As we drew alongside, Hawkson’s voice hailed us.
“Got ’em all?” said he.
“Hevery bloomin’ one, sur,” answered Henry.
“Knock off their irons, then, and let ’em turn in. We’ll make a start early in the mornin’ if things turn out all right.”
“There’s been a bit o’ trouble ashore,” said Henry, climbing up the chains, and then he evidently told Hawkson something of what had happened, for Tim’s irons and mine were left on, and we were hustled below, where we were hitched to ring-bolts in the slave-deck.
Shortly afterward, the noise of the howling men ceased, and I knew that they had either obeyed orders and turned in, or had been gagged. It was dark below, and I could see nothing of Tim. I spoke his name softly, but received no answer. Then I heard a voice, agonized and full of great suffering, praying and pleading for some one to come back again.
CHAPTER XVI.
A TASTE OF COLD IRON
It was hard to tell just when the morning dawned in that dark hold of the slaver. I was awakened by Henry coming below and leading us both on deck, where our usual mess of bread and coffee was served for breakfast. Then we were told to lay aft, and, following Hawkson, we entered the cabin to hear our sentence pronounced by Captain Howard.
As we entered, that strange old rascal was at the table with Hicks, engaged in a most peculiar game. The cloth was divided up into squares like a checker-board, and from opposite sides the two were hard at it, and paid no attention to Hawkson’s entrance. In a short time I found that “beef was king,” that is, a plate with meat upon it could jump a dish of bread or cup of coffee, as with checkers, the person losing not having any more of that victual for the meal. While they played, they ate from whatever dishes they could reach, and were so absorbed that it was not until Hicks jumped the old man’s plate of sliced pineapple with a chunk of salt beef that the old villain turned and noticed us. Then he surlily demanded what was wanted.
Whether it was the loss of his fruit or memory of the last night’s occurrence that oppressed him, it was hard to tell, but his mask-like face showed no feeling. He bade Hawkson stand us against the cabin bulkhead, and called Watkins to hand him pistols.