“No, massa; not now. Caesar drefful ’fraid lil bit ago. Not now. Caesar want to save Massa Allen, but not time yet, massa. Bri’sh officer wait lil while.”
“Why?” said the lieutenant sharply.
“Massa no understand. Massa go now and find Massa Huggin. Take one, two—five, ten man Bri’sh sailor; Massa Huggin got ten, twenty, forty, fifty men sword gun plenty powder shot. Plenty ’nough to kill officer and Bri’sh sailor. Plenty strong; two ship. Kill everybody; Massa Allen too. Massa no good.”
“But how do I know that my men would not be too many for this scoundrel?”
“No, not many. Not ’nuff, sah,” said the black, shaking his head.
“Then you think we had better go back to the ship and fetch more men?”
The black shook his head and smiled sadly.
“Caesar ’fraid massa get killed, sailor get killed, Caesar too get killed. Massa officer must wait.”
The lieutenant gazed at the speaker searchingly, while the black returned his keen examination without flinching.
“Why must I wait?” he said.