The Three Midshipmen

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Don’t disturb my poor men. Some of them are asleep below,” said the Don, in an ordinary tone of voice.

Hemming, however, paid very little attention to his remarks, but ordered Jack and Adair to keep a sharp lookout on his movements on deck while he descended below. Hemming looked round the dark hold of the supposed slaver, but there was no sign of a slave-deck, nor, after a careful search, could he find anything to warrant him in detaining her. In the fore-peak a rather numerous crew for the size of the vessel were asleep, or pretending to be asleep, for some lifted up their heads even to have a look at the intruders. At length Hemming returned on deck.

“I told you so, gentlemen,” said the Don, making another excessively polite bow. “Suspicions, as I remarked, are not proofs. I might now ask by what authority you ventured on board this craft and nearly frightened some of my poor men out of their wits; but we are honest, peaceably disposed people, and have no desire to quarrel with strangers.”

“Do you mean to say that you hadn’t your vessel full of blacks last night, whatever since you have done with them?” exclaimed Jack, stamping on the deck with indignation, as he felt somewhat compromised in the matter.

“Be calm, young gentleman,” said the Don. “As I remarked, suspicions are not proofs. I am not accustomed to answer questions as to my movements, and therefore would advise you to be silent.”

There was no more to be done on board the felucca. Although Don Diogo was known to be a slave-dealer and guilty of numberless atrocities, he could not be touched, nor could his craft be detained. As the English returned to their boat he bowed and scraped, his mouth grinning, and his countenance wearing at the same time an expression of the most intense hatred. “We may meet again, gentlemen, before long, but perhaps you may not find me in so placable a mood as at present.”

Hemming made no answer, but the Don was seen bowing away and nourishing his sombrero as long as they could see him. Not a little vexed at the fruitless result of their expedition, Hemming and his companions pulled to the northward in search of the frigate.

“I cannot make it out,” observed Jack, after having been lost in thought for some time.

“I can, though,” said Hemming. “I have not the shadow of a doubt that, somehow or other, the Don got notice that we were in the neighbourhood, and that, as the slaves were taken in on one side of the vessel, he sent them back again by the rafts over the other. Had we made a dash at the felucca at once, we should have found some of them on board, and she would have been condemned. We will be wiser in future.”

It was not till late in the evening that they fell in with the frigate. She kept cruising off the bay, and two other boats were sent in to watch for the felucca; but the old Don was too wary a bird to be thus easily caught, and nothing was seen of the felucca. Soon after this a steamer hove in sight, and her commander, coming on board the Ranger, informed Captain Lascelles of an unsuccessful attack having been made on Lagos; at the same time delivering to him despatches from Mr Beecroft, the British Consul for the Bight of Benin, residing at Fernando Po, asking for further assistance. Sail was instantly, therefore, made for the northward, and, the wind holding favourable, they were not long before they got off the slave-coast in the neighbourhood of the place proposed to be attacked. Great was the satisfaction expressed by all hands, both in the gun-room and midshipmen’s berth, and throughout the ship, at the prospect of some real work being done. In the midshipmen’s berth, perhaps, the satisfaction was more vehemently expressed.