“Look here, sir,” said the lieutenant, “I have no doubt about the possibility of your being helped by the British Government to take possession of such a tract after we have done with it.”
“Why, you don’t mean, Mister Chief Officer, that you will let your British Lion put his paw upon it and stick to it till you’ve done with it, as you say?”
“No, no, no,” said the lieutenant, smiling. “I mean that the British Lion will put its paw upon the horrible settlement in this way and will root out the traffic, and we shall only be too glad to encourage the rise of a peaceful honest culture such as you are carrying on.”
“You mean then that you’ll root out the slaves and burn the chief’s town?”
“Most certainly,” said the lieutenant. “And help me to get hold of that there land?”
“I believe I may promise that.”
“And take care that the Portygee slaver cock has his comb cut so as he dursen’t meddle with me?”
“I feel sure that all this will follow if you help us to capture the slaver, and point out where the abominable traffic is carried on.”
“Shake on it,” said the American, thrusting out a thin yellow hand with unpleasantly long nails.
“Shake hands upon the compact?” said the lieutenant good-humouredly. “Very good;” and he gave the yellow hand a good manly grip.