“Dis gal free,” said the big buck, standing up, as he heard the conversation. “He no right to take her--nor me. I Begna Sam, no slave. Lib right ashore till you come. Den he cotch us both, an’ say we slave ’cause long sailor, Shannon, he say he buy us.”
Cortelli grinned. It was not the first time he had practised this trick, and, if the blacks had no friends strong enough to protest, they invariably went with the rest of the cargo.
“Where are the girl’s people?” asked Hicks.
“What difference does it make?” asked Yankee Dan. “I see no difference whether they’re ashore here or back in the timber, do you?”
Mr. Curtis nodded encouragingly. It was evident he had no scruples how or where the girl had been kidnapped.
The Guinea, Cortelli, shrugged his fat shoulders, and shot a venomous look at the Englishman.
“Shall I find out where each black resides when at home?” he asked, sarcastically. Then he turned away.
Hicks, instead of following him, leaned over the rail. A strange look of sadness came into his eyes. He was a hard men among hard men, and he had revolted at the squeal of a black woman. I watched him a moment, and looked to see something more happen.
He evidently saw that to send the girl ashore meant to doom her to Cortelli’s will. There was only one way, and, as she stepped on deck with the big buck, Sam, he went to him and asked about the girl’s people. She was being separated from her old mother and crippled sister, neither of whom were of any value as slaves. Begna Sam was hustled below with the rest, and Hicks went back on the poop.
“Bring her mother and sister aboard,” said he to Cortelli. “I’ll give you full price for both.”