erienced skipper had observed the change long ago--it
required only a glance to perceive it--the cutter herself, now lying at
anchor, beam-ends to the shore, indicated the change, for the Kroomen
had reported, that when she first anchored her head was pointed directly
for the land.

The slave-captain with chagrin observed this change in the wind, and
with an apprehension he had not before felt. Had the wind continued in
the same quarter as when the cruiser was first reported, he knew that he
could easily run out past her. The breeze would have then been upon his
own quarter, and in that way his crank-vessel sailed best; and by making
good speed along the diagonal line, he had calculated on being able to
get past, with only the risk from a long shot or two.

The change, however, was against him. The cruiser was directly out to
sea--about two miles from the river's mouth. He could not sail to
windward of her, as that would be too close to the wind for his own
vessel, unless he kept within range of shot; and it so happened that to
leeward there was a shoal, or long sand-bank, that stretched almost from
the shore to where the cutter was lying. There may have been a distance
of half a mile between the cutter and the edge of this shoal, but this
was not a sufficient width for running the gauntlet as the slave-captain
had intended. The warship, running down the wind, would easily have
intercepted the barque before she could have passed through, and given
the latter such a broadside as would have crippled and brought her to at
once.

I was standing near the skipper and his mate, and listening to their
horrid execrations as they perceived the dilemma they were in. I was
listening, because I was as much interested as they could have been in
the result--though with hopes and wishes directly antagonistic to
theirs--I was praying in my heart that we should be captured! Even at
the risk of being killed by a broadside from one of my own country's
ships, I could not help desiring this termination to the affair.

Even though I had been but a few minutes aboard, since the lading of the
cargo, I was already impressed with the awful scene--I felt pity--keen
compassion--blended with loathing. The horrid howling of the blacks,
crowded to suffocation below--their cries of entreaty, and, at times, of
menace--were a foretaste of what I should be compelled to listen to for
weeks, perhaps months. Oh! it would be a fearful existence.