As the Hornet had been some time on the coast, just as soon as she put the slaves ashore, she stood away for home. We crossed the line, picked up the northeast trade, and made a straight course for the States.
I was allowed the freedom of the deck after I had made known my true rating, and had explained how I had once served in a war-ship and as first officer in several others. In this way I had a chance to meet Miss Allen.
“You are a rough sailorman, are you not, Mr. Heywood?” she asked one day, as we neared the Carolina coast.
“I suppose I may be classed as such,” I assented, “but I’ve held a master’s position once, and been mate of several ships.”
“Well,” she said, “I must confess that I like rough sailormen very much. You know I’ve been used to the society of gentlemen.”
“Your discernment in choosing acquaintance does you immense credit, Miss Allen,” I answered. “I’m sure I feel honoured.”
“I have always associated with men who could read and write, you know, and who have been to school. But I do like rough sailormen. They have much that is interesting about them,” she continued, calmly, without heeding my interruption.
“There are over a hundred on board this ship,” I asserted, getting my breath. “Possibly some of them could sign their names, or, at least, make a cross-mark opposite them. As for me, I fear so much learning would be dangerous in so rough a sailor.”
She flushed, and I saw at once that she had meant nothing disagreeable. Then she asked me straightway about Sir John Hicks.
“How was it he did not follow us?” she asked.