“The Go-along, from Baltimore, bound for Rio,” answered a person on board the brig, through a speaking-trumpet.
“Heave-to, if you please, sir, and I will pay you a visit—we are in great distress,” said Waller.
“Ay, ay, sir,” was the reply from the brig, as she was speedily brought up on a wind and hove-to.
So soon as we could get a boat in the water, leaving Jack in charge, Waller and I went on board the brig. The master, a tall, thin, sallow man, with a pointed beard, no whiskers, and a hooked nose, with a huge cigar in his mouth, a straw hat on his head, loose nankeen trousers, and a gingham swallow-tailed coat, received us at the gangway.
“Walk into the cabin, gentlemen, and let’s liquor a bit,” said he, as we stepped on board, showing us the way before we had time to reply.
The cabin, to our eyes, looked luxuriously furnished, and not unwelcome was the repast of cold beef and ham and fine biscuits which the steward placed speedily before us, not forgetting a spirit-stand with four tall bottles. We did ample justice to the good things placed before us.
“And now, what’s your pleasure, Mr Lieutenant?” laid the master of the brig.
Waller explained exactly what had occurred. “And now,” he continued, “we are in a sinking state; we have neither provisions nor water to last us till we can reach a port; and the destruction of all these poor people is sealed if you do not help us.”
“What! take all them dirty niggers aboard my craft?” exclaimed the skipper, with a look of ineffable disgust. “You Britishers have rum notions, I calculate.”
“No, pardon me,” said Waller. “I only ask you to preserve from almost certain destruction a number of our fellow-creatures; and any remuneration which you may require will certainly be paid you.”