"I want none but willing men," said I. "Americans make as good sailors as the English. What an English seaman can face any of you can. There is another negro in the boat. Will you let him step aboard, captain? He may join."
A man was sent to take his place. Presently he arrived, and I gave him a cup of punch.
"'Splain the business to him, sir," said the captain, filling his pannikin; "his name's Billy Pitt."
I did so; and when I told him that Washington Cromwell had offered, he instantly said, "All right, massa, I'll be ob yah."
This was exactly what I wanted, and had there been a third negro I'd have preferred him to the white man.
"But how are you going to navigate this craft home with three men?" said the man "Bill" to me.
"There'll be four; we shall do. The fewer the more dollars, hey, Wilkinson?"
He grinned, and Cromwell broke into a ventral laugh.
They seemed very well satisfied, and so was I.