“I’m an American, like yourself, and was gunner of the barque The Gentle Hand,” I answered.
I thought he would strike me when I said I was like himself, but he saw I meant no offence.
“Did all the slaves go down in her after you fired her, when you saw you couldn’t get away from us?” he asked again.
Then it suddenly dawned upon me that the cruiser had thought we had burned and scuttled the ship ourselves, after finding he was closing in and would soon have her under his guns.
“We didn’t fire her,” I answered. “The blacks did that, and there’s no one left alive of her crew that I know of besides myself.”
He gave a grunt of disgust, as if it were no use talking to a rascal, and headed for his vessel’s side. I could see her lights now only half a mile away, and I wondered who and what she was, and what fate she had in store for me.
It looked as if I had made a mistake in leaving The Gentle Hand, and visions of a figure swaying at a yard-arm began flitting through my tired brain.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
THE LAST STRAND OF MY YARN
When we came alongside the man-of-war, another small boat had already arrived. Lights were in the gangway, and forms showed along the rail. The vessel was a brig-rigged cruiser, not very large, but, judging from the heaviness of her spars that towered above in the darkness, she was very fast, capable of overhauling the majority of traders. She would not have caught The Gentle Hand in a breeze of any weight, and, as I gazed at her, I remembered the sail I had seen before dark, and to which I had called Bill’s attention while aloft. This vessel was evidently the one seen but not reported, and she had probably crept up on us in the darkness without our knowing it. Then came the rising forward among the men, planned and led by Shannon and Martin, who had plotted with the slave-driver ashore for some of the profits. They had intended taking the barque in themselves, selling and landing the cargo somewhere on either the Cuban or American coast, and then making another trip, or sinking her before being overhauled and found out. It was a game easily played among dealers who asked few questions and who paid cost prices. Clearing would not be difficult to men who thought nothing of forging papers, and who would close the mouths of certain officials of the Spanish ports well known to them by handing over a small percentage of the profits. How it all ended is now known, and I seemed to be the sole survivor of the affair.
We ranged alongside the cruiser, and the order came to peak oars. How the accurate obedience of the men and quick, certain movements brought back memories of the days when I wore the blue uniform and served frigate’s guns. Then we were fast, and I was ordered to stand up.