“You are right, sir, it would make a lot of difference, and I’ll see what can be done,” answered Simpson. “And now, sir, shall I go and get you the togs? I s’pose that whatever we do might as well be done at once?”
“Certainly,” said I, “the sooner the better. I can see no object in delaying our movements, now that we have determined upon a definite plan.”
“All right, sir, then here goes,” answered Simpson. “I’ll be back with the duds in a jiffey.”
Simpson’s “jiffey” proved to be a pretty long one, for it was fully twenty minutes before he returned with the clothes—a thin flannel shirt that had seen its best days, and was so faded from its original colour and so thoroughly stained with tar and grease that it was difficult to say what that original colour had been, but was therefore so much the better suited to the purpose of a disguise—a pair of equally faded dungaree trousers, and a knitted worsted cap. But his delay had not been profitless, for happening to find in the forecastle two of the crew of the Bangalore, who had been compelled to join the Francesca, and who, from their dejected appearance, he conjectured were not altogether pleased or satisfied with the arrangement, he entered into conversation with them, and soon contrived to elicit from them that his conjecture was well founded. Thereupon, as there was no time to lose, he took the bold course of asking them outright whether, in the event of there being a scheme afoot on the part of others to escape from the brigantine to the ship, they would be disposed to join in it, to which they replied that they would gladly, and that indeed they had been discussing the possibilities of such an attempt when he interrupted them by his descent into the forecastle. This was enough for Simpson, who at once brought them aft to me, and I, finding them fully in earnest in their expressed desire to have nothing to do with the pirates, forthwith unfolded my plans to them, carefully directing their attention to the somewhat desperate aspect of the adventure, but at the same time pointing out to them that every additional seaman whose help we could secure added very materially to the chances of a successful issue. What I said seemed only to render them the more determined to sever their brief connection with the pirates at any cost, and they unhesitatingly declared their readiness to join me, and to implicitly obey my orders. More than this, they informed me that there were others of the Bangalore crew who, they were sure, would be equally ready with themselves, if permitted, to take part in the adventure, and they consented to hunt up as many of these men as possible at once, and to have them ready to meet me on the forecastle to discuss the matter in a quarter of an hour.
My scheme, which, prior to my conversation with Simpson, had been of the most vague and nebulous character, had now taken shape and wore so promising an appearance that I felt sanguine of its ultimate success; so without further ado I retired right aft to the wheel grating—that part of the brigantine being now quite deserted, and wrapped in total darkness save for the dim and diffused light that issued from the cabin skylight—and there, unseen, shifted into the clothes that Simpson had brought me. They were not particularly comfortable nor quite so well-savoured as I could have wished; but it was no time for ultra-squeamishness, and I was soon transformed into a very colourable imitation of a fo’c’s’le hand. This done, I went forward, past the open hatchway down which the plunder from the Bangalore was being struck, noticing with bitter distress and anger the forlorn, dejected, worn-out, and despairing attitudes of the unfortunate blacks closely huddled together on the slave-deck, their forms faintly indicated in the yellow, smoky light of the lanterns which the men were working by, and noticing too, with keen satisfaction, that most of the crew had reached that stage of intoxication wherein the victim’s whole attention is required for the conduct of his own affairs, with none to spare for those of others. Many had gone considerably beyond this stage, and were staggering about, pulling and hauling aimlessly at the first object that they could lay their hands upon, and proving far more of a hindrance than a help to their less intoxicated comrades; while there were some who had reached the final stage of bestiality, and were lying about the decks in a helpless condition of drunken stupor. Nothing more favourable for our scheme than this condition of general intoxication could possibly have happened, unless it were that Pedro was below, fully occupied in attending to his father, and was therefore the less likely to discover my absence from the brigantine until it should be too late to take any steps toward the investigation of the phenomenon; I therefore hurried to the rendezvous with a sudden feeling of elation and joyousness and confidence in the conviction that the time of release from my exceedingly uncongenial and disagreeable, if not absolutely hopeless, situation had at length arrived.
Upon reaching the forecastle-head—the appointed spot of our rendezvous—I found it tenantless; but presently a man came lounging up to me from the group of workers about the hatchway, and, after peering into my face, inquired—
“Got any ’baccy about you, mate? Mine’s down below in my chest, and I haven’t unlashed it yet. If you’ve got any, just give me a chaw, will ye, and maybe I’ll do as much for you another time.”
“I am sorry to say that I have not any,” I answered. “I do not use it except in the form of a cigar now and then. But I expect my mate Simpson on deck every moment, and I have no doubt that he will be able to accommodate you. You are one of the new hands, shipped from the Bangalore, are you not? I don’t seem to remember having seen your face before.”
“No, perhaps not, and it’s precious little you can see now, I should think, unless you’ve got cat’s eyes, and can see in the dark,” was the somewhat surly response. “Yes,” he continued, “I’m Joe Maxwell, late carpenter of the Bangalore, and—well, yes, ‘shipped’ is the word, I suppose. And pray who may you be, my buck, with your dandified talk—which, to my mind, is about as like any fo’c’s’le lingo that I ever heard as chalk is like cheese? Are all hands aboard this dashin’ rover of the same kidney as yourself?”
“Scarcely that, I think, as you seem to have already had an opportunity of judging,” I answered, laughingly, as I glanced in the direction of the hatchway. “No,” I continued, determined to sound him forthwith, as his speech and manner seemed to indicate that he was by no means satisfied with his changed lot, “I am a naval officer, and a prisoner, I suppose I must call myself, although, as you see, I have the liberty of the ship. And now, having told you thus much, I should like you to tell me candidly, Maxwell, did you join this afternoon of your own free will, or under compulsion?”