"I'll take it." The branco woman stepped forward.
"Give it to her."
"You'd best keep a close eye, Cap'n." The fat man hesitated. "I think this one'd be a near match for you. . . ."
"Just fetch the hammer, John."
"Aye." He reluctantly passed the musket and began backing slowly toward the hatch leading to the lower deck.
Atiba watched him disappear into the dark, then turned back to Winston. "You do not own slaves, senhor. Yet you do nothing about those on this island who do."
"What goes on here is not my affair. Other men can do what they like."
"In Ife we say, 'He who claps hands for the fool to dance is no better than the fool.' " He glanced back at the arsenal stored in the dark room behind him. "If you do nothing to right a wrong, then are you not an accomplice?"
The man suddenly seemed to understand everything. Without a word he walked over and shoved the door against the open fo'c'sle. "Let me give you some wisdom from this side of the wide ocean, my friend. I think all the drumming I've been hearing, and now this, means you're planning some kind of revolt. I'm not going to help you, and I'm damned if you're going to use any of my muskets." He reached up and adjusted the lantern. "I've done everything I can to end slavery. Nobody on this island listens to me. So whatever you do is up to you."
"But without weapons, we have no chance of winning our freedom."