“Shut up, ye square-head. Keep silence when men are speakin’, or I’ll be fer whollopin’ ye the minit we hit the beach,” growled Martin.
Then they rowed on in the heat without a word, the regular clank of the oar-locks sounding over the glassy surface of the stream with the regularity of the ticking of a clock.
We ran the boat up near the “factory,” and the villainous Guinea in charge brought down the last instalment of the slaves. Some of them were young girls barely in their teens, but all without any clothing whatever. The sun would have flayed a white man and cooked him to death in half an hour, but they appeared not to suffer with the heat. Some of the girls were made to spring into the river, with a line attached, in order that they might get a last bath before entering the hell in store for them. One tried to remain under water and drown herself; at least the Guinea feared that was her design, for he hauled her in hand over hand, and administered several whacks to brace her up, while I sat and tried to invent some new opprobrious epithet to call him, finally exhausting the English language without apparent effect.
One girl, who had left behind her brother and relatives, on account of their not coming up to Yankee Dan’s standard of fitness for a middle passage, was tearful and sad. This poor creature was flung into the water, and held by a strapping black buck, who used a bunch of grass to scrub her clean. Her piteous screams had no effect on him, so, when my patience was quite exhausted by the heat, I seized an oar. He was bending over, and wore nothing but a gee-string. The swing of the oar landed fair on his buttocks with all the weight and strength I could put into it, and he shot forward with a crack, making a very creditable dive into deep water. It was only because payment had not been complete that bloodshed was averted when he arose, for he made straight for his rifle, which had to be forced from him by half a dozen pirates as fierce and powerful as himself. Finally we had the crowd all aboard, and shoved off for the barque, meeting the boat with the Portuguese fellow, who had gone aboard for the pay, just as we cleared the breakers.
Arriving aboard, we soon had the blacks below, and, as payment had been made in gold for our cargo, we had nothing further to do with the scoundrels on the beach. The yards were swung, and we stood offshore to take advantage of the light breeze and work along the coast to the eastward, in the hope of picking up the rest of our cargo before some prying ship-of-war should overhaul us. For several days we worked along without any luck. One or two places Dan knew of had been deserted since the law against slaving had begun to be enforced, and we had to row in through a heavy surf to find this out. This caused the loss of one boat and the drowning of a sailor named Tom, an English cockney chap of little account. During this part of the cruise, I had much to do on the poop, keeping the battery in order and ready for instant action. I saw something of the life aft, and the feeling between Mr. Curtis and Hicks, which had shown itself that night in the town of Funchal. These two men, whose interests were identical, seldom spoke directly to each other now, and only when the trader’s daughter appeared on deck did they show anything but polite hatred in their speech. Curtis was sarcastic, and Hicks was almost as savage by the time we reached Lagos and ran in to finish loading. Miss Allen seemed to avoid both as much as possible, although it was quite evident that she favoured the bolder of the two adventurers. Curtis was anything but a coward, but Hicks had a certain reckless gallantry about him that could hardly fail to attract.
Forward I had been entertained several times by Martin’s brutal jests regarding affairs aft, and, as the girl had always been civil to me, it was all I could do not to chastise the rogue for his foul tongue. My apparent apathy, however, gave him cause to believe I favoured him, and soon he spoke of things that caused me to pay attention and watch him more closely.
CHAPTER XXX.
I SUSPECT TREACHERY
The night we stood in for settlement, there was a bright moon nearly full. We could hear the snore of the surf before midnight, and we shortened the barque down to her topsails in order not to go too fast.
The breeze was fitful and squally off the land as usual, and bringing with it the thick haze of pollen from the rank vegetation on shore. The air being hot, the watch below stayed on deck and lay in the waterway or behind the deck-house, trying to catch the draught blown on the deck from the stretched canvas as it slid under the foot of the main and foresails.
Martin was lying in the shadow of the foremast to keep the moon out of his eyes, and he shifted his position every little while as the bright light followed him around the mast. Beside him lay Anderson, and near by, in the open moonlight, in total disregard for his eyes, was stretched the long skipper, Shannon, prone upon his back, with his shirt open to catch the breeze.