the skipper struck a hand-bell which stood
on the cabin table; in response to which summons a black steward, clad,
like his master, in dingy white, made his appearance from the
neighbouring pantry. Our host thereupon formed his right hand into the
shape of a cup and raised it to his mouth, at the same time exhibiting
three fingers of his left hand; and the steward, nodding and grinning
his comprehension of the mute order, withdrew, to reappear next moment
with a case-bottle of rum, three glasses, and a water-monkey, or porous
earthen jar, full of what proved, on our pouring it out, to be a very
doubtful-looking liquid.

"Help yourselves, gentlemen," said our host, pushing the rum-bottle and
water-monkey towards us. "I ain't got no wine aboard to offer you, but
the liquor is real old Jamaica, and the water is genuine Mississippi;
they make a first-grade mixture. But perhaps you prefer to take your
liquor `straight;' I always do."

And he forthwith practically illustrated the process of taking liquor
"straight" by half-filling his tumbler with neat rum, which he swallowed
at a single gulp. He then rose and retired to his state-room in search
of his papers; leaving us to sip our five-water grog meanwhile.

The papers were produced, examined, and found to be perfectly correct;
after which Smellie set himself to the task of "pumping" our new
acquaintance; without much result, though we certainly managed to obtain
one bit of valuable information from him.

"Whether there's slavers or no in this rivulet, I'll just leave you to
find out, stranger," he remarked, in answer to a question of Smellie's;
"I'm here about my own business, and you're here about yourn; you can't
interfere with me; and I won't interfere with you. But I don't mind
tellin' you that if you'd been here five days ago you'd have had a
chance of nabbin' the _Black Venus_, the smartest slaver, I guess,
that's ever visited this section of our sublunary sphere."

"Indeed!" exclaimed Smellie eagerly. "What sort of a craft is she?
What is she like?"

"She is a brig,"--I pricked up my ears at this, and so, too, I could
see, did Smellie--"of about three hundred tons register; long, and low
in the water; mounts fourteen guns, seven of a side, and a long 32-
pounder on her forecastle. Has very tall sticks, with a rake aft; and a
tremendous spread of `caliker.' And she's the fastest craft in all
creation. _Your_ ship looks as if she could travel; but I 'low