Mr Berecroft had made every preparation for his voyage, when an unexpected circumstance occurred, which eventually proved the occasion of great hardship and danger to Newton.  This was, the master of a large ship belonging to the same owners, and then lying in Carlisle Bay, to proceed homeward by the same convoy, had so ingratiated himself with a wealthy widow residing upon the island, that rather than he should again trust himself to the fickle element, she had been induced to surrender up to him her plantation, her negroes, and her fair self,—­all equally bound to honour and obey through their future lives.

Mr Berecroft, in consequence of this resignation of his brother captain, was appointed to the command of the larger vessel; and Jackson, the first mate, ordered to take the command of the Eliza and Jane.  This was a sad blow to Newton, and one which he could not avoid, as Mr Berecroft could not take him in his new ship,—­all the subordinate situations being already filled up.

At first, he was inclined to quit the brig; but by the advice of Mr Berecroft and Kingston, he was persuaded to go the passage home, as he was now first mate of the vessel, and would incur forfeiture of all wages if he broke the articles which he had signed at Liverpool.  Unpleasant as the prospect was, he was further induced by Berecroft’s assurance, that now Jackson was provided for, he would arrange with the owners that Newton should be appointed the first mate of his own ship, as soon as they arrived in England.

In a few days the men-of-war made their appearance.  Newton, who had remained on shore until the last moment, shook hands with his friendly patron, and thanking Mr Kingston for his kindness, went on board of the vessel with a sorrowful and foreboding heart.

Nor was he at all inclined to cheer up as he stepped on the deck of the brig, and beheld Jackson with a handspike, still brandishing over his head, standing across the body of one of the seamen, whom he had just dashed to the deck with the implement in his hand.  At the sight of Newton, the wrath of the new captain appeared to be increased.  He eyed him malevolently, and then observed, with a sneer, “That’s what all skulkers may expect on board of my vessel.”

Newton made no answer, and Jackson went forward, where the remainder of the crew were heaving up the anchor with the windlass.  Newton walked up to the seaman, who appeared still insensible, and examined him.  The iron plate at the end of the handspike had cut deep into the skull, and there was every appearance of a contusion of the brain.

Calling the boy who attended the cabin, Newton, with his assistance, carried the man below, and laid him in his berth.  He then repaired on deck, and took the helm, the anchor of the brig being atrip.  In a quarter of an hour the sail was on her, and she followed the course steered by the men-of-war, who were about to run through the other islands, and pick up several vessels, who were waiting for their protection.