“I know you will do this,” she replied, “and if my looks betrayed any anxiety, it was not for our safety, but for your own, Captain Ratlin.”

“My safety, lady? do you then consider that worth your anxiety?” he asked, with unmistakable earnestness in his voice.

“You have been more than kind to us, sir,” she continued, “you have been preserver, protector, and friend, and it were strange if I did not feel an interest for your welfare.”

This she uttered so ingenuously, so frankly, that it seemed not in the least indelicate or forward, while it thrilled the young commander’s heart.

“Lady, since the moment you came on board, and I heard the tones of your voice, a strange interest sprang up in my heart, an indescribable one, and now that you express an interest in a poor wanderer’s fate, you attach to it a value that he himself has never regarded it as possessing.  But I read your suspicions, you have feared the worst—­your looks have betrayed it, and you were ready to believe that I am a—­”

“Pirate!” almost groaned his companion, “You are not, pray say you are not.”

“Not so bad as that, lady.”

“But you are then—­”

“A slaver!” said the young commander, turning from her and moodily walking the deck; with a contracted brow and uneven step.

CHAPTER VIII.

The quadroon.

For several days succeeding that upon which Captain Ratlin had avowed himself to his fair young companion to be engaged in the slave trade upon the coast of Africa, the “Sea Witch” was occupied in running in towards the land and exchanging signals with friends on shore, and then standing off and on to watch a favorable moment for running to an anchorage, without encountering one of the English or American cruisers stationed on the coast.  During this time the young commander and his fair passenger found much time for conversation, and she strove with all that power of persuasion and delicacy of tact peculiar to her sex, to point out to the adventurous and generous-hearted commander the fearful responsibility of the course he was pursuing.

Perhaps no other agent would have accomplished so much as she did—­indeed, no other could for a moment have gained his ear, and the result even to herself was very apparent, very satisfactory.  He, all unconsciously yielded every argument to her, was only too ready and willing to grant her the fullest accordance in what she asked or argued, for though he dared not to say so, yet he felt that already he loved the mild yet eloquent and lovely girl with a devotion that caused all other interests to fade in importance.  It was a novel idea to him to realize that so fair and gentle a creature could entertain such sufficient interest in him, a rough sailor, to strive and mould his conduct for good.