"Here, you, Sopsy!" he continued in a loud voice.
A lantern was burning on the companion, which enabled the party to see that the waist of the vessel was compactly packed with bales of cotton.
The schooner seemed to be of considerable size, and Christy thought she must be loaded with a very large cargo of the precious merchandise.

In answer to the captain's call, Sopsy, who proved to be the negro cook of the vessel, presented himself.
"All these people want something to eat, Sopsy.

Let the crew eat in the deck-house for'ad, and bring a lunch into the cabin right off," continued Captain Sullendine.
"Yis, sar," replied the cook with emphasis.

"Git 'em quicker'n a man kin swaller his own head.

Libes dar a man wid soul so dead"-- "Never mind the varse, Sopsy," interposed the captain.
"-- As never to hisself have said"-- "Hurry up, Sopsy!" "He don't say dat, Massa Cap'n," added the cook, as he shuffled off over the bales of cotton.
"Hullo there, Bokes! Where are you, Bokes ?" called the captain again.
"On deck, Cap'n," replied a white man, crawling out from a small opening in the bales.
"Wake up, Bokes! You ain't dead yet." "No, sir; wide awake's a coon in a hencoop," added the man, who appeared to be one of the two left on board by the deserters, the cook being the other.
"Be alive, Bokes! Here, wait a minute!" and the captain ran down the companion ladder to the cabin, from which he presently appeared with a bottle in each hand.