The sight below did not seem to horrify him.
“Slaver,” said Satan for the third time, turning his head for a moment from the objects that seemed to fascinate him.
“Pst, pst, pst!” said Carquinez. “Vel, I reckon dat is so.”
“No gold ship,” said Sellers.
“Maybe there was gold in the after-cabin,” suddenly broke in Cleary, “and the niggers broke through the bulkhead and are on top of it.”
“Where’s your bulkheads?” asked Sellers. “There was no after-cabin to the hooker. It was all one cattle boat below, with niggers for cattle.”
“That is so,” said Carquinez.
The old gentleman seemed taking his setback extraordinarily well; so, too, seemed Sellers and Cleary. They were evidently used to reverses in business, and treasure hunting was wildcat anyway, a thousand to one against the chance of a colossal fortune.
“That is so,” said Carquinez. Then he proceeded to demonstrate what the hold of a slaver was like,—men lying side by side and sometimes on top of one another. There was no after-cabin, indeed nothing, no latrines, no means of washing, nothing: just one vast sty without straw even for the human beasts to lie on.
The officers and crew slept in deckhouses; sometimes the crew had nothing to shelter them, sleeping on the bare decks.