"You know the schooner? Are you sure, Sam? What was she—a pirate?"
"No, sah; a slaver, sah," he sniffed the air. "Ah kin smell dem niggers right now, sah. Ah, suah reckon dars a bunch o' ded ones under dem hatches right dis minute—you white men smell dat odor?"
"I certainly smell something unpleasant enough. This is the Santa Marie; the name is on the stern of that boat yonder. When did you serve aboard here?"
"Three years back, sah, frum Habana to der African coast; Ah didn't want no more dat sorter sailorin'."
"But what could have happened? The boats are all in place, but no crew, I never saw anything like it at sea."
Schmitt's hand fell heavily on my sleeve and I glanced aside into his stolid face.
"Der's a feller on ther gratin' amidships, Captain," he said pointing aft. "But I just bet I know vat wus der trouble."
"What man?"
"Cholera," he whispered, "ve haf boarded a death ship."