munition
and several chests of small arms. I tell you I will give you five
hundred pounds for your share."

His satisfaction was expressed by his silence.

"But," continued I, "we must act with judgment. What we have we must
keep. Are the negroes trustworthy men?"

"Yes, they are honest fellows. I wouldn't have shipped with them else."

"We shall not require much for ourselves," said I, "and the rest we'll
batten down and keep snug. There'll be some man[oe]uvring needed in
order to come off clear with this booty when we arrive: but there's
plenty of time to think that over, and our business till then is to look
after the ship and pray for luck to keep clear of anything hostile."

And then we fell to other talk; in the course of which he told me he was
an Englishman born, but having been pressed into a man-o-war, deserted
her at Halifax and made several voyages in American ships. He was
wrecked on the Peruvian coast and became a beachcomber, and then got a
berth in a whaler. He married at New Bedford and sailed with Captain
Tucker--this was his second whaling trip, he said, and he wanted no
more. I told him I was glad to learn that he was a countryman of mine,
but not surprised. His speech was well-larded with americanisms, "but,"
said I, "the true twang is wanting, and," added I, laughing, "I should
know you for Hampshire for all your reckons and guesses if I had to eat
you should I be mistaken."

"The press-gang's the best friend the Yankees has," said he a little
sheepishly. "Do any man suppose I hadn't sooner hail from my native town
Southampton than from New Bedford? Half the American foksles is made up
of Yankees who'd prove hearts of oak if it wasn't for the press."

His candour gratified me as showing that he already looked upon me as a
shipmate to be trusted, and, as I have said, this first chat with the
man left me strongly disposed to consider myself fortunate in having him
as an associate.

CHAPTER XXIX.

I VALUE THE LADING.

The day had been so full of business, there had been so much to engage
my mind, that it was not until I was seated at supper in the old
cook-room in which I had passed so many melancholy hours, that I found
myself able to take a calm survey of my situation, and to compare the
various motions of my fortunes. I could scarcely indeed believe that I
was not in a dream from which I should awake presently, and discover
myself still securely imprisoned in the ice, and all th