“Invited to the salon!” said another.
“By the Captain!”
The pampered son of a Louisiana planter tore his silk cravat as he loosened it.
“Dog of a runaway slave—flaunted in our faces!” His voice choked in his throat. His cousin quickly assented.
“Fool Captain ought to be horsewhipped!”
The fair-haired boy from Georgia emptied his glass of brandy and waved his hand drunkenly.
“Just a minute, gentlemen. No rash talk! Gotta plan—that’s it—gotta plan!”
“Plan—hell!” The dark face of the Louisianian flushed dangerously. “We’ll just throw the nigger overboard if he dares show his impertinent face!”
“Yes,” agreed his cousin. “That’ll show the damned Yankees!”
They did not really believe he would come. But, of course, they did not know Frederick Douglass.