I now come to that part of the narrative which deals with the turning-point of our luck on this cruise.

Since Renshaw’s leaving left much of the influence to be desired out of the enterprise, Mr. Curtis began to feel anxious about his responsibility in the matter. It is true the gentleman was an outcast from his own people, but he was a nobleman, for all that, and the governor of New Providence would be much influenced by him. It might be necessary to have a friend at hand in case something unpleasant turned up, especially as the laws governing slaves were becoming more and more strict.

The bos’n was suspected in having aided Tim to escape from the barque. At any rate, he was responsible for him. He was an American also, and often when the seaman would come upon the poop, Curtis would find some harsh word to say to him. Afterward he would complain to Howard 153so bitterly at the bos’n’s insolence that the old captain began to experience some of the landsman’s bad temper.

The discipline of the ship had been good, save for the incidents of the run on the beach. Now the real cruise had begun and there was no more chance for desertion, the strictest laws of a war-ship were easy in comparison to those enforced.

This put much work upon Richards, and began to make unnecessary friction between him and the men. Between the hard feeling caused by Curtis aft, and the steady grumbling of such men as Martin and some of his followers forward, the bos’n began to have an unpleasant time of it, and a most desperate affray was averted on several occasions only by his steadiness and coolness of temper.

One day the bos’n was called to attend to some repairs on the wheel-ropes.

Mr. Curtis saw him, and either inadvertently or deliberately jostled him as he came along the poop. Hawkson saw the affair, and hastened to avert trouble, but was too late. Curtis very foolishly kicked the bos’n savagely and swore at him before all the men of the watch on deck. Richards, true to his creed, lashed out most vigorously, and knocked the landsman half-way across the deck before Hawkson caught him. It was only Hawkson’s steadiness of purpose that prevented a general mix-up on 154board, for Curtis insisted upon the sailor being flogged. Richards swore he would kill the man who laid hands on him, and, as he had several friends forward, including myself, who would have stood by him, and as he had the chief officer aft, there was a deal of trouble before anything like order prevailed. When the outfly was patched up by Yankee Dan and Sir John, who saw the danger of such affairs, there was no longer anything like smoothness again. The bos’n never attempted to give an order, and went about his duties with a set smile, which I tried to fathom on several occasions and received a cold silence for my pains. Then I knew trouble was coming, and prepared for it, caring little, however, just when and in what shape it would appear.

For a day or two we dragged slowly over the blue water. The royals would pull a bit in the light air, but our wake was not a long one.

On the third day, I was cleaning the forward gun to windward, gazing over the beautiful calm water. To the southward the deepening blue of the sky seemed to show in peculiar contrast to the ocean, and, while I gazed over the vast distance, the water streaked and darkened under the light draughts. The royals came to the masts every now and then, when the breeze died almost entirely, and 155flapped gently, coming full again as the barque swung herself to windward on the swell.

Miss Allen was on the poop with Mr. Curtis, and that saturnine young man, Hicks, was standing aft gazing at them with an expression far from pleasant upon his handsome face.

I became aware of a low, vibrant, wailing murmur coming out of the sunlit void to the south’ard. It was like the cry I had heard before and had had such an effect upon poor Tim.

Yankee Dan’s daughter evidently heard it, for she straightened up and listened, gazing steadily to windward. As the cry rose and fell, dying away as the breeze increased, it thrilled me through and through.

“What’s the matter?” asked Henry, who had come up and noticed my intense look.

“Don’t you hear it?” I asked.

“S’pose Hi do; it’s nothin’. Have ye cooled off?”

It was the first time he had spoken directly to me since the affair with the hounds, and I took it for an overture of friendship.

“If you squeeze my hand, I’ll brain you,” I said, and held it out. He took it, smiling.

“What made ye bolt, anyways?” he asked. “Hi could git ye anywheres on that island. Hi had to pay fer that dog ye killed, too.”

156He seated himself beside me, as it was nearly eight bells, and we talked a few minutes, he describing the amusement caused by the two hounds loosed into the room of Thunderbo’s dance-hall.

“’Twas a fine sight, Heywood, to see that bloodhound grab the conch by the heel. If Hi hadn’t stopped there to laugh it out, Hi wud ha’ bust wide open. There he was hanging out the window, with Jones a-pullin’ one way an’ the dog the other, while the Doctor whanged him over the buttocks as they stretched ’im over the sill.”

I felt little like laughing, although the scene of confusion must have been amusing to an uninterested spectator. Had he taken us sooner, the other affair would not have followed.

“I cud ’a’ taken ye, but Hi had to laugh at that conch,” explained Henry. “What d’yer s’pose makes my fingers so big, anyways?”

“Poking them in other people’s business,” said I.

“An’ that’s a fact,” he answered. “Poking them in other people’s business. Man, I was chief garroter in Havana onct, an’ I ’as strangled more men than there is in this ship. Hi ’av’ been a detective an’ a executioner both. That’s how I know how to handle dogs. Save ye, Heywood, d’ye suppose Hawkson would ’a’ let you fellows loose ashore ef he didn’t know Hi’d bring ye back all standin’, as the sayin’ is?”

157Henry had never app............