As the cutter neared, Murray noted that the strange boat was manned by a little crew of keen-looking blacks, not the heavy, protuberant-lipped, flat-nosed, West Coast "n.i.g.g.e.rs," but men of the fierce-looking tribes who seem to have come from the east in the course of ages and have preserved somewhat of the Arabic type and its keen, sharp intelligence of expression.

But the midshipman had not much time for observation of the little crew, his attention being taken up directly by the dramatic-looking entrance upon the scene of one who was apparently the skipper or owner of the lugger, and who had evidently been having a nap in the shade cast by the aft lugsail, and been awakened by the shot to give the order which had thrown the lugger up into the wind.

He surprised both the lieutenant and Murray as he popped into sight to seize the side of his swift little vessel and lean over towards the approaching cutter, as, s.n.a.t.c.hing off his wide white Panama hat, he pa.s.sed one duck-covered white arm across his yellowish-looking hairless face and shouted fiercely and in a peculiar tw.a.n.g--

"Here, I say, you, whoever you are, do you know you have sent a bullet through my fores'l?"

"Yes, sir. Heave to," said the lieutenant angrily.

"Wal, I have hev to, hevn't I, sirr? But just you look here; I don't know what you thought you was shooting at, but I suppose you are a Britisher, and I'm sure your laws don't give you leave to shoot peaceful traders to fill your bags."

"That will do," said the lieutenant sternly. "What boat's that?"

"I guess it's mine, for I had it built to my order, and paid for it.

Perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me what your boat is and what you was shooting at?"

"This is the first cutter of Her Majesty's sloop of war _Seafowl_," said the lieutenant sternly, "and--"

But the American cut what was about to be said in two by crying in his sharp nasal tw.a.n.g--

"Then just you look here, stranger; yew've got hold of a boat as is just about as wrong as it can be for these waters. I've studied it and ciphered it out, and I tell yew that if yew don't look out yew'll be took by one of the waves we have off this here coast, and down yew'll go. I don't want to offend yew, mister, for I can see that yew're an officer, but I tell yew that yew ought to be ashamed of yewrself to bring your men along here in such a hen c.o.c.k-sh.e.l.l as that boat of yourn."

"Why, it's as seaworthy as yours, sir," said the lieutenant good-humouredly.

"Not it, mister; and besides, I never go far from home in mine."

"From home!" said the lieutenant keenly. "Where do you call home?"

"Yonder," said the American, with a jerk of his head. "You ain't got no home here, and it's a mercy that you haven't been swamped before now.

Where have you come from?--the Cape?"

"No," said the lieutenant; "but look here, sir, what are you, and what are you doing out here?"

"Sailing now," said the American.

"But when you are ash.o.r.e?"

"Rubber," said the man.

"What, trading in indiarubber?"

"Shall be bimeby. Growing it now--plantation."

"Oh," said the lieutenant, looking at the speaker dubiously. "Where is your plantation?"

"Up the creek yonder," replied the American, with another nod of his head towards the coast.

"Oh," said the lieutenant quietly; "you have a plantation, have you, for the production of rubber, and you work that with slaves?"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" laughed the American, showing a set of very yellow teeth. "That's what you're after, then? I see through you now, cyaptain. You're after slave-traders."

"Perhaps so; and you confess yourself to be one," said the lieutenant.

"Me?" said the American, laughing boisterously again. "Hev another try, cyaptain. Yew're out this time. Ketch me trying to work a plantation with West Coast n.i.g.g.e.rs! See those boys o' mine?"

"Yes; I see your men," replied the lieutenant.

"Them's the stuff I work with. Pay 'em well and they work well. No work, no pay. Why, one of those fellows'd do more work for me in a day than one of the blacks they come here to buy up could do in a week."

"Then slave-traders come here to buy, eh?"

"Yes, they do," replied the man, "but 'tain't none of my business. They don't interfere with me, and I don't interfere with them. Plenty of room here for both. Yew're after them, then?"

"Yes," said the lieutenant frankly.

"Phew!" whistled the man, giving his knees a slap. "Why, you'll be after the schooner that came into this river this morning?"

"Possibly," said the lieutenant, while Murray felt his blood thrill in his veins with the excitement of the position. "What schooner was it?"

"Smart sailing craft, with long rakish masts?"

"Yes, yes," said the lieutenant; "I know all about that. A slaver, eh?"

The American half shut his eyes as he peered out of their corners at the British officer, and a queer smile puckered up his countenance.

"Slaving ain't lawful, is it, mister?" he said.

"You answer my question," said the lieutenant testily.

"Means confiscation, don't it?"

"And that is not an answer," cried the lieutenant angrily.

"Yew making a prize of that theer smart schooner from her top-masts down to her keel, eh?"

"Will you reply to what I say?" cried the lieutenant. "Is she a slaver?"

"Lookye here, mister," said the American, grinning. "S'pose I say _yes_, you'll jest confiscate that there schooner when her skipper and her crew slips over the side into the boats and pulls ash.o.r.e."

"Perhaps I may," said the lieutenant shortly.

"Exackly so, mister. Then you sails away with her for a prize, eh?"

"Possibly," said the lieutenant coldly.

"And what about me?"

"Well, what about you?"