirement into the empty streets, they found them as still as if man
had never trod there. Not a candle was to be seen, nor the smallest
evidence of human life to be heard. It would seem our adventurers knew
their errand well; for, instead of knocking up any of the drowsy
publicans to demand admission, they held their way steadily to the
water’s side; Wilder leading, Fid coming next, and Scipio, in
conformity to all usage, bringing up the rear, in his ordinary, quiet,
submissive manner.
At the margin of the water they found several small boats, moored under
the shelter of a neighbouring wharf. Wilder gave his companions their
directions, and walked to a place convenient for embarking. After
waiting the necessary time, the bows of two boats came to the land at
the same moment, one of which was governed by the hands of the negro,
and the other by those of Fid.
“How’s this?” demanded Wilder; “Is not one enough? There is some
mistake between you.”
“No mistake at all,” responded Dick, suffering his oar to float on its
blade, and running his fingers into his hair, as if he was content with
his achievement “no more mistake than there is in taking the sun on a
clear day and in smooth water. Guinea is in the boat you hired; but a
bad bargain you made of it, as I thought at the time; and so, as
‘better late than never’ is my rule, I have just been casting an eye
over all the craft; if this is not the tightest and fastest rowing
clipper of them all, then am I no judge; and yet the parish priest
would tell you, if he were here, that my father was a boat-builder, ay,
and swear it too; that is to say, if you paid him well for the same.”
“Fellow,” returned Wilder, angrily, “you will one day induce me to turn
you adrift. Return the boat to the place where you found it, and see it
secured in the same manner as before.”
“Turn me adrift!” deliberately repeated Fid, “that would be cutting all
your weather lanyards at one blow, master Harry. Little good would come
of Scipio Africa and you, after I should part company. Have you ever
fairly logg’d the time we have sailed together?”
“Ay, have I; but it is possible to break even a friendship of twenty
years.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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