Ben ceased speaking, and I, impressed with the brief history of his wrongs, remained for some time silent.
After awhile I again ventured to broach the subject that lay nearest my heart.
“But, Ben,” said I, “this is a horrid kind of life to lead; surely you do not intend to continue it?”
A shake of the head was all the answer I received.
“I could not endure it,” I continued; “I have resolved to make my escape whenever an opportunity offers. Surely you will aid me?”
“Both you and myself, lad.”
“Oh! I am so pleased.”
“Yes,” continued he, “I am tired of it, too. I have been thinking how I can leave it. This I’m determined shall be my last voyage—leastwise, in this trade. I’ve been thinking, my boy, of giving ’em the slip, and taking you along with me.”
“Oh, how glad I shall be—when may we go?”
“There lies the bother, my lad; you see there’s no place in all Africa where we could get off, or, if we did, it would only be to wander among these black savages, and likely enough get murdered by them. No; we can’t get clear of the Pandora this side the Atlantic. We must stick by her, and make the voyage; and on the far side we’ll manage it, I warrant you.”