A walk of a few minutes brought him to the group on the shore, which
consisted of not more than a dozen persons, and half of them belonged to
the Bellevite. Christy halted before he reached the assemblage, in order
to listen to the eloquence of the captain of the West Wind. He talked
very glibly; and it did not take his outside auditor long to perceive
that he had been drinking somewhat freely, though he was not what
non-temperance men would have called intoxicated.
"I use my men well, and give 'em enough to eat and drink, and what's
good enough," the nautical orator declaimed with a double-handed
gesture. "Why, my friends, I gave each of the villains that deserted
the schooner a bottle of apple-jack. I don't drink it myself, but it is
good enough for niggers and sailors; in fact, my men liked it better'n
whiskey, because it's stronger. They served me a mighty mean trick, and
I'll give ten dollars apiece to have 'em fetched back to me. That's a
good chance for some on you to make some money tonight."
His audience listened to him as they would have done to a preacher with
whom they had no sympathy, and no one was tempted by the reward to go in
search of the deserters. Christy moved up nearer to the speaker. In his
disguise, with his face smooched with some of the color he had received
as a present from Mr. Gilfleur, the French detective, with whom he had
been associated on his cruise some months before, he did not appear at
all different from most of those who listened to Captain Sullendine.
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