“Well, never mind that,” said Roberts, speaking excitedly now as he scanned the slopes of the old verdure-clad hollow in which the sloop lay as if in a lake. “If we are about to lie up here for a time and go ashore and explore we shall have plenty of fun and adventure, with a bit of fighting now and then.”
“Likely enough,” said Murray.
“But I should like for us to have hit upon the place where that West Coast Yankee brought his cargoes. There’s no possibility of this being the spot?”
“One never knows,” said Murray thoughtfully.
“Too much to hope,” said his companion.
“Oh, I don’t know. We’ve been horribly unlucky, but the luck is bound to turn some time. One thing we do know for certain: that Yankee skipper brings slaves across to the West Indies.”
“Yes, we know that.”
“Well, this is one of the West Indian Islands.”
“A precious small one, though,” said Roberts in a depreciatory tone.
“What of that? We know for certain that there is the owner of a plantation here who trades in slaves, and there is nothing to prevent his having dealings with the man we want.”