“It’s cruel! It’s outrageous!” cried Don, angrily.
“But here we are, and—what’s that there noise?” said Jem, as a good deal of shouting and trampling was heard on deck. Then there was a series of thumps and more trampling and loud orders.
“Are they bringing some more poor wretches on board, Jem?”
“Dunno. Don’t think so. Say, Mas’ Don, I often heared tell of the press-gang, and men being took; but I didn’t know it was so bad as this.”
“Wait till morning, Jem, and I hope we shall get justice done to us.”
“Then they’ll have to do it sharp, for it’s morning now, though it’s so dark down here, and I thought we were moving; can’t you feel?”
Jem was quite right; the sloop was under weigh. Morning had broken some time; and at noon that day, the hope of being set at liberty was growing extremely small, for the ship was in full sail, and going due west.