“Oh,” said I, “that is your idea, is it? Are you not satisfied with your present berth then, Simpson?”
“No, sir, I’m not, to tell the truth of it,” answered the man. “I know that it’s rather a risky thing to say aboard of this here wessel; but the truth is that I ain’t satisfied at all, and haven’t been for a long while; not since Mr Arrowsmith—or Señor Mendouca, as he now calls hisself—took up to the piratin’ business. So long as it was just a matter of runnin’ a cargo of slaves across the Atlantic, I didn’t mind so much, for there was plenty of dollars goin’, and I didn’t see that there was much harm in it, for I don’t suppose the poor beggars is any worse off on the sugar and ’baccy plantations than they are in their own country. But when it comes to work like what’s been done to-day, I wants to be out of it; and I don’t mind sayin’ so to you straight out, Mr Dugdale, because you’re a naval hofficer, you are, sir, and of course as such you’re bound to be dead against such things as has happened since you’ve been aboard here. Besides, I’ve been a-watchin’ of you, sir—askin’ your pardon for the same, Mr Dugdale—and I’ve seen that this ship and her doin’s ain’t no more to your taste than they are to mine.”
“You are right, Simpson, they are not,” said I; “and since you have been so frank with me, I will be equally so with you. You have rightly guessed that I would gladly make my escape from this accursed brigantine, if I could; and I had quite made up my mind that if, as I fully expected, Captain Mendouca had run alongside that ship this afternoon, I would board with the rest, and then join the British crew in their defence of their own ship.”
“It’s perhaps just as well then for you, sir, and for me too, that matters was arranged different,” answered Simpson; “because, if the thing had come off as you planned it, I don’t suppose that your joinin’ of the other side would have made that much difference that they’d have beat off the skipper and his lot; and if they hadn’t, and you’d fallen alive into the hands of the skipper, he’d have—well, I don’t know what he wouldn’t have done to you; but I’m mortal sure that you wouldn’t have been alive now. But perhaps, sir, you’ve been thinkin’, as I have, that even now it mayn’t be too late to do somethin’.”
“Yes,” said I, “I have. While you have been talking to me a multitude of ideas have thronged through my mind, disconnected and vague, certainly, but still capable perhaps of being worked into shape. And I do not mind admitting to you, Simpson, that your proposal to join me in any attempt that I may be disposed to make simplifies matters a great deal. The most important factor in the problem before us is: How will yonder ship be dealt with when the Francesca’s people have done with her? Will she be destroyed, or will she be left, with those unfortunate passengers—most probably with no knowledge whatever of nautical matters—to drift about at the mercy of wind and sea, to take her chance of being fallen in with, or to founder in the first gale of wind that happens to come her way?”
“No, sir, no,” answered Simpson. “You may take your oath that Captain Mendouca won’t run the risk of leavin’ her afloat to be picked up and took into port, where her passengers could tell what tales they liked about him and his doin’s. She’ll be scuttled, sir, and left to go down with all them passengers in her, the same as that unfortunit’ Portugee brig was that we took the slaves out of. But I’ve been thinkin’, sir, that, even so, two sailor-men, like you and me, might do a good deal, with the help of the gentlemen passengers, to put together some sort of a raft that would hold all hands of us and keep us above water until somethin’ comes along and picks us up. Of course I knows quite well that it’ll be a mighty poor look-out for the strongest of us, and a dreadful bad time for the poor women-folk, to be obliged to take to a raft; but I expect they’d rather do that and take their chance of bein’ picked up than go down with the ship; and if you’re willin’ to face the job, I am too, sir, and there’s my hand on it.”
I took the fellow’s proffered hand and grasped it warmly.
“You are a good fellow, Simpson, and a true British seaman, whatever your past may have been,” said I, “and I accept your proposal, which I can see is made in perfect good faith. Now, it seems to me that all that we have to do, in the first place, is to get on board yonder ship. The question is: How is it to be done without the knowledge of any of the Francesca’s people?”
“Well, sir,” said Simpson, “I don’t think as there’ll be any great difficulty about that, so far as I’m concerned; and I don’t think there need be much with you neither, if you wouldn’t mind changing your rig and shiftin’ into some togs of mine, so as these chaps of the Francesca, won’t recognise you. Then, when the next boat comes from the ship, we’ll tumble down into her and offer to give two of the others a spell; they’ll be only too glad of the chance to get a little relief from the job of pullin’ backwards and for’ards and the handlin’ of a lot of stuff, and, once aboard the ship, we can stow ourselves out of sight until they leave her for good and all.”
“Very well,” said I, “that seems as good a plan as any, and we will try it. Let me have some of your old clothes, Simpson—a flannel shirt and a pair of canvas trousers will do—and I will shift into them at once. And there is another thing that occurs to me. If we could manage to secure a little further help it would be so much the better. Now, if I am not mistaken, a good many of the crew of yonder ship joined the Francesca this afternoon as the only means of saving their lives. We must get hold of a few of them, if we can, and, by means of a few judicious questions, find out whether they would be willing to throw in their lot with us and take their chance of ultimate escape, rather than become slavers and pirates. With only half-a-dozen stout, willing seamen a great deal might be done to better the state of affairs generally.”