ome strange
conversations, suspicions of a most painful character formed themselves
in my mind and I began to dread that I had got into the company of real
ruffians indeed.

These suspicions were at length confirmed, and to the fullest extent.

For several days after setting sail the hatches had been down and
covered with tarpaulings. The weather had continued breezy, and as
there was little occasion to go below they had been kept thus, though
now and again a half-hatch had been lifted as something was required
from the lower deck or the hold. I myself had not been sent below on
any errand, and had never seen the cargo, though I had been told that it
consisted chiefly of brandy, and we were going with it to the Cape of
Good Hope.

After a while, however, when the weather became fine, or rather when we
had sailed into a southern latitude where it is nearly always fine, the
tarpaulings were taken off, the hatches--both main and fore--were thrown
open, and all who wished passed down to the "'tween decks" at their
pleasure.

Curiosity, as much as aught else, took me below; and I there saw what
not only confirmed my suspicions but filled me with disgust and horror.
The cargo, which was all down in the hold, and none of it on the lower
deck, certainly appeared--what it had been represented--a cargo of
brandy; for there were the great puncheons, scores of them, in the hold.
Besides these there were some boxes of merchandise, a quantity of bar
iron, and a large pile of bags which appeared to contain salt.

All this I saw without any uneasiness. It was not these that produced
within me the feeling of disgust and horror. It was a pile of
manufactured iron that lay upon the lower deck; iron wrought into
villainous shapes and hideous forms, that, notwithstanding my
inexperience, I at once recognised as shackles, manacles and fetters!
What wanted the _Pandora_ with these?

But the secret was now out. I needed to employ conjectures no longer.
The carpenter was at work upon some strong pieces of oak timber, which
he was shaping into the fashion of a grating, I perceived that it was
intended for the hatchway.

I needed no more light. I had read of the horror of the "middle
passage." I recognised the intention of the carpenter's job. I no
longer doubted that the _Pandora_ was a slaver!

CHAPTER NINE.

Yes--beyond a doubt I was on board a slave-ship--one regularly fitted up
for the inhuman traffic--manned for it.