“No; they’ll soon pick up. We’ve had a rough crossing,” said the slaver captain, “and the quarters are a bit close. We ran short of water too, and a tidy lot died, and made the others bad. You give ’em time, and that lot ’ll turn out as cheap as anything you ever bought. You should have seen them when they first came aboard—lively and spry as could be. Have the other two. Hi! Below there!” he continued, as he went to the open hold, and boy-like I stepped forward, full of curiosity, to look down too.
But I started back in horror, as a hot puff of the revolting odour I had previously noticed came up from below.
“Ah, not very sweet, youngster,” said the slaver captain, with a laugh. “Going to brimstone it out well as soon as I’ve made a clearance. Got two more, haven’t you?”
“Ay,” came up in a growl.
“Man and woman, eh?”
“Boy and a man,” came up.
“Send ’em on deck.”
There was a pause, during which I heard from below—“Now then! Up with you!” and the sound of blows, which made me draw a long breath, and I was going back once more to the hold when I felt my father’s hand upon my shoulder, and saw as I looked up that he was deadly pale.
“Hoist ’em up there!” shouted the captain, and a rope rove through a block was lowered down.
“How can you join in this cursed business, Preston?” said my father in a low tone to our neighbour.