I sat near the fore-hatchway and watched the shadow of the fabric above swing to and fro upon the deck planks, the lines of the rigging standing out sharp and black on the white wood, the dark blots of the canvas moving slowly within a certain radius with each easy roll of the long swell. It was a bright tropic moon, and it was serenely beautiful. I lounged there, enjoying the silvery light, and hated to sleep lest I miss some of the rare beauty of the darker hours.
Gradually the men on watch settled themselves comfortably, and only the steady tramp of the man on lookout upon the forecastle head, and Hawkson’s step upon the poop told of life aboard. Once or twice the mate’s hoarse voice sounded gruffly, asking Holmberg, who was at the wheel, how she headed, and the answer came low and distinct through the quiet night. The musical hiss and twinkle of the side-wash sounded restful upon the ear after the day’s toil and heat, and seemed to tell of cool sprays. I had the right to sleep, but only dozed, thinking of the disagreeable work in store for us. We would probably take on many blacks here, and nearly, if not quite, fill up with them. Those already aboard gave forth an odour that was far from reassuring, coming as it did up the open hatchway, and I dreaded several hundred more creatures jammed below there, where they must of necessity die like vermin in a box.
While I dozed, I became aware of a whispered conversation. Soon I recognized Martin’s voice, though I could not quite hear his words. He seemed to be talking to Shannon, who had now rolled over in the shadow of the mast alongside of the Scot.
I listened again, for the fellow’s voice was eager, as it was when he talked of any deviltry he expected to enjoy, and I noticed the same tone he used to me when we first made our acquaintance, and when we discussed the probability of the barque becoming a rover and preying upon any vessel of smaller size.
“D’ye ken that? I say, ye long man, d’ye ken that?” said he in answer to a question he had evidently asked. “’Tis as easy fer us as not. There’s Anderson waiting to kill the mate, an’ Jorg willin’ to kill any one, and there’s Pat, Gus, Gilbert, an’ the Doctor willin’ to follow. Hoot! we’d make a finish, na fear. Why, ye c’u’d whollop half the crew yerself, ye long cateran. Didn’t ye nigh do it the day ye made yer jump into the hooker? Help ye? Now, now, c’u’d I have helped ye? Na, na, don’t ask mericles. I let fly the jib, but ’twould have been murder an’ sudden death to have gone aft then. All armed, an’ with that gunner man fightin’ like a sack o’ wildcats, an’ the little fox havin’ a death-grip on yer pipe. Talk sense an’ to the p’int.”
“You air a loose-jawed hell-dog, I wanter know,” said Shannon. “D’you suppose it’s fear a-keepin’ me, hey? What’d you know about the coast, anyways? What’d you want to try an’ tell me?” Then in a more friendly tone: “I know you air a navigator. Good sailor, all right, an’ would stick to a job, but there is a right time for business. I’m a-runnin’ this thing, an’ all you’ve got to do is wait till I says the word. I think a whole lot o’ ye, Martin, an’ would hate to see you swing. There ain’t no one I cares as much for, that’s a fact. An’ when a fellow like me cares for a man,--I say a man, Martin, for that’s what you are, hey? When a fellow like me says that, that same thing, it stands fer something. If it don’t, I wanter know.”
This sort of flattery evidently pleased the Scot. He said something in a low tone, and I felt convinced that he was easily within the power of the long countryman of mine. It’s strange, but immediately after hearing this, I must have lost consciousness, for when I awoke it was gray dawn and a chill filled the air. The watch was called, and I turned out by simply standing up and then sitting down again.
In a little while we washed down the damp decks, and I had a chance to get a look to the northeast, when the haze of the surf blotted out the shore-line. By the time the Doctor had his fire started and we had something warm, the sun rose and disclosed the ruinous settlement of Lagos.
The conversation I had heard disturbed me. There was something sinister in its meaning, and, while I had no love for the barque, I did not care to make a bad matter worse. However, I had no chance to talk the matter over until we had run in and dropped our anchor close to the settlement, and there Yankee Dan appeared on deck ready to go ashore for trading. Howard and Curtis also turned out, and Miss Allen appeared at the companion, very much interested in the distant shore, where the houses were just visible in the morning sunshine.
She smiled somewhat sadly at me as I went aft and loosed the covers from the stern guns, and saw that the priming was in good order. I had begun to think the poor girl out of place long before, and I now felt a sort of hatred for her father, who could expose her to such scenes without any apparent pity. But the trader had become callous from experience in the slaving business, and saw nothing unusual in cooping up a shipful of human beings. They were no more than so many cattle to him, and, as to his daughter’s feelings, he had offered her a chance to stay ashore. If she preferred the scenes of violence, it was no concern of his.