“Ah!” ejaculated the skipper, with a deep sigh of satisfaction; “thanks to your friend Red Hand’s garrulity in his cups, Mr Fortescue, we shall now know how to deal with that precious craft. We go to sea to-morrow, and it shall be our business, gentlemen, to bring her to book; and a fine feather in our caps it will be if we should be successful.”
The first thing after breakfast, on the following morning, Captain Perry went ashore, remaining there until close upon eight bells in the afternoon watch; and when at length he came off, he looked uncommonly pleased with himself. I saw him talking animatedly with the first lieutenant for some time, and then he beckoned to me.
“I suppose, Mr Fortescue,” he said, when I joined him, “you will not have very much difficulty in identifying the Virginia should we be lucky enough to fall in with her?”
“None at all, sir,” answered I. “I believe I should be able to identify her as far as I could see her. I boarded her, you will remember, and I took full advantage of the opportunity to use my eyes. Oh, yes, I shall know her if ever I clap eyes on her again.”
“Which will be before very long, I hope,” answered the skipper. “For by a most lucky chance I have to-day obtained what I believe to be trustworthy information to the effect that she was sighted four days ago, bound for the Gaboon river—or perhaps it would be more correct to say that she was sighted steering east, and identified by the master of a brig who knows her perfectly well, and who has since arrived here, and that there is authentic information to the effect that she is this time bound for the Gaboon.”
“In that case, sir,” said I, “there ought not to be very much difficulty in falling in with her when she comes out.”
“That is what I think,” returned the skipper. “Are we quite ready to go to sea, Mr Hoskins?”
“Absolutely, sir, at a moment’s notice,” answered Hoskins.
“Very well, then, we will weigh as soon as the land-breeze springs up,” said the skipper.
And weigh we did, a little after seven o’clock that evening, securing a good offing, and clearing the shoals of Saint Ann by daybreak the next morning. We knew that it was customary for the slavers coming out of the Gulf of Guinea to endeavour to sight Cape Palmas, in order that they might obtain a good “departure” for the run across the Atlantic, also because they might usually reckon upon picking up the Trades somewhere in that neighbourhood. The skipper therefore carefully laid down upon his chart the supposititious course of the Virginia from the Gaboon to Cape Palmas, and thence onward to the Caribbean Sea; and then shaped a course to enable us to fall in with her on the latter, at a spot about one hundred miles to the westward of Palmas. Having reached this spot, we shortened sail to our three topsails, spanker, and jib, and slowly worked to windward along that course, tacking every two hours until we had worked up to within sight of the cape, and then bearing up and running off to leeward for a distance of one hundred miles again, keeping a hand aloft on the main-royal yard as look-out from dawn to dark. It was weary, anxious work; for of course our movements were being regulated by a theory that, for aught we knew to the contrary, might be all wrong; and as day succeeded day without bringing the expected sail within our ken there were not wanting among us those who denounced the skipper’s plan as foolish, and argued that the proper thing would have been to go direct to the Gaboon, and look there for the Virginia. But Captain Perry, having carefully thought the whole thing out, stuck to his guns, refusing to budge an inch from his original arrangement, in response to the hints and insinuations of those who disagreed with him. And the result proved the soundness of his theory, for on the sixteenth day of our quest, about seven bells in the afternoon watch, the look-out hailed the deck with: