‘So the Betsy sails to-morrow, without fail,’ said the first ruffian.
‘She does,’ was the answer of the seaman.
‘Why has her stay been so short this trip?’ again asked the man. ‘We will make but a poor job of it. We have only nabbed five.’
‘Why, I think you have done pretty well,’ answered the sailor; ‘twenty-five pounds for two days’ work is good pay. Old Satan, you are never content.’
‘None of your slack, mate,’ rejoined the other; ‘I won’t stand it. Two days more would have made it fifty or better; and no man, more than I, would be content with one half of what he might and ought to have.’
‘I believe we are full, old Grumbler,’ said the tar; ‘others are more active than you; but here, we are just alongside of the Betsy. Ship, ahoy! Throw us a rope! Are you all asleep?’
In a few minutes, a rope was thrown; it was made fast by the fore thwarts, when the ruffians and mate went on board, and remained for some time. At length the mate returned, and, holding the end of the rope from the vessel, ordered me to ascend, which I did with difficulty. My two companions were then hoisted on board, being fastened to a rope, and dragged up by the crew of the vessel. As soon as they were on deck, the ruffians descended into a boat without speaking a word, and put off for the harbour.
When it was gone, I was conducted to the hold of the vessel; and the two companions of my adventure were carried, and placed beside me. My terror of them had now entirely fled; for, from their contortions and half-muttered expressions, I had perceived they were not dead, but in a beastly state of intoxication. Even to be from under the same roof with the cause of my sufferings was to me a change much for the better. With a mind comparatively at ease, I fell asleep upon the hard deck, where I had at first taken my station, and remained in happy unconsciousness until I was awoke after sunrise, in consequence of the bustle and noise around me. For a few minutes I revolved the events of the preceding day and night in my mind, and shuddered as the recollection dawned upon me. Raising myself upon my elbow, I gazed around as well as the obscurity would permit (for the main hatch was closed), and saw the two young men who had caused me so much alarm, lying close beside me, in a profound sleep, and breathing very heavily. I attempted to rise; but felt so sick and giddy that I could not keep my feet, from the motion of the vessel. I longed for the presence of some of the crew; but none of them came near us. The two lads at length awoke from their sleep, bewildered and sick almost to death; they gazed around them with a vacant stare, as if they had just passed into a new state of existence. They spoke not a word; their minds were occupied in examining all around them, and, as I thought, ascertaining their own identity. Young as I was, had I been at ease, I could have enjoyed the extraordinary scene before me; but, alas! I was a partaker of all the feelings that were passing in their minds. At length they broke silence—
‘Willie, Willie, what’s come owre us now?’ cried Peter.
‘Indeed I do not know, Peter,’ replied he; ‘but I fear it is no good.’