“They said the captain bought her; he seemed to have money enough. She was an old condemned fisherman; if we pumped her out dry at night, the water would be up to the cuddy floor in the morning.”
“Where did they belong?”
“I don’t know, sir; the captain was Portuguese; his name was Antonio. They had all been together in a slaver, and the captain was mate of her; and from things they used to say, I think they must have been pirates.”
“How did they treat you?”
“They treated me very well when they were sober, but when they were drunk I used to be afraid they would kill me. They would hold me, and spit tobacco juice in my eyes, and pour liquor down my throat, and make me drunk, which was the worst of all, for I had promised my mother I would never drink.”
“If they poured it down your throat against your will, that wasn’t breaking your promise,” said Sally.
“One night I was so afraid of them that I jumped overboard and swam under the stern, holding on to the rudder; and I heard them talking, and the captain began to cry and take on at a great rate. After they had gone to sleep, I swam to the cable and got on board.”
“Why didn’t you swim ashore?”
“It was too far; we were way off on the fishing ground; the water was cold, and I should have been chilled to death. My mother, before she died, told me to read the Bible, and pray to God when trouble came, and He would take care of me; but I think He must have forgotten me, for though I have prayed to Him every day, I have found nothing but misery ever since she died; and now I’m friendless and alone in a strange land.”
“No, you ain’t!” cried Sally, drawing him towards her, and kissing his forehead, “for I will be a mother to you.”