Leaning forward with a smiling face, he said, "What did you clear out of my barque, you good Slocum?"
"Nigh on a thousand dollars."
"You know you lie, Slocum! you must have done better than that."
"I kin show my receipts if you come aboard," he answered in shaky tones.
"Well, I'll take your word, you sanctimonious old shark, and five hundred dollars for my share."
"Why, sartin, Captain! that's fair and square," said the other, as his sallow face lighted up, "I'll give you the dollars to-morrow morning."
"Right you are. Come to the Lick house at ten o'clock. Say, my pious friend, what would our good Father Damien think if I told him that pretty story about the six Solomon Island people you picked up at sea, and sold to a sugar planter?"
The trader's visage turned green, as with a deprecating gesture towards me he seemed to implore Hayston's silence.
"Ha! ha! don't get scared. Business matters, my lad," he said, turning to me his merry blue eyes, and patting me on the back. "Where are you staying here?"
I told him. Then as we were rising to go, speaking to me, and looking Slocum in the face, he said, "Don't have any truck with Master Slocum, he'll skin you of every dollar you've got, and like as not turn you adrift at some place you can't get away from. Isn't that so, my saintly friend?"