“Are you going to fight?” I asked.
“Of course I am,” replied he; “why not? I have no longer either mother or wife. Fight? Of course I will fight.”
IV.
“Another shot, sir,” cried Tailtackle, through the open cabin window.
All was now noise and confusion, and I hastened on deck. Our opponent was a large brig of at least three hundred tons burthen, a low vessel painted black. Its sides were as round as an apple, the yards were unusually large, and it was evidently filled with men. I counted nine guns on a side and prayed silently that they might not prove long guns. I was not a little horrified to find, on looking through the glass, that the deck was covered with naked negroes. That the vessel was a slaver, I had not for a moment doubted, and I had also imagined that its crew might number fifty men, but that the captain would resort to such a dangerous expedient––dangerous to himself as well as to us––as to arm the slaves, had never entered my mind, and it startled me not a little to find that he had done so, as it showed that I must expect the most desperate resistance.
Tailtackle had pulled off his jacket, and was standing by my side. His belt was tightly drawn round his waist, and his cutlass hung from it. The rest of the men were armed in the same manner; some of them had also, muskets, and the others stood at their posts, near the guns. The grapnels were loosened, and tubs of wadding, and boxes of cartridge stood ready for use. In short, all was prepared for action.
“Master Tailtackle,” said I, “your post is in the magazine. 107 Lay aside your cutlass; it is not your duty to lead the boarders.”
“Master Timothy,” said Bangs, “could you do without one of these pikes?”
“Certainly, sir,” replied Timothy, laughing, “but you do not intend to lead the boarders yourself, do you, sir?”