“But they will take them, won’t they, captain?” I cried.
“No, my lad, not they. They’ll go and shout and throw a few spears, and then go back again; but they’ll bear malice, my lad. All white folks who come in ships will be the same to them, and most likely some poor innocent boat’s crew will be speared, and all on account of the doings of these blackbird catchers.”
“But what do they do with the poor fellows?” I cried.
“Reg’larly sell ’em for slaves, though slavery’s done away with, my boy.”
“But will not the blacks rescue their friends?” I said.
“No, my lad.”
“Then we must,” I cried excitedly; and Jack Penny threw up his cap and cried “Hooray!” Gyp started to his feet and barked furiously, and Jimmy leaped in the air, came down in a squatting position, striking the deck a tremendous blow with his waddy, and shouting “Hi—wup, wup—wup,” in an increasing yell.
The captain, hardened by familiarity with such scenes, laid his hand upon my shoulder, and smiled at me kindly as he shook his head.
“No, no, my lad, that would not do.”
“Not do!” I cried, burning with indignation. “Are we to stand by and see such cruelties practised?”