The papers were examined, and, to the officer’s disappointment, proved the truth of the skipper’s story.
“Now, if you please, we’ll have a look below, sir,” said the lieutenant.
“Very good,” said the skipper; and he hailed his men to open the hatches. “You won’t find any rum puncheons, captain,” he said.
“I do not expect to, sir; but I must be sure about your fittings below. This schooner has not been heavily rigged like this for nothing.”
“Course she arn’t, sir. I take it that she was rigged under my eyes on purpose to be a smart sailer worked by a smart crew. But my fittings? Here, I’ve got it at last: you’re one of the Navy ships on the station to put down the slave-trade.”
“Yes,” said the lieutenant shortly.
“Then good luck to you, sir! Hoist off those hatches my lad; the officer thinks we’re fitted up below for the blackbird trade. No, no, no, sir. There, send your men below, or go yourself, and I’ll come with you. You’ve got the wrong pig by the ear this time, and you ought to be off the coast river yonder where they pick up their cargoes. No, sir, I don’t do that trade.”
The lieutenant was soon thoroughly satisfied that a mistake had been made, and directly after, to his satisfaction, the skipper asked whether the captain would favour him with a small supply of medicine for his crew.
“I’m about run out of quinine stuff,” he said. “Some of my chaps had a touch or two of fever, and we’re going amongst it again. It would be an act of kindness, sir, and make up for what has been rather rough treatment.”
“You’d better come on board with me, and I’ve no doubt that the captain will see that you have what is necessary; and he will be as apologetic as I am now for what has been an unpleasant duty.”