"No fear of him," replied Barlow. "He has been snoring there for the last hour. As I was going to say, a ship is to sail to-night for Australia and the Spice Islands, and the cap'n has been here a dozen times during the last few days, begging me to raise a crew for him by fair means or foul. I've got all but two aboard, and I've got them in my eye. Bob Nellis is one, and there's the other," said Barlow, pointing to the sailor before spoken of.
"Who is he?" asked Gus.
"Why, don't you know? Then it must be because he keeps his hat down over his face. If he would raise it for a moment you would see that he is old Ben Watson, your uncle's gardener. When your father got possession of the place he kicked out all the old servants, as you know, and hired niggers to fill their places. I suppose he don't want them about, to remind him of his brother-in-law, and I don't blame him. Ever since he was discharged, Ben has been layin' around with no heart to go at anything, and he owes me twenty dollars for board and grub. I've tried my best to ship him in a crew by fair means, for Ben is a good sailor, but the old fellow says he has too many years on his shoulders. But I must have him for the J. W. Smart, 'cause I can't find anybody else that is goin' to sail, and so I shall have to doctor his tea to-night."
"Drug it?" asked Gus.
"Yes; put him to sleep and take him aboard before he awakes. And now about Bob. He is going up to your house, I suppose, and if you will keep an eye on him, and get him out into the garden to-night about eight o'clock, me and my barkeeper will slip up and take him in tow, and no one will be the wiser for it. I shall make sixty dollars by shipping him and Ben, and I'll give you ten of it. What do you say?"
"It is a bargain," replied Gus, wondering at the readiness with which he accepted the villainous offer. "I will be on hand when you want me."
"You will never see him again when once he is aboard that ship," continued Barlow. "Cap'n French is the hardest ship-master that ever sailed, and when a man doesn't do to suit him, he quietly knocks him overboard. More than that, the ship belongs to old man Brock, who feeds his hands on nothin' and pays them the same. He has to promise them thirty dollars a month, for that is what they are payin' out of this port, but he always orders his skippers to treat them harshly, so that they will desert the first chance they get, and the cap'n fills their places with cheaper hands, which they can always find in foreign ports. Between the belayin'-pins which Cap'n French slings about so reckless, and the yellow fever, and the niggers among whom they are going to trade, Mr. Bob will have a lively time of it. Now, don't forget to have him out of the house to-night at eight o'clock sharp, and me and my barkeeper will do the rest. We'll just slip up there—"
Barlow suddenly paused and startled his auditor with the heaviest kind of an oath. Gus followed the direction of his gaze and saw that it rested on the sailor, who had raised his hat from his face and was looking at them with wide-open eyes. It was old Ben Watson, sure enough, and he had heard every word of the conversation.
Never in his life had Gus been more astounded and alarmed. He leaned against the counter and stared stupidly at old Ben, and even Barlow seemed to be at his wits' end. The old sailor was the only one who retained his presence of mind. Hastily putting on his hat he arose and started for the door; but his indignation got the better of his prudence, and he stopped to say a parting word to the conspirators.
"You'll kidnap me and Bob and ship us off to foreign parts against our will, will you!" he exclaimed. "Not if I know myself. I'll have the pair of you arrested in less'n an hour!"