"

"You have men enough and to spare. Lend me three of your hands to help
me to the Thames, and I'll repay you thus; there should be near a
hundred tons of wine and brandy, of exquisite vintage, and choice with
age beyond language in the hold. Take what you will of that freight;
there'll be ten times the value of your lay in your pickings, modest as
you may prove. Help yourself to the clothes in the cabin and forecastle;
they will turn to account. For the men you will spare, and who will
volunteer to help me, this will be my undertaking: the ship and all that
is in her to be sold on her arrival, and the proceeds equally divided.
Shall we call it a thousand pounds apiece? Captain, she's well found:
her inventory would make a list as long as you; I'd name a bigger sum,
but here she is, you shall overhaul her hold and judge for yourself."

I watched him anxiously. No man spoke, but every eye was upon him. He
sat pulling down the hair on his chin, then, jumping up on a sudden and
extending his hand, he cried, "Shake! it's a bargain, if the men 'll
jine."

"I'll jine!" exclaimed a man.

There was a pause.

"And me," said the negro.

I was glad of this, and looked earnestly at the others.

"Is she tight?" said a man.

"As a bottle," said I.

They fell silent again.

"Joe Wilkinson and Washington Cromwell--them two jines," said the
captain. "Bullies, he wants a third. Don't speak all together."

The man named "Bill" at this moment returned to the cook-room, and
reported all well above. My offer was repeated to him, but he shook his
head.

"This is the Horn, mates," said he. "There's a deal o' water 'tween this
and the Thames. How do she sail?--no man knows."

"I want none but willing men," said I. "Americans make as good sailors
as the English. What an English seaman can face any of you can. There is
another negro in the boat. Will you let him step aboard, captain? He may
join."

A man was sent to take his place. Presently he arrived, and I gave him a
cup of punch.

"'Splain the business to him, sir," said the captain, filling his
pannikin; "his name's Billy Pitt."

I did so; and when I told him that Washington Cromwell had offered, he
instantly said, "All right, massa, I'll be ob yah."

This was exactly what I wanted, and had there been a third negro I'd
have preferred him to the white man.

"But how are you going to navigate this craft home with three men?" said
the man "Bill" to me.

"There'll be