f course the girl shook her head, but appeared to wish to understand
the question, while the Portuguese laughed and seemed amused with the
Englishman's eccentricities.

"Look here, now," resumed the tar, slapping his own chest vigorously,
"Disco, Disco, Disco, that's me--Disco. And this man," (patting his
companion on the breast) "is Harold, Harold, that's him--Harold. Now,
then," he added, pointing straight at the girl, "you--what's you name,
eh?"

A gleam of intelligence shot from the girl's expressive eyes, and she
displayed a double row of beautiful teeth as in a low soft voice she
said--"Azinte."

"Azinte? come, that's not a bad name; why, it's a capital one. Just
suited to 'ee. Well, Azinte, my poor girl," said Disco, with a fresh
outburst of feeling, as he clenched his horny right hand and dashed it
into the palm of his left, "if I only knew how to set you free just now,
my dear, I'd do it--ay, if I was to be roasted alive for so doin'. I
would!"

"You'll never set anybody free in this world," said Harold Seadrift,
with some severity, "if you go on talking and acting as you have done
to-day. If these men had not, by good fortune, been ignorant of our
language, it's my opinion that they would have blown our brains out
before this time. You should restrain yourself, man," he continued,
gradually dropping into a remonstrative and then into an earnestly
confidential tone; "we are utterly helpless just now. If you did
succeed in freeing that girl at this moment, it would only be to let her
fall into the hands of some other slave-owner. Besides, that would not
set free all the other slaves, male and female, who are being dragged
from the interior of Africa. You and I _may_ perhaps do some small
matter in the way of helping to free slaves, if we keep quiet and watch
our opportunity, but we shall accomplish nothing if you give way to
useless bursts of anger."

Poor Lillihammer was subdued.

"You're right Mister Seadrift, you're right, sir, and I'm a ass. I
never _could_ keep my feelings down. It's all along of my havin' bin
made too much of by my mother, dear old woman, w'en I was a boy. But
I'll make a effort, sir; I'll clap a stopper on 'em--bottle 'em up and
screw 'em down tight, werry tight indeed."

Disco again sent his right fist into the palm of his left hand, with
something like the sound of a pistol-shot to the no small surprise and
alarm of the Portuguese, and, rising, went out to cool his