"Aye," says he. "Ain't it, though?"
Something in his voice, and in the dank feel of that great, half empty deck, set the worms stirring inside me. I moved forward with the great heap of cargo, bales and boxes, on one side of me, and the starboard shelves on the other. It was all clean and holystoned, but there was a strange, heavy smell about it that I couldn't place. Looking about, I noticed something in the shadows at the back of the lower shelf — I reached in, and drew out a long length of light chain, garnished here and there with large bracelets. I stood staring at them, and then dropped them with a clatter as the truth rushed in on me. Now I saw why the Balliol College had sailed from France, why her deck was this strange shape, why she was only half-full of cargo.
"My G-d!" cries I. "You're a slaver!"
"Good for you, Mr Flashman!" says Spring. "And what then?"
"What then?" says I. "Well, you can turn your b d boat about, this minute, and let me ashore from her! By G-d, if I'd guessed what you were, I'd have seen you d––d, and old Morrison with you, before I set foot on your lousy packet!"
"Dear me," says he softly. "You're not an abolitionist, surely?"
"D—n abolition, and you too!" cries I. "I know that slaving's piracy, and for that they stretch your neck below high-water mark! You — you tricked me into this — you and that old swine! But I won't have it, d'ye hear? You'll set me ashore, and —"
I was striding past him towards the ladder, as he stood with his hands thrust deep in his pockets, eyeing me under the brim of his hat. Suddenly he shot out a hand, and with surprising strength swung me round in front of him. The pale eyes gazed into mine, and then his fist drove into my belly, doubling me up with pain; I reeled back, and he came after me, smashing me left and right to the head and sending me sprawling against the cargo.
"D—n you!" I shouted, and tried to crawl away, but he pinned me with his foot, glaring down at me.
"Now, see here, Mister Flashman," says he. "I didn't want you, but I've got you, and you'll understand, here and now, that while you're on this ship, you're mine, d'ye see? You're not going ashore until this voyage is finished — Middle Passage, Indies, homeward run and all. If you don't like slaving — well, that's too bad, isn't it? You shouldn't have signed aboard, should you?"
"I didn't sign! I never —"
"Your signature will be on the articles that are in my cabin this minute," says he. "Oh, it'll be there, sure enough — you'll put it there."
"You're kidnapping me!" I yelled. "My G-d, you can't do it! Captain Spring, I beg you — set me ashore, let me get off — I'll pay you — I'll —"
"What, and lose my new supercargo?" says this devil, grinning at me. "No, no. John Charity Spring obeys his owner's orders — and mine are crystal clear, Mister Flashman. And he sees to it that those aboard his ship obey his orders, too, ye hear me?" He stirred me with his foot. "Now, get up. You're wasting my time again. You're here; you'll do your duty. I won't tell you twice." And those terrible pale eyes looked into mine again. "D'ye understand me?"
"I understand you," I muttered.
"Sir," says he.
"Sir."
"Come," says he, "that's better. Now, cheer up, man; I won't have sulks, by G-d. This is a happy ship, d'ye hear? It should be, the wages we pay. There's a thought for you, Flashman — you'll be a d––d sight richer by the end of this voyage than you would be on a merchantman. What d'ye say to that?"
My mind was in a maze over all this, and real terror at what the consequences might be. Again I pleaded with him to be set ashore, and he slapped me across the mouth.
"Shut your trap," says he. "You're like an old woman. Scared are you? What of?"
"It's a capital crime," I whimpered.
"Don't be a fool," says he. "Britain doesn't hang slavers, nor do the Yankees, for all their laws say. Look about you — this ship's built for slaving, ain't she? Slavers who run the risk of getting caught aren't built so, with chains in view and slave decks and all. No, indeed, qui male agit odit lucem*[* The evil-doer hates the light.] — they pose as honest merchantmen, so if the patrols nab 'em they won't be impounded under the equipment regulations. The Balliol College needs no disguises — for the simple reason we're too fast and handy for any d––d patrol ship, English or American. What I'm telling you, Mister Flashman, is that we don't get caught, so you won't either. Does that set your mind at rest?"
It didn't, of course, but! knew better than to protest again. All I could think of was how the h—l I was going to get out of this. He took my silence for assent.
"Well enough," growls he. "You'll begin on this lot, then" — and he jerked a thumb at the cargo. "And for Christ's sake, liven up, man! I'll not have you glooming up this ship with a long face, d'ye see? At eight bells you'll leave off and come to my cabin — Mrs Spring will be serving tea for the officers, and will wish to meet you."
I didn't believe my ears. "Mrs Spring?"
"My wife," he snapped, and seeing my bewilderment: "Who the d—-l else would Mrs Spring be? You don't think I'd ship my mother aboard a slaver, do you?"
And with that he strode off, leaving me in a fine sweat. Thanks to an instant's folly, and the evil of that rotten little toad, my father-in-law, I was a member of the crew of a pirate ship, and nothing to be done about it. It took some digesting, but there it was; I suppose that after all the shocks I'd had in my young life this should have been nothing out of the way, but I found myself shuddering at the thought. Not that I'd any qualms about slaving, mark you, from the holy-holy point of view; they could have transported every nigger in Africa to the moon in chains for all I cared, but I knew it was a d––d chancy business — aye, and old Morrison had known that, too. So the old swine had his fingers in the blackbird pie — and I'll lay my life that was a well concealed ledger in his countinghouse — and had taken advantage of the Bryant affair to shanghai me into this. He had wanted me out of the way, and here was a golden chance of making sure that I would be away for good; no doubt Spring was right, and the Balliol College would come through her voyage safe, as most slavers did, but there was always the chance of being caught, and rotting your life away in jail, even if they didn't top you. And there was the risk of getting killed by niggers on the Slave Coast, or catching yellow jack or some foul native disease, as so many slaving crews did — oh, it was the perfect ocean cruise for an unwanted son-in-law. And Elspeth would be a widow, I would never see her, or England, again, for even if I survived the trip, word of it might get home, and I'd be an outlaw, a felon …
I sat down on the cargo with my head in my hands, and wept, and raged inwardly against that little Scotch scoundrel. G-d, if ever I had the chance to pay him back — but what was the use of thinking that way in my present plight? In the end, as usual, one thought came uppermost in my mind — survive, Flashy, and let the rest wait. But I resolved to keep my spite warm in the meantime.
In the circumstances it was as well that I had work to do; going through that cargo, as I did when a couple of hands and the ship's clerk came down presently, at least occupied part of my thoughts, and kept me from working myself into a terror about the future. After all, thinks I, men like these didn't sign on in the expectation of dying; they seemed handy, sober fellows who knew their business — very different from the usual tarry-john. One of them, an oldish man named Kirk, had been a slaver all his days, and had served on the notorious Black Joke;12 he wouldn't have shipped on any other kind of vessel.
"What," says he, "at £15 a month? I'd be a fool. D'ye know, I've four thousand quid put by, in Liverpool and Charleston banks — how many sailormen have the tenth of that? Risk? I've been impounded once, on the Joke, shipwrecked once, and seen two cargoes of black ivory slung overside — which meant a dead loss for the owners, but I drew me pay, didn't I? Oh, aye, I've been chased a score o' times, and been yard-arm to yard-arm in running fights wi' Limey an' Yankee patter-rollers, but no harm done. An' for sickness, ye've more chance of that from some poxed-up yellow tart in Havana than on the coast these days. You've been east — well, you know to keep yourself clean an' boil your water, then."