“I s’pose you know by this time that you’re a lawful prise, captured by an hindependent constable of the West Indies, notwithstandin’ ye had sich safe escort and convoy all the arternoon?”
Here he chuckled, squirted more juice over the table, then dropped down on a sea-chest cleated to the deck, took off his hat, and scratched his yellowish red hair. The poor captain said not a word, but shook a great clot of blood from his brow.
“Well, now, my old hearty, the first thing for you to do is to poke out your manifest, and any other little matters of vallew ye may have stowed away; and be quick, mind ye, for you haven’t much time to sail in this ’ere craft. Howsoever, I s’pose ye can swim?”
“You’ll find the manifest and the ship’s papers there, inside that instrument-box; and all the money in the vessel is in that locker; and I trust in Heaven it may burn your hands to cinders, you devils!”
“Ho! smash my brains! keep a stopper on your jaw, or I’ll squeeze your dead carcass through that ’ere starn port.”
The fellow rose as he spoke, and, stepping up to the narrow state-cabin near by, he jerked open the upper drawer of a small bureau affair, and pulling out a canvas bag, sealed at the mouth, tossed it 31 on to the cabin table. The coin fell with the heavy dead sound peculiar to gold, and the ruffian, after taking it up again and weighing it tenderly, growled out, “This chink will do for a yapper, at any rate! So now let’s have a peep at what the cargo consists on.”
Then stepping a second time to the berth, he gave a kick to the instrument-box, the lid flew off, and diving in his fist he drew out a bundle of papers. Once more seating himself at the table beneath the swinging lamp, he clumsily undid the papers and spread them before him.
“What a blessed thing is edication,” muttered he to himself, “and what a power o’ knowledge reading ’riting does for a man!” Putting his fat stumpy finger on each line of the manuscript as he slowly began to spell out the contents, he began, “Man-i-fest of Brig ‘Martha Blunt’––Ja-cob Blunt, master:” here he paused, and, squirting more tobacco-juice over at the skipper, as if to attract his attention, he suddenly ejaculated, “Hark ye! Master Blunt, what was the name of that man-o’-war vessel as was lyin’ by you this morning?”
“The ‘Scourge,’” replied the skipper, faintly, as he shook another great drop of blood from his brow.
“The what? The ‘Scourge!’ That Yankee snake! Smash my brains! D’ye know that that ship has been a hangin’ about the north side of Cuba for ever so long, interruptin’ our trade? And you an Englishman, to go and ax him to purtect ye! take that!”