“Captain,” he says, “it goes against my soul!” Then, he continues apologetically: “Not that I say aught against slavery, which I’ve heard chaplains and parsons prove to be right and pious by Bible text. Ay! I’ve heard them when I’ve been to church ashore, with my brother William by the Rappahannock. My kinsman Jones owns slaves; and I can see, too, that they have safer, happier lives with him than could fall to their lot had they remained savages in the wild Guinea woods. But owning slaves by the Rappahannock, where you can give them kindness and make them happy, is one thing. This carrying the tortured creatures --chained, and mad with grief!--to Jamaica is another.” Captain Denbigh refreshes himself with more rum. “It wards off the heat,” he vouchsafes, in extenuation of his partiality for the rum. Having set himself right touching rum, he takes, up the main question: “What can we do?” he asks. “You know we’re chartered for ten v’yages?” “I’m no one to argue with my captain,” responds first mate Jack Paul. “Still less do I talk of breaking charters. All I say is, it makes me heart-sore.” “Let me see!” responds Captain Denbigh, searching for an idea. “Your brother William tells me, the last time we takes in tobacco from the Jones plantation, that old William Jones is as fond o’ you as o’ him?” “That is true. He wanted me to stay ashore with him and William, and give up the sea.” “An’ why not, mate Jack?” First mate Jack Paul shrugs his shoulders, which, despite his youth, are as broad and square as his captain’s. “Because I like the sea,” says he; “and shall always like the sea.” Captain Denbigh takes more rum; after which he sits knitting his forehead into knots, in a very agony of cogitation. Finally he gives the table a great bang, at which the rum bottle jumps in alarm. “I’ve hit it!” he cries. “I knowed I would if I’d only drink rum enough. I never has a bright idea yet, I don’t get it from rum. Here, now, mate Jack; I’ll just buy you out. You don’t like the black trade, an’ you’ll like it less an’ less. It’s your readin’ books does it; that, an not drinkin rum. Howsumever, I’ll buy you out. Then you can take a merchant-ship; or--an’ you may call me no seaman if that ain’t what I’d do you sits down comfortable with your brother an’ your old kinsman Jones by the Rappahannock, an plays gentleman ashore.” While Captain Denbigh talks, the trouble fades from the face of first mate Jack Paul. “What’s that?” he cries. “You’ll buy me out?” “Ay, lad! as sure as my name’s Ed’ard Denbigh. That is, if so be you can sell, bein’ under age. I allows you can, howsumever; for you’re no one to go back on a bargain.” Having thus adjusted to his liking the legal doubt suggested, Captain Denbigh turns to the question of price. “Master Younger puts your sixth at a thousand pounds. If so be you’ll say the word, mate Jack, I’ll give you a thousand pounds.”