“‘My word, yes,’ replied Captain Alphonse. ‘We are some ten leagues or so the westward of the islands, but we’re bearing up now, as you see, to reach them.’
“‘And what time, monsieur,’ said the ‘marquis,’ speaking louder so that some of the other niggers who were on the deck below could hear what he said. ‘Do you think it will be possible for us to land? My companions and myself, monsieur, as you can well imagine, are most anxious to get ashore as soon as possible, so that we may procure a ship to take us on to Havana.’
“‘But, yes, your anxiety is natural enough,’ responded poor Captain Alphonse, suspecting nothing from this. ‘I hope to approach near enough to Port Saint George to put you ashore some time in the afternoon.’
“‘Ohe, below there!’ cried out the Haytian in reply to this, addressing his companions in the waist, who, I noticed, were gradually edging themselves more and more aft. ‘Do you hear that, my brave boys? We are going to land at last. Get the boat ready!’
“This was evidently a signal, for he shouted out the last words in a still higher key than that in which he had been speaking.
“‘You need not hurry, my friend!’ said the captain, surprised at this order and smiling at the Haytian’s impulsiveness, as he thought it. ‘There will be plenty of time for lowering the boat when we come in sight of land.’
“‘I think differently, monsieur,’ rejoined the other, scowling and assuming an arrogant tone for the first time. ‘I say the time is Now!’
“This he yelled out at the top of his voice.
“Instantly the gang of blacks made a rush at the poop on both sides at once, and Captain Alphonse clutched at his revolver, which he had in his pocket, but was unable to get it out in time.
“Mine, however, was in my hand and ready cocked.”