My word, the niggers came
easy. It was virgin ground. Since the _Scottish Chiefs_, no recruiter
had ever even tried to work the coast; and we'd already put the fear of
God into the niggers' hearts till the whole coast was quiet as lambs.
When we filled up, we came back to see how the _Martha_ was progressing."
"And thinking we was going home with our recruits," Sparrowhawk slipped
in. "Lord lumme, that Miss Lackland ain't never satisfied. 'I'll take
'em on the _Martha_,' says she, 'and you can go back and fill up again.'"
"But I told her it couldn't be done," Munster went on. "I told her the
_Martha_ hadn't a license for recruiting. 'Oh,' she said, 'it can't be
done, eh?' and she stood and thought a few minutes."
"And I'd seen her think before," cried Sparrowhawk, "and I knew at wunst
that the thing was as good as done."
Munster lighted his cigarette and resumed.
"'You see that spit,' she says to me, 'with the little ripple breaking
around it? There's a current sets right across it and on it. And you
see them bafflin' little cat's-paws? It's good weather and a falling
tide. You just start to beat out, the two of you, and all you have to do
is miss stays in the same baffling puff and the current will set you
nicely aground.
Pages:
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206