The captain, knowing the value of his cargo, had induced the Poietiers to give him three small cannon and half a dozen men.
"We may get parted, and then—I don't want to feel I can make no resistance," he pleaded; and his plea was graciously acknowledged.
But the Caroline carried a cargo that was not entered on the manifest.
The captain had indulged in a little speculation of his own, and, in his eyes, that one little bit of cargo, though its weight could not have been more than a hundred and twenty pounds, was more valuable than all the merchandise put together.
As night approached, the Poietiers signaled the Caroline to keep close, or no protection could be afforded.
Captain Carter of the good ship Caroline had been cogitating for an hour or two as to whether he should not try to make his trip alone.
He wanted to reach Jamaica, and he had been already so much delayed that he was chafing at his slow progress.
So when the Poietiers ordered him to keep close, and perhaps even follow the war ship for a few days longer, Carter put his thumb to his nose and extended his fingers in a most vulgar manner.
But then, the captain of the Caroline was not a refined man.
He was young, and was a member of a good family, but he had always been a black sheep, and his own friends wondered that he had not turned pirate instead of merchant skipper.