“Who calls er mon like me er weak mortil, hey?” came a voice from the crowd, and there stood Martin, the empty bottle in hand, his eyes shifty and dangerous.
“I’m a true Christian man, d’ye ken that, an’ if ye dare say I be ither, I’ll wallop ye like er babe.”
Curtis was off the poop in an instant, and there was a mix-up that promised much in the way of diversion, for whatever our preacher lacked, it was not a quick temper. He seized the tipsy Scot by the hair with both hands, and, in spite of the hoots and wallops he received, was making a very fair job of him when Jones and Henry separated them.
Howard stood on the poop and cackled away, enjoying the scene, refusing to do anything to Martin unless Curtis ordered it. This the younger man’s vanity would not permit, and upon the whole it was just as well, for it made the feeling a little less uncomfortable forward, which was a good thing for a vessel going into a harbour where crews might be scarce.
There was some hesitancy on Hawkson’s part about going in with such a large crew, for trading-vessels generally were not heavily manned. It might create enough comment to attract the attention of a man-of-war, and even though our papers might be fixed satisfactorily, a boarding of the barque would be hazardous to a slaving enterprise. At all events, it was decided that Mr. Gull should take a boat’s crew and land upon the Desertas, the rocks about a dozen miles to the southward. Here they would kill as many wild goats and hogs as they could, and await the barque’s signal before venturing in, bucanning the meat for the voyage back.
We soon anchored in the open roadstead not very far from the beach. The town of Funchal lay before us to the north’ard, its terraces and vineyards rising from the water up the steep sides of the mountains. A very pretty place it was, and in a short time the captain’s gig was called away to take him ashore. Richards silently brought the boat to the ladder, and sat stiff and motionless, a regular man-o’-war cockswain. The whole after-guard, except Henry and Watkins, clambered into the boat, Yankee Dan and his daughter accompanied by Hicks and Curtis.
The old trader had been somewhat subdued in spirits during the latter part of the trip across, owing to our loss of gear and the leaky condition of the vessel. Now he spoke with his usual spirits, which rose as the distance between him and the shore lessened.
“Sink me!” said he, “if I don’t try to show these dagoes how to drive a trade for them topmasts.”
“I wouldn’t, if you intend staying ashore,” said Hicks.
“Will I stay ashore?” said Miss Allen.