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Excerpt: ...into the harbor, don''t you? The man assented with an inward chuckle, grasping the tiller-head firmly
Upon this, unperceived by the American, the two blacks eyed the sailor intently. Finding all right at the helm, the pilot went forward to the forecastle, to see how matters stood there. The ship now had way enough to breast the current. With the approach of evening, the breeze would be sure to freshen. Having done all that was needed for the present, Captain Delano, giving his last orders to the sailors, turned aft to report affairs to Don Benito in the cabin; perhaps additionally incited to rejoin him by the hope of snatching a moment''s private chat while the servant was engaged upon deck. From opposite sides, there were, beneath the poop, two approaches to the cabin; one further forward than the other, and consequently communicating with a longer passage. Marking the servant still above, Captain Delano, pg 223 taking the nighest entrance-the one last named, and at whose porch Atufal still stood-hurried on his way, till, arrived at the cabin threshold, he paused an instant, a little to recover from his eagerness. Then, with the words of his intended business upon his lips, he entered. As he advanced toward the seated Spaniard, he heard another footstep, keeping time with his. From the opposite door, a salver in hand, the servant was likewise advancing. Confound the faithful fellow, thought Captain Delano; what a vexatious coincidence. Possibly, the vexation might have been something different, were it not for the brisk confidence inspired by the breeze. But even as it was, he felt a slight twinge, from a sudden indefinite association in his mind of Babo with Atufal. Don Benito, said he, I give you joy; the breeze will hold, and will increase. By the way, your tall man and time-piece, Atufal, stands without. By your order, of course? Don Benito recoiled, as if at some bland satirical touch, delivered with such adroit garnish pg 224 of...
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