“Why didn’t you heave-to when I ordered you,” he said, “and so save all this trouble and worry?”
“Because,” replied Captain Dunning drily, “I’m not in the habit of obeying orders until I know that he who gives ’em has a right to do so. But ’tis a pity to waste time talking about such trifles when the craft you are in search of is not very far away at this moment.”
“What mean you, sir?” inquired the captain of the cruiser quickly.
“I mean that yonder vessel, scarcely visible now on the lee bow, is the slaver, in all likelihood.”
The captain gave but one hasty glance in the direction pointed to by Captain Dunning, and next moment he was over the side of the ship, and the boat was flying swiftly towards his vessel. The rapid orders given on board the cruiser soon after, showed that her commander was eagerly in pursuit of the strange vessel ahead, and the flash and report of a couple of guns proved that he was again giving orders in his somewhat peremptory style.
When daylight appeared, Captain Dunning was still on deck, and Glynn Proctor stood by the wheel. The post of the latter, however, was a sinecure, as the wind had again fallen. When the sun rose it revealed the three vessels lying becalmed within a short distance of each other and several miles off shore.
“So, so,” exclaimed the captain, taking the glass and examining the other vessels. “I see it’s all up with the slaver. Serves him right; don’t it, Glynn?”
“It does,” replied Glynn emphatically. “I hope they will all be hanged. Isn’t that the usual way of serving these fellows out?”
“Well, not exactly, lad. They don’t go quite that length—more’s the pity; if they did, there would be less slave-trading; but the rascals will lose both ship and cargo.”
“I wonder,” said Glynn, “how they can afford to carry on the trade when they lose so many ships as I am told they do every year.”