Five years! Jack stood watching Dred fumbling in his gunny-bag. Presently he fetched out a pair of yarn stockings. “Here, put these on,” said he, “the ones you got be all full of holes. Give ‘em to me.”
Jack did not dare to trust himself to speak. He began dumbly changing his stockings, Dred standing over him.
Suddenly the boatswain appeared at the companion-way of the forecastle, and piped all hands up on deck. Jack and Dred went up together. Captain Butts and the agent were standing waiting for the men, the agent holding a little packet of papers in his hand. Jack, in a glance, saw that the agent was a tall, lean man dressed in rusty black, wearing a long, black coat, and with the flaps of his hat tied up with leather thongs. His lips moved as he counted the redemptioners, one by one, as they came up out of the companion-way and were formed in a line before him by the boatswain. A great, flat boat, rowed by four negroes and with a white man in the stern, had been made fast to the side of the brig. “Nineteen, twenty—that’s all of ‘em, Captain,”—the agent had counted Jack in with the others,—“and very lucky you’ve been with ‘em. Now, Bo’s’n, get ‘em down as soon as you can.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” said the boatswain; and then to the men, “Now then, look alive, my hearties, and don’t take all day about it!”
Then, suddenly, Jack went straight up to where the agent stood. “Sir,” said he, hoarsely, “I have been ill-used. I was knocked down and kidnapped, and brought away from home against my will. Will you not listen to me and hear what I have to say?”
“No, I won’t, neither,” said Jack. He did not expect much, indeed he felt that he had no hope of escape, but still the effort was worth making. He stood chokingly looking at the agent, and he felt that his heart was beating very heavily within him.
“I don’t know anything about what you say,” said the agent. “The bill calls for twenty men shipped from Southampton, and your name must be among them. What’s your name?”
“Yes, here ’tis—John Ballister—shipped for five years. If there is something wrong, you’ll have to hold Captain Butts and Mr. Hezekiah Tipton to answer. I’m only an agent, and ’tis none of my business.”
“I wish I had ye for a couple of days longer,” said Captain Butts, “I’d answer ye, I would. I’d put my answer upon your back, I would, afore I let ye go.”