“Oh! here you are, Hawkesley!” he exclaimed. “I was looking for you, and began to fear that you had met with a mishap. Do me the favour to step below and see if you can discover anything of Mr Austin.”
“I have already once been below with that object, sir,” I replied; “but, discovering this man—Le Breton as he calls himself—acting in a very suspicious manner, I deemed it my duty to see him safe on deck before proceeding further in my quest.”
“What was he doing?” asked the skipper sharply.
“I vill tell you, sare, vat I was doing,” interrupted Le Breton recklessly. “I vas on my vay to ze soute aux poudres to blow you and all ze people to ze devil to keep company wiz your inqueezatif first leftenant. And I would have done eet, too, but for zat pestilent midshipman, who have ze gripe of ze devil himself. Peste! you Eengleesh, you are like ze bouledogue, ven you take hold you not nevare let go again.”
“There, Hawkesley, what do you think of that for a compliment?” laughed the skipper. “So, monsieur,” he resumed, “you were about to blow us up, eh? Very kind of you, I’m sure. Perhaps you will increase our obligation to you by informing me what you have done with Mr Austin?”
“Done wiz him!” reiterated Le Breton with a diabolical sneer. “Why, I have sent him to ze bottom of ze creek, where I would have sent you all if you had not been too cautious to accept my polite invitation.”
“Do I understand you to mean that you have murdered him?” thundered the skipper.
“Yes,” was the reckless answer; “drowned him or murdered him, call it what you will.”
“You treacherous scoundrel!” ejaculated the skipper hoarsely; “you shall be made to bitterly account for this unprovoked outrage; clap him in irons,” turning to the master-at-arms, who happened to be close at hand. “Poor Austin!” he continued. “Your suspicions, Hawkesley, have proved only too correct; the craft is, unquestionably, a slaver—or worse. We must have her thoroughly overhauled; possibly some documents of great value to us may be found stowed away somewhere or other. I’ll see to it at once.” And he forthwith dived below.
The prisoners having been secured, the dead and wounded were next attended to, the former being lashed up in their hammocks ready for burial, whilst the latter were carefully conveyed below to receive such attention as the surgeon and his assistant could bestow. The brig’s loss was very severe, sixteen of her men having been killed and twenty-two wounded—principally by our final broadside—out of a total of sixty hands. Our own loss was light, considering the determination with which the enemy had fought, amounting to only eleven wounded. As soon as a sufficiency of hands could be spared for the purpose, the brig’s square canvas was furled, a prize crew was told off to take charge of her, and the two craft then made sail in company—the brig under her fore-and-aft canvas only—for the anchorage under Padron Point, where we brought up about a couple of hours later. Captain Vernon then returned to the Daphne in the brig’s gig, bringing with him a bundle of papers, and leaving Smellie in charge of the prize; an anchor-watch was set, and all hands then turned in, pretty well tired but highly elated at the result of our evening’s work.