“Exactly. I want the men to go below and have a good rest. Poor lads! they have been slaves.”
“To save slaves, sir; but beg pardon, sir; you won’ be offended?”
“Offended? No, Tom Fillot; you’ve been too good a friend,” cried the midshipman, eagerly. “What were you going to say?”
“Only this, sir. What we’re most feared of is the Yankee skipper coming back!”
“Of course.”
“Then why not strengthen the watch, sir?”
“How? I wish I could.”
“Oh, I’ll soon show you how, sir. You get Soup and Taters, and make ’em understand what you want, and it will be all right.”
“But what do I want, Tom?”
“I’ll show you, sir, and I think you can make ’em understand. Tell ’em to pick out half-a-dozen of the strongest young blacks, and we’ll give ’em a cutlash and a belt apiece, and set ’em to keep guard by the schooner’s side.”