There we remained for four or five hours, during which the wind and the sea went down very fast, and the boat no longer took in water; but we had been all too much alarmed with the danger in which we had been, to like to continue our voyage in her, and as we thought that we could now go alongside with safety, we hailed again, and asked permission. After some parleying they threw us a rope, which we made fast to the boat, and lowered our sail, keeping off on a broad sheer, as there still was a great deal of sea. They then entered into conversation with us. I told them all that had happened, and inquired where the brig was bound to.
They replied, to James Town, Virginia. I asked them if they could give us a passage there, as we were afraid to proceed in our boat; or if not, would they see us safe into New Providence.
The captain then came forward. He was a very dark man, dark as a mulatto, with keen small eyes, and a hooked nose. I never beheld a more deformed and repulsive countenance.
He said that he could not go to New Providence, as it was out of his way, and that we might easily get there ourselves if we thought proper.
I replied, that the boat was not sufficiently large and seaworthy, and that we had already nearly gone down, and if another gale should come on, we certainly should founder, and again requested that he would take us on board.
“Have you any money to pay for your passage?” inquired he.
“Why,” said I, “common charity and the feelings of a seaman towards sailors in distress should be sufficient to induce you to take us on board, and not leave us to perish; but if you require money,” I replied, “we have more than sufficient to satisfy you.”
“How much?” screamed out a lad of about fourteen, who was the very image of the captain in miniature.
I did not reply to this question, and the captain then said, “What do you propose to do with the boat?”
“Let her go adrift, to be sure,” replied I.