They went aft together talking, and then descended to the cabin, when Bob Howlett hurried up.
“Why, you’re holding quite a levee, old chap. I want to introduce two gentlemen to you, only I don’t know about bringing them on the quarter-deck. All right, I will. It can be to move your chair.”
Before Mark could say a word, the lad was off, and a minute later he returned with a couple of black sailors in white duck shirt and trousers—big built, fierce-looking fellows, whose black faces, hands, and feet showed strangely in contact with their snowy clothes.
They followed Bob Howlett on deck and to the chair occupied by Mark, stopping at a sign given by the midshipman who led them up.
“Here we are,” he said. “You two don’t understand a word I say, and I can’t make out a word of yours, so we’re free and equal there. Now, look here, this is Captain Vandean, and I’m Captain Howlett. That is, we shall be some day. Now then, listen.”
The two blacks gazed at him intently, as if trying hard to understand him.
“This, I say, is Captain Vandean, and I’m Captain Howlett, and we came in the boat and saved your lives when you were pitched overboard out of the slaver.”
“Are these the two men?” said Mark, eagerly.
“Right, my lord. These are they. I’ve had ’em holy-stoned and fresh painted. They seemed to want to stay, and the skipper said as he was short-handed he’d give ’em a trial. Of course, I took their parts; and I said to Maitland—”
“Yes, what did you say to Maitland, Mr Howlett?” said the captain, who had returned unobserved.