Roberts kept his word that same evening, for just as the darkness was setting in and the two lads had walked forward to lean over the side and gaze down at the unruffled transparent sea and wonder which were reflections of the golden glory of the stars and which were the untold myriads of phosphorescent creatures that, as far down as eye could penetrate, spangled the limpid sea, the lad suddenly gave his companion a nudge with his elbow.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Murray.

“Look here, and I’ll show you.”

“Well, I’m looking; but it’s too dark to see what you are fumbling over.”

“How stupid! What a blind old bat you are! Well, it’s a piece of plum duff.”

“Why, you’re like a school-boy,” said Murray.

“Oh no, I’m not.”

“You may say oh no you’re not, but fancy me saving up a bit of cold pudding from dinner and bringing it out of my jacket pocket to eat!”

“Ah, but you have no reason for doing it. I have.”

“What, are you going to use it as a bait?”

“That’s it, my son; but I’m not going to use hook or line.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Throw it over for one of the sharks we saw cruising about before sundown.”

“But what for? You don’t want to pet sharks with cold pudding.”

“No. Guess again.”

“Stuff! Speak out.”

“Poison – cold pison.”

“What! Why, you would never see the brute that took it turn up in the darkness.”

“Don’t want to, my son,” said the lad solemnly.

“Look here, Dick, it’s too hot, to-night, and I’m too tired and sleepy to try and puzzle out your conundrums, so if you want me to understand what you’re about you had better speak out. What a rum chap you are!”

“I am.”

“One hour you’re all a fellow could wish; the next you are red-hot to quarrel. See how you were this afternoon when the doctor was talking to you.”

“Ah! I was out of temper then, but now I feel so happy that a child might play with me.”

“Glad to hear it, but I don’t want to be child-like, and I don’t want to play.”

“Perhaps not, but you’ll be interested.”

“Fire away, then. What has made you so happy?”

“I had an idea.”

“Well, look sharp, or I shall fall asleep with my head resting on my arms.”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Roberts. “You see that solid lump of pudding?”

“I told you before I can’t see it.”

“Feel it then.”

“No, I’ll be hanged if I do! Why should I feel a nasty piece of cold pudding?”

“Don’t be so jolly particular; it’s quite dry.”

“Look here, Dick, are you going off your head?”

“I thought I was when the idea came, for it set me laughing so that I could not stop myself.”

“Come, tell me what it all means, or I shall go below to my berth. What is there in all this?”

“Poison, I tell you.”

“Yes, you told me before; but what does it mean?”

“You see that lump of pudding; well, there’s poison in it.”

“Dick Roberts, I’m hot and easily aggravated. If you go on like this I shall be as quarrelsome as you were this afternoon.”

“Well, there, it was all my idea that I had this afternoon. I got that lump of pudding from the cook, took it down to my berth, pulled out my knife, put the box on the side of the pudding, and cut out a piece exactly the size of the box.”

“Wh-a-a-t! You mean you cut a piece out of the box just the size of the pudding?”

“No, I don’t, my son. You don’t understand yet. Can’t you see I’m talking about a pill-box?”

“Oh-h-h!”

“Now don’t you see? I cut a hole in the pudding and slipped the box in, and then made a stopper of the pudding I had cut out, and corked up the hole with the box inside.”

“I begin to see now,” said Murray. “A pill-box full of poison to kill the shark that swallows the poison.”

“I don’t care whether it kills the fish or no as long as I get rid of the stuff.”

“Now you are getting confused again. Why should you try to poison a shark like this? What good would it do – what difference would one shark make out of the thousands which infest the sea?”

“Oh, Franky, what a Dummkopf you are, as the Germans say!”

“Don’t care what the Germans say, and I dare say I am a stupid-head, for I can’t make out what you are driving at.”

“You can’t? Why, I’m going to make the shark take the poison instead of taking it myself.”

“But what poison?”

“Old Reston’s: the two blue pills. Then I shall pitch the bottle of horrible draught overboard. I don’t care what becomes of that so long as it sinks to the bottom.”

“Oh, I see plainly enough now,” said Murray.

“And pretty well time, my boy! Wasn’t it a capital idea?”

“No,” said Murray bluntly. “Stupid, I say.”

“Not it, old chap. Don’t you see that it is liver medicine?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, sharks have livers. They fish for them in the Mediterranean, take out the livers, and boil them down to sell for cod liver oil.”

“Then that’s a lie,” said Murray. “Perhaps it’s being a lie made you think of it.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll have to tell the doctor a lie when he asks you if you took the medicine.”

“But he won’t ask.”

“He will, for certain.”

“How do you know? Did he ever ask you?”

“Well, no,” said Murray thoughtfully; “I can’t say that he did. He never gave me any, only touched me up a bit when I was hurt.”

“Then don’t you be so jolly knowing, my fine fellow,” cried Roberts. “You can’t tell if he hasn’t doctored you, and I’m quite sure about it, for I know well from nasty experience of his ways that he will not bother one with questions as you think. He gives the fellows physic to take, and just asks them next day how they feel.”

“Well, that’s what I say,” cried Murray triumphantly. “Isn’t that just the same?”

“No, not a bit of it. He just asks them how they feel next day; that’s all. He takes it for granted that they have swallowed his boluses and draughts. He’ll ask me to-morrow how I feel, and I shall tell him I am all right.”

“You’ll tell him a lie then. Very honourable, upon my word!”

“Here’s a pretty how-de-do, Mr Ultra-particular, with your bully bounce about telling a lie! I shan’t do anything of the kind. I shall tell him I’m all right because I am quite well, thank you. Bother him and his horrible old stuff! I know I should be pretty mouldy and out of sorts if I took it. Let him ask the shark how he feels, if he gets the chance, for here it goes. Pudding first, which means pills – there!”

A faint splash followed a movement on the part of the midshipman, and Murray saw the calm sea agitated, and faint flashes of phosphorescent light appear, while directly after it was as if something made a rush; the depths grew ablaze with pale lambent cold fire, and Roberts gave vent to an ejaculation expressive of his delight.

“A shark for a shilling,” he cried, “and a big one too. You see if he doesn’t hang about the sloop and show himself in the morning, turning up his eyes on the lookout for whoever it was that tried to poison him.”

“Turning up his eyes!” said Murray. “Nonsense! If it was as you say the shark would be turning up its white underparts and floating wrong way up.”

“Maybe; but hold hard a minute; it’s rather soon to exhibit the other dose, as old Reston calls it. I’m not going to make an exhibition of myself, though, this time, so here goes. You see if Jack Shark doesn’t go for the bottle as soon as I throw it overboard. Here goes!” Splash!

“How stupid!” said Roberts. “I ought to have drawn the cork.”

“Oh no,” said Murray, laughing. “I don’t suppose the directions said, to be taken in water.”

“Um – no. But what’s to be done? Look; he’s got it.”

For as the descent of the bottle Roberts had thrown in could be traced by the way in which the tiny phosphorescent creatures were disturbed, lower and lower through the deep water, there was another vivid flash made by some big fish as it gave a tremendous flourish with its tail, and the midshipman rubbed his hands with delight.

“He’s got it, I’m sure,” he cried. “But what’s to be done? No use to pitch in a corkscrew.”

“Not a bit, Dick,” replied Murray cheerily.

“What a pity! I ought to have known better. He’s got it, but the glass will stop the draught from having the proper effect.”

“Oh no; perhaps not,” said Murray, laughing. “I’ve read that sharks have wonderful digestions.”

“Well, let’s hope this one has. I shall like to look out for him to-morrow watching for the doctor, as he squints up from the wake of the sloop.”

“More likely to be looking up for you, old fellow. The doctor didn’t throw the bottle in.”

“Oh, well, never mind that. I don’t suppose the horrible beast knows the difference. I’ve got rid of the stuff, anyhow; that’s all I care about; and nobody knows but you.”

“Beg pardon, gentlemen,” said a voice out of the darkness; “was you a-chucking anything overboard?”

There was a short time of silence, for Murray waited so as to give his messmate a chance to answer the question; but as the latter made no reply he took the duty upon himself.

“That you, Tom May?” he asked.

“Ay, ay, sir. Somebody chucked somethin’ overboard twiced, and I was wondering whether it was you gents.”

“Why?” said Roberts shortly. “Couldn’t it have been one of the watch?”

“No, sir; they’re aft, or t’other side of the ship.”

“Well, it was, Tom.”

“Oh, all right, sir. You’ll ’scuse me asking? I only did ’cause the skipper’s very partickler since one of the lads got making away with some of the ship’s stores, and there’s no knowing what mischief the boys might be up to. Then, o’ course, sir, there’s nothing for me to report to the officer of the watch?”

“No: nothing at all, Tom. Haven’t got anything more to throw in, have you, Murray?”

“Not so much as a single pill,” said Murray drily.

“Eh? No, of course not. The water’s so still and clear, Tom,” continued the middy hurriedly, “you can see the fish dash after anything, making the sea flash quite deep down.”

“Oh yes, sir, I’ve seen that. It’s the sharks, sir; there’s often one hanging about right below the keel on the lookout for anything that may be chucked overboard. I believe, sir, as they’ve got sense enough to know that they may have a bit o’ luck and have a chance at an onlucky chap as slips overboard or gets tempted into having a bathe. Wonderful cunning critters, sir, is sharks. I’m always glad when there’s a hook with a bit o’ pork trailed overboard and one’s hauled aboard and cut up to see what he’s got inside.”

“What!” said Roberts excitedly. “Ripped up to see what’s inside?”

“Yes, sir. Don’t you remember that one we caught ’bout a month ago? Oh no, of course not. You was ashore with the skipper’s gig at Seery Leony. That there was a whopper, sir, and he did lay about with his tail, till the cook had it off with a lucky chop of his meat axe. That quieted the beggar a bit, and give him a chance to open Mr Jack Shark up and see what he’d had for dinner lately.”

“And did you find anything, Tom?” asked Roberts.

“Find anything, sir!” replied the man. “I should just think we did! I mean, the lads did, sir; I warn’t going to mess myself up with the bloodthirsty varmint.”

“Of course not,” said Murray mischievously; “but what did they find? Anything bad? – Physic bottle, for instance? Bother! What are you doing, Roberts?” For his companion gave him a savage dig in the dark with his elbow. “Oh, nothing!”

“Physic bottle, sir?” continued the sailor wonderingly. “Not as I know on. More likely to ha’ been an empty rum bottle. Wouldn’t ha’ been a full un,” added the man, chuckling. “But I tell you what they did find, sir, and that was ’bout half-a-dozen o’ them round brass wire rings as the black women wears on their arms and legs.”

“Ugh!” ejaculated Roberts, with a shudder. “How horrible!”

“Yes, sir; that seemed to tell tales like. Looked as if Jack had ketched some poor black women swimming at the mouth o’ one of the rivers as runs down into the sea.”

“Possibly,” said Murray.

“Yes, sir; that’s it. I did hear once of a shark being caught with a jack knife inside him. It warn’t no good, being all rusted up; but a jack knife it was, all the same, with a loop at the end o’ the haft where some poor chap had got it hung round him by a lanyard – some poor lad who had fell overboard, and the shark had been waiting for him. You see, sir, such things as brass rings and jack knives wouldn’t ’gest like, as the doctor calls it.”

“No; suppose not,” said Murray, who added, after drawing back a little out of the reach of Roberts’s elbow, “and a bottle of physic would not digest either.”

“Not it, sir,” replied the man, “onless it got broken, or the cork come out.”

“Er-r-r!” growled Roberts, in quite a menacing tone.

“He wouldn’t like it, o’ course, sir,” said the man, speaking as if he were playing into the midshipman’s hand and chuckling the while. “Doctors’ stuff arn’t pleasant to take for human sailors, and I don’t s’pose it would ’gree with sharks. I’ve been thinking, though, that I should like to shy a bottle o’ rum overboard, corked up, say, with a bit o’ the cook’s duff. That would ’gest, and then he’d get the rum. Think it would kill him, sir?”

“No, I don’t,” said Murray. “Ask Mr Roberts what he thinks. He’s very clever over such things as that; eh, Roberts?”

“Oh, stuff!” cried the middy. “Nonsense!”

“You might tell him what you think, though,” said Murray. “You know how fond you are of making experiments.”

“Do talk sense,” cried the lad petulantly. “Look here, May, I think it would be a great waste of useful stores to do such a thing.”

“Yes, sir; so do I,” said the man; “and that’s talking sense, and no mistake. Beg pardon, gentlemen, but what do you think of the skipper’s ideas?”

“What about?” asked Murray sharply. “We don’t canvass what our officers plan to do.”

“Don’t know about canvassing them, sir,” said the man, “but I meant no harm, only we’ve been talking it over a deal in the forc’sle, and we should like to know whether the captain means to give up trying after the slave skipper.”

“No, certainly not.”

“That’s right, sir,” said the man eagerly. “Glad on it. But it’s got about that we was sailing away from the coast here, which is such a likely spot for dropping upon him.”

“Well, I don’t mind answering you about that, Tom. Mind, I don’t want my name to be given as an authority, but I believe that Captain Kingsberry means to cross to the western shores and search every likely port for that schooner, and what is more, to search until he finds where she is.”

“Hah!” ejaculated the sailor. “If the skipper has said that, sir, he has spoken out like a man. Hooroar! We shall do it, then, at last. But I dunno, though, sir,” added the man thoughtfully.

“Don’t know what?” asked Murray.

“Oh, nothing, sir.”

“Bother! Don’t talk like that,” cried Murray. “Nothing is more aggravating than beginning to say something and then chopping it off in that way. Speak out and say what you mean.”

“’Tain’t no good, sir,” said the man sulkily.

“No good?”

“No, sir. Why, if I was to say what I’d got inside my head you’d either begin to bullyrag me – ”

“Nonsense, May! I’m sure I never do.”

“Well, then, sir, call me a hidjit, and say it was all sooperstition.”

“Well, that’s likely enough,” said Murray. “You sailors are full of old women’s tales.”

“Mebbe, sir,” said the man, shaking his head slowly; “but old women is old, and the elders do grow wise.”

“Sometimes, Tom,” said Murray, laughing, “and a wise old woman is worth listening to; but you can’t say that for a man who talks like a foolish old woman and believes in all kinds of superstitious nonsense.”

“No, sir: of course not, sir,” said the man solemnly; “but there is things, you know.”

“Oh yes, I do know that, Tom – such as setting sail with a black cat on board.”

“Oh, well, sir, come!” protested the sailor warmly. “You can’t say as a man’s a hidjit for believing that. Something always happens if you do that.”

“I could say so, Tom,” replied the middy, “but I’m not going to.”

“Well, sir, begging your pardon as gentleman, I’m werry sorry for it; but there, you’re very young.”

“Go on, Tom.”

“That’s all, sir. I warn’t going to say no more.”

“But you are thinking a deal more. That was as good as saying that I’m very young and don’t know any better.”

“Oh, I didn’t go so far as to think that, sir, because you’re a hofficer and a gentleman, and a scholar who has larnt more things than I ever heerd of; but still, sir, I dessay you won’t mind owning as a fellow as has been at sea from fourteen to four-and-thirty has picked up things such as you couldn’t larn at school.”

“Black cats, for instance, Tom?”

“Yes, sir. Ah, you may laugh to yourself, but there’s more than you think of about a black cat.”

“A black skin, for instance, Tom, and if the poor brute was killed and skinned he’d look exactly like a white cat or a tortoise-shell.”

“Oh, that’s his skin, sir; it’s his nature.”

“Pooh! What can there be in a black cat’s nature?”

“Don’t know; that’s the mystery on it.”

“Can’t you explain what the mystery is?”

“No, sir, and I never met a shipmate as could.”

“Bother the cat! It’s all rubbish, Tom.”

“Yes, sir, and it bothers the man; but there it is, all the same. You ask any sailor chap, and – ”

“Yes, I know, Tom; and he’ll talk just as much nonsense as you.”

“P’raps so, sir, but something bad allus happens to a ship as has a black cat aboard.”

“And something always happens to a ship that has any cat on board. And what is more, something always happens to a ship that has no cat at all on board. Look at our Seafowl, for instance.”

“Yes, sir, you may well say that,” said the man sadly. “The chaps have talked about it a deal, and we all says as she’s an unfortnit ship.”

“Oh, you all think so, do you, Tom?”

“Yes, sir, we do,” said the man solemnly.

“Then you may depend upon it, Tom, that there’s a black cat hidden away somewhere in the hold.”

“Ah! Come aboard, sir, in port, after the rats? That would account for it, sir, and ’splain it all,” cried the man eagerly. “You think that’s it, do you, sir?”

“No, I don’t, Tom; I’m laughing at you for being such an old woman. I did give you the credit of having more sense. I’m ashamed of you.”

“Thankye, sir,” said the man sadly.

“You are quite welcome, Tom,” said Murray, laughing; “but I suppose you can’t help all these weak beliefs.”

“No, sir, we can’t help it, some of us,” said the man simply; “it all comes of being at sea.”

“There being so much salt in the water, perhaps,” said Murray.

“Mebbe, sir; but I don’t see what the salt could have to do with it.”

“Neither do I, Tom, and if I didn’t know what a good fellow you are, and what a brave sailor, I should be ready to tell you a good deal more than I shall.”

“Go on, sir; I don’t mind, sir. I know you mean well.”

“But look here; I’m sorry to hear that your messmates think the Seafowl is an unfortunate craft. But not all, I hope?”

“Yes, sir; we all think so.”

“That’s worse still, Tom. But you don’t mean to forsake her – desert – I hope?”

“Forsake her – desert? Not me! She’s unlucky, sir, and no one can’t help it. Bad luck comes to every one sometimes, same as good luck does, sir. We takes it all, sir, just as it comes, just as we did over the landing t’other day – Titely was the unlucky one then, and got a spear through his shoulder, while though lots of their pretty weapons come flying about us no one else was touched; on’y got a bit singed. He took it like a man, sir.”

“That he did, Tom. It was most plucky of him, for he was a good deal hurt.”

“Yes, sir – deal more than you young gents thought for. But no, sir: forsake or desert our ship? Not we! She’s a good, well-found craft, sir, with a fine crew and fine officers. They ain’t puffick, sir; but they might be a deal worse. I’m satisfied, sir.”

“I believe you, Tom,” said Murray, laughing, “and there is no black cat on board, for if there were some one must have seen her or him before now, and it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.”

Chapter Seventeen.
Overhauling a Stranger

It was the very next morning just at daybreak that the lookout on the fore-top hailed the deck with the inspiriting cry that sent a thrill through all who heard, and brought the officer of the watch forward with his glass.

“Sail ho!”

A short inspection sufficed, and the news hurried the captain and Mr Anderson on deck.

“A schooner. The same rig!” exclaimed the captain, without taking his glass from his eye. “What do you make of her, Mr Anderson?”

“A schooner, sure enough, sir. The same heavy raking spars and spread of sails. It looks too good to be true, sir.”

“Hah! Then you think it is the same craft?”

“Yes, – no – I daren’t say, sir,” replied the lieutenant; “but if it is not it’s a twin vessel.”

“Yes,” said the captain, closing his glass with a snap. “We’ll say it’s the Yankee slaver, and keep to that till she proves to be something else.”

Holding to that belief, every stitch of canvas that could be crowded on was sent aloft, and a pleasant breeze beginning to dimple the water as the sun arose, the spirits of all on board the sloop rose as well. Soon, however, it began to be perfectly plain that the schooner sighted paid no heed whatever to the sloop of war, but kept on her course, sailing in a way that proved her to be unusually fast and able to hold her own so well that the spirits of those on the Seafowl began to sink again.

“Now we shall see what she’s made of, Dick,” said Murray excitedly, when a blank charge was fired.

“Made of impudence,” said Roberts quietly; “but there’s no doubt about her being the craft we want,” he continued, “for she means to set us at defiance, and she’s going to make a run for it, and you see if she doesn’t escape.”

“If she does,” cried Murray impetuously, “I shall say it’s a shame for the Government to send the captain out with such a crawler as the Seafowl. Why, for such a duty we ought to have the fastest sailer that could be built and rigged.”

Directly after, there was another gun fired from the sloop, and the course of the shot sent skipping over the sea could be traced till it sank to rise no more, after passing right across the schooner’s bows.

The men cheered, for in answer to this threat of what the sloop would do with her next gun, the schooner was seen to glide slowly round into the wind, her great sails began to flap, when in quick time, one of the cutters was manned, with the second lieutenant in command of the well-armed crew.

Roberts had been ordered to take his place in the stern sheets, and as he descended the rope he darted a look of triumph at Murray, whose face was glum with disappointment as he turned away; and as luck had it he encountered Mr Anderson’s eyes.

“Want to go, Mr Murray?” he said, smiling.

“Yes, sir, horribly,” was the reply.

“Off with you, then. Be smart!”

The next minute the lad had slipped down by the stern falls to where the officer in command made room for him; the hooks were cast off, the oars dipped, and the stout ash blades were soon quivering as the men bent to their work with their short, sharp, chopping stroke which sent the boat rapidly over the waves.

“I don’t see the Yankee captain,” said Mr Munday, searching the side of the vessel, which was now flying English colours.

“You think that fellow with the lugger was the captain?” asked Murray.

“Not a doubt of it,” was the reply. “I wonder what he’ll have the impudence to say.”

“He’ll sing a different song, sir,” said Roberts, “if he is on board.”

“If? Why, of course he’ll be on board; eh, Murray?”

“Most likely, sir; but won’t he be playing fox in some fresh way? He may be in hiding.”

“If he is he’ll come out when he finds a prize crew on board, and that his schooner is on its way to Capecoast Castle or the Cape. But I don’t see him, nor any of the sharp-looking fellows who formed his lugger’s crew.”

“No, sir,” said Murray, who was standing up shading his eyes with his hand. “I hope – ”

The middy stopped short.

“Well, go on, sir,” cried the lieutenant – “hope what?”

“That we are not making a mistake.”

“Oh, impossible! There can’t be two of such schooners.”

“But we only had a glimpse of the other, sir, as she sailed down the river half hidden by the trees,” said Murray.

“Look here, Mr Murray, if you can’t speak sensibly you’d better hold your tongue,” said the lieutenant angrily. “The captain and Mr Anderson are not likely to make a mistake. Everybody on board was of opinion that this is the same vessel.”

“Then I’ve made a mistake, sir,” said the midshipman. “But that can’t be the skipper, sir,” and he drew attention to a short, stoutish, sun-browned man who was looking over the side.

“Of course it is not, sir. Some English-looking fellow picked to throw us off our guard.”

But the officer in charge began to look uneasy as he scanned the vessel they were rapidly nearing, till the cutter was rowed alongside, several of the crew now plainly showing themselves and looking uncommonly like ordinary merchant sailors as they leaned over the bulwarks.

Directly after the coxswain hooked on, and the lieutenant, followed by two middies and four of the well-armed sailors sprang on board, to be greeted with a gruff —

“Morning. What does this here mean?”

“Why didn’t you heave to, sir?” cried the lieutenant sharply.

“’Cause I was below, asleep,” said the sturdy-looking skipper. “Are you the captain of that brig?”

“No, sir. What vessel’s this?”

“Because,” said the skipper, ignoring the question, “you’d better tell your captain to be careful. He might have done us some mischief. Any one would think you took me for a pirate.”

The lieutenant made no reply for a minute or two, being, like his two young companions, eagerly scanning the rather slovenly deck and the faces of the small crew, who were looking at their invaders apparently with wonder.

“Never mind what we took you for,” said the lieutenant sharply, and in a tone of voice which to Murray suggested doubt. “Answer me at once. What schooner’s this?”

“Don’t be waxy, sir,” said the skipper, smiling good-humouredly. “That’s reg’lar English fashion – knock a fellow over, and then say, Where are you shoving to! What’s yours?”

“H.M.S. Seafowl,” said the lieutenant haughtily. “Now then, will you answer?”

“Of course I will, Mr Lieutenant. This here is the schooner Laura Lee, of Bristol. Trading in sundries, machinery and oddments, loaded out at Kingston, Jamaica, and now for the West Coast to take in palm oil. Afterwards homeward bound. How does that suit you?”

Roberts and Murray exchanged glances, and then noted that the men were doing the same.

“Your papers, sir,” said the lieutenant.

“Papers?” said the skipper. “All right, sir; but you might put it a little more civil.”

“I am doing my duty, sir,” said the lieutenant sternly.

“All right, sir, all right; but don’t snap a man’s head off. You shall see my papers. They’re all square. Like to take anything? I’ve got a fine bottle or two of real Jamaica below.”

“No, sir; no, sir,” said the lieutenant sternly. “Business if you please.”

“Of course, sir. Come along to my cabin.”

“Lead on, then.”

The skipper took a few steps aft, and Roberts followed his officer, a couple of the sailors closing in behind, while two others with Murray kept the deck in naval fashion, though there seemed to be not the slightest need, for the schooner’s men hung about staring hard or leaned over the side looking at the men in the cutter.

“Here, I say,” said the skipper sharply, “I should have thought you could have seen plain enough that what I said was quite right. What do you take me for? Oh, I see, I see; your skipper’s got it in his head that I’m trading in bad spirits with the friendly niggers on the coast yonder; but I ain’t. There, I s’pose, though, you won’t take my word, and you’ve got to report to your skipper when you go back aboard.”

“If I do go back to report, sir,” said the lieutenant.

“If you do go back, sir? Oh, that’s it, is it? You mean if you take my schooner for a prize.”

“Perhaps so, sir. Now then, if you please, your papers.”

The skipper nodded and smiled.

“All right,” he said; “I won’t turn rusty. I s’pose it’s your duty.”

The papers were examined, and, to the officer’s disappointment, proved the truth of the skipper’s story.

“Now, if you please, we’ll have a look below, sir,” said the lieutenant.

“Very good,” said the skipper; and he hailed his men to open the hatches. “You won’t find any rum puncheons, captain,” he said.

“I do not expect to, sir; but I must be sure about your fittings below. This schooner has not been heavily rigged like this for nothing.”

“Course she arn’t, sir. I take it that she was rigged under my eyes on purpose to be a smart sailer worked by a smart crew. But my fittings? Here, I’ve got it at last: you’re one of the Navy ships on the station to put down the slave-trade.”

“Yes,” said the lieutenant shortly.

“Then good luck to you, sir! Hoist off those hatches my lad; the officer thinks we’re fitted up below for the blackbird trade. No, no, no, sir. There, send your men below, or go yourself, and I’ll come with you. You’ve got the wrong pig by the ear this time, and you ought to be off the coast river yonder where they pick up their cargoes. No, sir, I don’t do that trade.”

The lieutenant was soon thoroughly satisfied that a mistake had been made, and directly after, to his satisfaction, the skipper asked whether the captain would favour him with a small supply of medicine for his crew.

“I’m about run out of quinine stuff,” he said. “Some of my chaps had a touch or two of fever, and we’re going amongst it again. It would be an act of kindness, sir, and make up for what has been rather rough treatment.”

“You’d better come on board with me, and I’ve no doubt that the captain will see that you have what is necessary; and he will be as apologetic as I am now for what has been an unpleasant duty.”

“Oh, come, if you put it like that, squire, there’s no need to say any more. To be sure, yes, I’ll come aboard with you. I say; took many slavers?”

“No; not one.”

“That’s a pity. Always search well along the river mouths?”

“Yes.”

“Hah! They’re about too much for you. Now, if I was on that business, say I was on the lookout for these gentlemen, I shouldn’t do it here.”

“Where, then?” said the lieutenant eagerly.

“Well, I’ll tell you. As I said, they’re a bit too cunning for you. Of course you can sail up the rivers and blow the black chiefs’ huts to pieces. Them, I mean, who catch the niggers and sell ’em or swap ’em to the slave skippers; but that don’t do much good, for slavers slip off in the dark, and know the coast better than you do.”