Mark shook his head, and raising his glass, carefully inspected the distant vessel.
“Yes,” he said at last; “she looks too smart fer a trader.”
“She do, sir.”
“And I don’t like to run any risks, Tom Fillot.”
“Oh Mr Vandean, sir!”
“But we’re out here to deal a deathblow at the slavery traffic.”
“To be sure we are, sir,” cried Tom Fillot, excitedly.
“And it would be cowardly to give up such a chance.”
“Cowardly—begging your pardon, sir—ain’t half bad enough word for it, Mr Vandean? sir.”
“One moment I feel that I ought not to risk it, and the next I feel that I ought, Tom,” said Mark, slowly. “Safe and sure is the motto to go upon, but—Oh, I can’t, as I am officer in command, stand still here and see that vessel go away, perhaps loaded with slaves, Tom Fillot. Wrong or right, I must do it.”