having come to this conclusion, i acted on it. i kept the cab at the door while i finished my packing with a rush, and then piled my luggage on it and in it—and what with my two trunks, and my kit of fine tools, and all my bundles, this made tight stowing—and then away i went down-town again as fast as the man could drive with such a load.
we got to the battery in a little more than an hour, and there i transshipped my cargo to a pair-oared boat and started away for the anchorage. the boatmen comforted me a good deal at the outset by saying that they thought they knew just where the golden hind was lying, as they were pretty sure they had seen her only that morning while going down the harbor with another fare; and before we were much more than past bedloe's island—having pulled well over to get out of the channel and the danger of being run down by one of the swarm of passing craft—they made my mind quite easy by actually pointing her out to me. but almost in the same moment i was startled again by one of them saying to me: "i don't believe you've much time to spare, captain. there's a lighter just shoved off from her, and she's gettin' her tops'ls loose. i guess she means to slide out on this tide. that tug seems to be headin' for her now."
the men laid to their oars at this, and it was a good thing—or a bad thing, some people might think—that they did; for had we lost five minutes on our pull down from the battery i never should have got aboard of the golden hind at all. as it was, the anchor was a-peak, and the lines of the tug made fast, by the time that we rounded under her counter; and the decks were so full of the bustle of starting that it was only a chance that anybody heard our hail. but somebody did hear it, and a man—it was the mate, as i found out afterwards—came to the side.
"hold on, captain," one of the boatmen sang out, "here's your passenger!"
"go to hell!" the mate answered, and turned inboard again.
but just then i caught sight of captain chilton, coming aft to stand by the wheel, and called out to him by name. he turned in a hurry—and with a look of being scared, i fancied—but it seemed to me a good half-minute before he answered me. in this time the men had shoved the boat alongside and had made fast to the main-chains; and just then the tug began to puff and snort, and the towline lifted, and the brig slowly began to gather way. i could not understand what they were up to; but the boatmen, who were quick fellows, took the matter into their own hands, and began to pass in my boxes over the gunwale—the brig lying very low in the water—as we moved along. this brought the mate to the side again, with a rattle of curses and orders to stand off. and then captain chilton came along himself—having finished whatever he had been doing in the way of thinking—and gave matters a more reasonable turn.
"it's all right, george," he said to the mate. "this gentleman is a friend of mine who's going out with us" (the mate gave him a queer look at that), "and he's got here just in time." and then he turned to me and added: "i'd given you up, mr. stetworth, and that's a fact—concluding that the man i sent to your lodgings hadn't found you. we had to sail this afternoon, you see, all in a hurry; and the only thing i could do was to rush a man after you to bring you down. he seems to have overhauled you in time, even if it was a close call—so all's well."
while he was talking the boatmen were passing aboard my boxes and bundles, while the brig went ahead slowly; and when they all were shipped, and i had paid the men, he gave me his hand in a friendly way and helped me up the side. what to make of it all i could not tell. captain luke told a straight enough story, and the fact that his messenger had not got to me before i started did not prove that he lied. moreover, he went on to say that if i had not got down to the brig he had meant to leave my fifty dollars with the palm-oil people at loango, and that sounded square enough too. at any rate, if he were lying to me i had no way of proving it against him, and he was entitled to the benefit of the doubt; and so, when he had finished explaining matters—which was short work, as he had the brig to look after—i did not see my way to refusing his suggestion that we should call it all right and shake hands.
for the next three hours or so—until we were clear of the hook and had sea-room and the tug had cast us off—i was left to my own devices: except that a couple of men were detailed to carry to my state-room what i needed there, while the rest of my boxes were stowed below. indeed, nobody had time to spare me a single word—the captain standing by the wheel in charge of the brig, and the two mates having their hands full in driving forward the work of finishing the lading, so that the hatches might be on and things in some sort of order before the crew should be needed to make sail.
the decks everywhere were littered with the stuff put aboard from the lighter that left the brig just before i reached her, and the huddle and confusion showed that the transfer must have been made in a tearing hurry. many of the boxes gave no hint of what was inside of them; but a good deal of the stuff—as the pigs of lead and cans of powder, the many five-gallon kegs of spirits, the boxes of fixed ammunition, the cases of arms, and so on—evidently was regular west coast "trade." and all of it was jumbled together just as it had been tumbled aboard.
i was surprised by our starting with the brig in such a mess—until it occurred to me that the captain had no choice in the matter if he wanted to save the tide. very likely the tide did enter into his calculations; but i was led to believe a little later—and all the more because of his scared look when i hailed him from the boat—that he had run into some tangle on shore that made him want to get away in a hurry before the law-officers should bring him up with a round turn.
what put this notion into my head was a matter that occurred when we were down almost to the hook, and its conclusion came when we were fairly outside and the tug had cast us off; otherwise my boxes and i assuredly would have gone back on the tug to new york—and i with a flea in my ear, as the saying is, stinging me to more prudence in my dealings with chance-met mariners and their offers of cheap passages on strange craft.
when we were nearly across the lower bay, the nose of a steamer showed in the narrows; and as she swung out from the land i saw that she flew the revenue flag. captain luke, standing aft by the wheel, no doubt made her out before i did; for all of a sudden he let drive a volley of curses at the mates to hurry their stowing below of the stuff with which our decks were cluttered. at first i did not associate the appearance of the cutter with this outbreak; but as she came rattling down the bay in our wake i could not but notice his uneasiness as he kept turning to look at her and then turning forward again to swear at the slowness of the men. but she was a long way astern at first, and by the time that she got close up to us we were fairly outside the hook and the tug had cast us off—which made a delay in the stowing, as the men had to be called away from it to set enough sail to give us steerage way.
captain luke barely gave them time to make fast the sheets before he hurried them back to the hatch again; and by that time the cutter had so walked up to us that we had her close aboard. i could see that he fully expected her to hail us; and i could see also that there seemed to be a feeling of uneasiness among the crew, though they went on briskly with their work of getting what remained of the boxes and barrels below. and then, being close under our stern, the cutter quietly shifted her helm to clear us—and so slid past us, without hailing and with scarcely a look at us, and stood on out to sea.
that the captain and all hands so manifestly should dread being overhauled by a government vessel greatly increased my vague doubts as to the kind of company that i had got into; and at the very moment that the cutter passed us these doubts were so nearly resolved into bad certainties that my thoughts shot around from speculation upon captain luke's possible perils into consideration of what seemed to be very real perils of my own.
with the cutter close aboard of us, and with the captain and both the mates swearing at them, i suppose that the men at the hatch—who were swinging the things below with a whip—got rattled a little. at any rate, some of them rigged the sling so carelessly that a box fell out from it, and shot down to the main-deck with such a bang that it burst open. it was a small and strongly made box, that from its shape and evident weight i had fancied might have arms in it. but when it split to bits that way—the noise of the crash drawing me to the hatch to see what had happened—its contents proved to be shackles: and the sight of them, and the flash of thought which made me realize what they must be there for, gave me a sudden sick feeling in my inside!
in my hurried reading about the west coast—carried on at odd times since my meeting with the palm-oil people—i had learned enough about the trade carried on there to know that slaving still was a part of it; but so small a part that the matter had not much stuck in my mind. but it was a fact then (as it also is a fact now) that the traders who run along the coast—exchanging such stuff as captain luke carried for ivory and coffee and hides and whatever offers—do now and then take the chances and run a cargo of slaves from one or another of the lower ports into mogador: where the arab dealers pay such prices for live freight in good condition as to make the venture worth the risk that it involves. this traffic is not so barbarous as the old traffic to america used to be—when shippers regularly counted upon the loss of a third or a half of the cargo in transit, and so charged off the death-rate against profit and loss—for the run is a short one, and slaves are so hard to get and so dangerous to deal in nowadays that it is sound business policy to take enough care of them to keep them alive. but i am safe in saying that the men engaged in the mogador trade are about the worst brutes afloat in our time—not excepting the island traders of the south pacific—and for an honest man to get afloat in their company opens to him large possibilities of being murdered off-hand, with side chances of sharing in their punishment if he happens to be with them when they are caught. and so it is not to be wondered at that when i saw the shackles come flying out from that broken box, and so realized the sort of men i had for shipmates, that a sweating fright seized me which made my stomach go queer. and then, as i thought how i had tumbled myself into this scrape that the least shred of prudence would have kept me out of, i realized for the second time that day that i was very young and very much of a fool.
