We ran the dingey alongside and prepared to mount the channels to the deck, but, on looking up, we noticed the long man had not moved or spoken, but had drawn forth a huge horse-pistol, which he poked over the rail.
“Youst hold on a bit with that,” said Bill. “We know you’re a trader all right by the smell o’ yer. We ain’t no men-o’-war’s men, so what’s that got to do with us?”
The tall man looked thoughtfully along the barrel of the weapon, and then put it out of sight. “Wall, come up, then, if ye know the smell so well.”
Thus invited, we quickly made our way aboard, and lost no time in purchasing some of the “good American whiskey,” which turned out to be the worst stuff afloat.
All idea of changing ships left me as I stepped on deck. She was without doubt a slaver, bound out in the same rascally enterprise we were. But, as she carried the American flag, she was free from British men-of-war, and consequently less afraid of detection. For, although slaving was now a piracy, no British ship could take her without slaves aboard, and there were only two or three small American cruisers in the South Atlantic, and these were too slow to capture a very fast ship. I wondered why Hawkson allowed us aboard her, knowing well that we were almost sure to tell of our affairs. Then I remembered his request to note her armament and crew.
The latter we found just below the hatches, all armed to the teeth with pistols, cutlasses, and boarding-pikes, awaiting the word of their captain to spring on deck and defend their ship should occasion arise. Our boat was a suspicious object that the long skipper had been watching for some time, and believed there was some game behind our innocent call. The six little guns on each broadside were all loaded, and we found that she would clear just as soon as water could be brought aboard.
After the men--there were twenty-six in all--had put aside their arms and received us as companions, we had the usual sailors’ orgy before starting back. Yarns were told, and, if ever there was a crew of unhung rascals, these self-confessed villains would have formed them.
Martin seemed pleased at last to find men who stopped at nothing, and before he left was talking piracy, and begging some of the hardiest to join him. He was very drunk, however, and his railings were counted as little, but I knew that he was really speaking, as drunken men often do, from their inmost hearts. One great hulking fellow, with red whiskers, took a little with the scheme, and another man, an Italian sailor, looked a bit queer about the eyes when the Scot talked of gold. The long skipper heard nothing of their ravings, for, after allowing us aboard the vessel, he retired to the cabin, where his mates were waiting to see the outcome of the visit. When they saw we were really only four able-bodied men of a strange barque, their interest appeared to fade away entirely. We finally shoved off, dizzy and sick with the poison imbibed, myself thoroughly disgusted with the slaver’s crew, and Martin and Ernest inviting them to a meeting ashore.
Hawkson took me aside when we returned, and asked a few questions. My disgust for my countrymen was too apparent not to be noticed, and the mate evidently thought it safe to trust me now anywhere, for I was allowed ashore again that evening.
Our liberty crews were unique and grotesque. There was little care for desertion, evidently on account of Henry’s ability to get the deserters without trouble from any island where access to the mainland could only be had by some large vessel that could be easily seen. And, as we were mongrel in the extreme, there was much to be expected from mixture.