"I, for one, don't propose to take the consequences," I ventured to say; for, though I had not said much thus far, I was decidedly in favor of an aggressive policy.
"What do you think we ought to do?" demanded Baxter.
"Take the bark!" I replied emphatically, when I had satisfied myself that no one was within hearing except our own party.
"That's just my idea," responded Baxter, bringing his fist down upon the windlass to prove that he was in earnest. "I don't know what there is in the hold, but I'll bet there is everything used in the slave trade—the rice, the water, and the irons. If we should be overhauled by a British or an American vessel, we should be captured, and sent into an English or a United States port. If we are not hung, we shall lose our wages, and be sent to prison."
"That's it!" exclaimed Sanderson.
"Our papers show that we are bound for Palermo, and they would condemn us, if the stuff in the hold didn't. I'll never help carry a nigger across the ocean, if I can help it, and I'll fight an honest fight, too, to keep from doing it. I don't believe in fastening the door with a biled parsnip."
Baxter was earnest and eloquent, and I honored him for his noble and humane sentiments. His speech stiffened the backs of those who were wavering. Twelve of us were of one mind, and we were sure that York, the second mate, was with us, which made a majority. Three of the crew still remained doubtful, ready to go with whichever proved to be the winning side. Their very position showed them to be weak, and of not much value to either party.
"We are all of one mind," said Sanderson; "but what can we do? It isn't an easy thing to stand up against the officers, who are provided with fire-arms."
"Never mind their fire-arms. Truth and justice are on our side, and they will do us more good than all the guns and pistols that were ever invented."
"That's all very pretty, but it don't always work so."