“Why, of course I would,” said Murray proudly; and then, feeling afraid that his assertion might be looked upon as braggadocio, he hastened to add, “I—I—er—meant to say that I would try, and our brave fellows would take the prisoners.”
“Nay, nay, yew would,” said the American. “There ain’t nothing to be ashamed on in being brave, is there, mister?”
“Of course not,” said the lieutenant.
“Of course not,” said the American; “but look here, sirree, it’s no good to lose brave men by trying to do things that’s a bit too strong and starky for you.”
“What, do you mean that the schooner’s crew would be too strong for us?”
“Nay, not me, mister. Yew’d chaw them up safe. But there’s the black king; he’s got close upon a hundred fighting men, chaps with spears. He’d fight too, for though they ain’t got much brains, these niggers, he’d know you’d be going to do away with his bread and cheese, as you may say. No, sirree, I ain’t a fighting man; rubber’s my line, but I want to get hold of that bit of syle—make sewer of it, as you may say; and if I’d got that job to do I should get another boatful of men if you could. Don’t know of a British ship handy, do you?”
“Of course. My captain is off the coast not far away. You did not suppose that we came alone?”
“Oh, I didn’t know, mister. Could you bring your captain then?”
“Yes.”
“And another boat?”