Cupid grinned. “Him one Eboe man,” he answered, “employed by dem Portugee to cook for and look after dem captain’s house. He lib for die, one time now; and ’cause I been good to him, and gib him plenty drink when he thirsty, he tell me to-day one t’ing dat I t’ink de captain be glad to know. He say dat very soon—perhaps to-morrow or next day, or de day after—one big cauffle of slabe most likely comin’ here for be ship away from de coas’; and now dat he am goin’ to die he feel sorry for dem slabe and feel glad if dem was set free.”
“Whew!” I whistled. “That is a bit of news well worth knowing—if it can be relied upon. Do you believe that the fellow is telling the truth, Cupid?”
“Cartain, Mr Fortescue, sar,” answered the Krooboy, with conviction. “He lib for die now; what he want to tell me lie for? He no want debbil to come after him and say, ‘Hi, you M’Pandala, why you tell dem white men lie about slabe cauffle comin’ down to de coas’? You come along wid me, sar!’ No, he not want dat, for cartain.”
“When did he tell you this, Cupid?” I demanded.
“’Bout two hour ago,” answered Cupid. “He say to me, ‘Cupid, I lib for die to-night, and when you come on duty to-morrow you find me gone. So I want to tell you somet’ing now, before it too late.’ And den he tell me de news, Mr Fortescue, sar, just as I tell it to you, only in de Eboe language, which I understand, bein’ well educate.”
“All right,” said I. “In that case you had better come with me at once to the captain, and we will tell him the yarn. The sooner he hears it the better. Did he tell you where the cauffle was coming from, and which way?”
“He say,” answered Cupid, “dat dem cauffle am comin’ down from de Bakota country, where ’most all de slabe sent from dis place come from; and dere is only one way for dem to come here, t’rough de bush ober de oder side ob de water. Den dey bring dem across to de island in dem big flat-bottom punt dat lay moored up by de top end ob de wharf.”
We found the captain in the store with Mr Futtock, the boatswain, overhauling the various articles salved from the wreck, and as soon as he had seen all that he desired, and was ready to leave the building, I got hold of him and repeated the yarn that Cupid had spun to me, the Krooboy confirming and elaborating my statement from time to time as I went on, and answering such questions as the skipper put to him. When at length we had brought the yarn to an end the captain stood for some minutes wrapped in deep thought, and then said—
“This is a very valuable piece of information that you have managed to pick up, Cupid: and if it should prove to be well founded I will not forget that we owe it to you. It is too late now, Mr Fortescue, to do anything in the matter to-night, for it will be dark in less than half an hour; but the first thing to-morrow morning you and Cupid here had better take the dinghy, pull across to the mainland, and endeavour to find the road by which the cauffle will come—there ought not to be very much difficulty in doing that, I should think. And, having found it, it will be well for the pair of you to proceed along the road on the look-out for some suitable spot at which to ambush the party, after which the rest should be easy. There is, however, another matter that needs consideration. How are we to ascertain the precise moment at which to expect the arrival of the slave-dealers? Because it will be hardly desirable to take a party out, day after day, and keep them in the bush all day waiting for the cauffle to come along. We are all doing excellently well here; but two or three days spent in the bush would very possibly mean half the party being down with fever.”
Here Cupid, bursting with pride and importance at finding himself, as it were, a member of a council over which the captain was presiding, struck in—