“Same build, sir; same rig, sir. Might have been built up the same river, but it arn’t the one we saw that day, sir—Wish it was!”
“There, Murray, what do you say now?”
“That I didn’t think it possible that I could have been so deceived. Would it be possible that it could have been built by the same shipwright, sir?”
“Quite, my lad; and it is quite possible that we may come across a schooner or two built just like the one we saw escape. There is no doubt that many slaving schooners are built in these islands especially for the trade. Look out, my lads, and don’t miss anything. There may be one of them moored safely in a snug creek.—What was that?”
“Nigger, sir,” said Tom May. “I just ketched sight of him squinting at us among the trees. There he is again, sir.”
This time Roberts had caught sight of a black figure wearing the very simple costume of a pair of loose cotton drawers, his round woolly head covered with a broad-brimmed hat formed of extremely thin strips of thin cane.
“Scared at us,” said the sailor, for as the cutter was rowed alongside of the lugger, the black darted out of sight, but, evidently curious to know what was going on and the object of the strangers, he peered out again.
“Ahoy there!” shouted one of the sailors.
That was enough. The black disappeared once more, but only for a few moments before he was peeping again.
“You hail him this time, Mr Murray,” cried the lieutenant.