“You don’t seem overpleased to have me here again,” she said before he had spoken.
Yankee Dan gave a loud grunt of protest.
“Are you going clear to the coast, and be aboard when we take ’em on, hey?” said he, with a show of sarcasm in his harsh voice.
“I’m going with you, and you may put me ashore with Aunt Mary at St. Helena, or on board some vessel bound for New York, so I can get to Uncle Henry’s. I’m not going to stay ashore here,” she answered.
Then the father turned away; the interview ended as Hawkson came up.
Fearing trouble for the vessel in her dismasted condition when she arrived, her treasure had been removed ashore, so that in case some prying man-of-war should happen to take charge on suspicion, it would be safe. This alone saved the enterprise from failure that morning, but, when the story of the brig’s rascally skipper had been related to the trader, he instantly started ashore with Mr. Gull and a couple of men, to get the gold at once from Mr. Curtis, in order that there might be no delay in getting to sea and overhauling the brig, if only to give him a lesson in trading etiquette. At this time slave-traders were not overscrupulous in their dealing, and among themselves were little better than pirates, for they would seldom hesitate to overhaul or rob each other, knowing that the slaver robbed could get no redress without admitting guilt of similar transactions.
By the time he returned, the barque was hove short, and her sails ready to sheet home, and the young lady, who had already gone below to her cabin, was not given much thought by either her father or the old skipper. As the boat drew up alongside, I noticed Mr. Curtis aboard, but he took no thought of me as he came on deck. In an instant we had hooked the boat on and whisked her on deck, and in less than five minutes we were starting out to sea before a light westerly breeze that sent us along about five knots.
I cleared the guns and loaded them all, and then a man was sent aloft to keep a lookout for a sail, which we all hoped might be the Yankee brig. We were on our course for the African coast, but might alter it if occasion offered.
The old barque sailed well with her new topmasts, and, if anything, she showed a bit faster, as her main was now a foot higher and her new-cut topsail a little deeper. Much of her fine gear was gone, but what we had purchased in Funchal was of the best quality, and we had lines enough to rig another ship. Altogether she made a good showing, and even Mr. Gull’s crew, who had eaten much goat meat, and in consequence were in prime condition, were not sorry to get back aboard her.
All day we held to the southward over an almost glassy ocean, ruffled here and there by the falling breeze, and by sunset we were rewarded by Big Jones’s yell from the foretop: “Sail dead ahead, sir.”