“We shall see how he behaves in harbour, and if there is no fault to find with him we can keep him on board,” remarked Owen.
“Your honour knows what’s best,” observed Dan, speaking with the freedom of an old follower, “but I’ll stake my davy that he’s after no good.”
“Well, Dan, Mr Fisher and I will keep an eye on him, and you can report anything further you see suspicious in his conduct,” said Owen, as he and his mate returned on deck.
An hour afterwards the Ouzel Galley was at anchor in Montego Bay. Owen was just going on shore, when Mr Twigg, who had been waiting for the ship, came off and gave him directions about receiving his cargo. Owen reported that he had fully carried out his instructions, showed the guns he had procured, and mustered his crew.
“A likely set of fellows,” observed Mr Twigg. “You’ll do your duty, my lads, and, if you have to defend the ship, you’ll fight bravely. Should you come back in her you may be sure of good wages; Ferris, Twigg, and Cash pay well when they are well served.”
The crew cheered, and Routh, who stood foremost among then, was especially vociferous, though he might have been seen winking to some of his mates when the eyes of the worthy planter and the officers were turned away.
“You’ll have the droghers alongside to-morrow morning, and you’ll not be long in hoisting the casks on board, Captain Massey,” continued Mr Twigg, as he walked the poop. “Meantime, I shall be happy to see you on shore, and should have been glad to take you to Bellevue, as Miss Ferris is anxious to send some messages to our fair friend Miss Tracy, who won all our hearts out here, as I understand she has that of another friend of ours.” Mr Twigg chuckled, and Owen looked conscious. “However, as the distance is too great, Miss Ferris has intrusted me with letters for her friend, which I can safely confide to you.”
Thus Mr Twigg talked on. “You will pass in sight of Bellevue as you run along the coast—we’ll signal you, so that you can give the last report of your friends when you reach Dublin.”
The invitation Owen had received was equivalent to a command, and, though he would have preferred remaining on board, he accompanied Mr Twigg on shore. He met at dinner several planters, agents of estates, or attorneys, as they were called; two or three brother skippers whose vessels lay in the harbour, a military officer, and a few nondescripts. The conversation was pretty general, though the subject of sugar and rum might have predominated, and Owen heard more about affairs in Jamaica than he had hitherto done. The blacks, he found, were in an unsatisfactory state; they had been discovered holding secret meetings of a suspicious character. They had more than once before revolted and committed most fearful atrocities; and one or two gentlemen expressed the fear that, unless precautions were taken in time, the black’s might play the same trick again. Those gentlemen were, however, looked upon by the rest of the company as timid alarmists.
“The cowhide is the best specific for keeping the black rascals in order,” exclaimed Mr Tony Grubbins, an attorney from a neighbouring estate, who looked as if he not unfrequently used that same weapon of offence. “We always know in good time what the negroes are about, for they haven’t the sense to keep their own secrets; if they show any obstreperousness, we shall pretty quickly put them down.”