“No, my lad; I wish I could. I am getting anxious.”
“The men are keeping a very sharp lookout, sir.”
“Oh yes; I am not afraid of that, my lad. My anxiety is for the Seafowl. It is so long since I have heard her guns, and then they were apparently a long distance away.”
“Yes, sir,” said Murray cheerfully; “but then it is a long while since we heard the slaver’s guns, and that seems to mean that the captain has silenced and perhaps—”
“Perhaps what, Mr Murray?”
“I was going to say sunk the schooner, sir; but I hope he has not done that, for the men’s sake.”
“What, on account of prize money?” replied the lieutenant. “Oh, by the way, Mr Murray, I suppose you still believe in that black fellow, Caesar?”
“Oh yes, sir, thoroughly. I’m sure he saved my life.”
“Humph! Well, I want to have faith in him, but it is hard work to trust in people sometimes. Then I get thinking a great deal about that Mr Allen. I suppose he is sincere.”
“Oh, I feel sure he is, sir. The thorough reverence the black Caesar has for him is sufficient to prove that his master is good to his people.”