It happened that the crew of the schooner, who were all slaves, were exactly in the same situation as Newton, when their vessels came in contact—­viz., fast asleep.  The shock had awakened them; but they were all below except the one who had kept such a remarkably good watch.

Exhausted as Newton was, he could not but smile at his uninterrupted possession of the vessel’s decks.  Anxious to have communication with the people on board, he sat down, awaiting their coming up from below.  In a minute or two, a black head was seen to rise slowly and fearfully out of the fore-scuttle; then it disappeared.  Another rose up and went down again as before; and thus it went on until Newton reckoned ten different faces.  Having individually ascertained that there was but one man, and that one not provided with any weapons, the negroes assumed a degree of courage.  The first head that had made its appearance, the woolly hair of which was of a grizzly gray from age, was again popped up the fore-scuttle, with an interrogatory to Newton, in French, who he was, and what he wanted?  Newton, who did not understand a word of the language, shook his head, and, opening his hands and extending his arms, to show that he had no means of defence, he beckoned to them to come up.  The man’s head had again disappeared, and, after a little demur, nine or ten negroes crawled up out of the fore-scuttle, one after another, each with some weapon or another by way of security.  They remained on the forecastle of the vessel until the last was up; and then at a nod given by their grizzle-headed leader, they advanced aft in a body towards Newton.  Newton rose and pointed to the boat, which had now drifted about a quarter of a mile astern.  He then made signs to give them to understand that he had been wrecked.

“Apparemment c’est un pauvre miserable, qui a fait naufrage,” observed the old negro, who appeared to have the charge of the vessel; “Gustave Adolphe, tu parles bien l’Anglais; demandez-lui les nouvelles,” continued the old man, folding his arms across, and looking very big indeed, as he reclined against the mainmast of the vessel.

Gustave Adolphe stood forward from the rest of the negroes.  He was a short, fat, shiny-faced fellow, with his hair platted into about fifty little tails.  He first bowed to his old commander, then placing his arms akimbo, walked up to Newton, and looking him full in the face, commenced his duty of interpreter, as follows:—­

“I say—­God dam—­”

Newton smiled.

“Oui, monsieur, c’est un Anglais.”

“Continuez, Gustave Adolphe,” replied the old negro, with a majestic air.

Gustave Adolphe, with another bow, resumed: 

“I say—­where com?”

“Barbadoes,” replied Newton.

“Monsieur, il vient de Barbadoes.”

“Continuez, Gustave Adolphe,” replied his superior, with a wave of his hand.

“I say—­where go?”