Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine.“I was afraid something was wrong,” he said. “And look here, Morgan, I want to live at peace with all the world, but self-preservation is the first law of nature, and I would rather you did not leave the place again unarmed.—Well, George,” he continued, turning to me, “where have you been?”I told him of our adventure, and he was thoughtful for a few moments.“You must go together in the morning and kill the thing,” he said. “I don’t like destroying life, but these wild creatures of the forest and swamp must give way to man. If they do not they must perish. All deadly creatures must be killed without mercy. There is not room in the parts of the earth we chose to live in for both.”Consequently, after making our arrangements, I called Morgan at daybreak, and we took a gun and ammunition to execute the alligator.“Be a lesson for you in the use of a firelock, Master George,” said Morgan, as we travelled on across our clearing, and paused at the edge of the forest. “Now then, my lad,” he cried, giving his orders in a military way, and bidding me load.I had seen the charging of a gun often enough to be able to go through the task sufficiently well to get a few words of commendation, but a good many of blame.“Ram well home, my lad. I like to see the rod hop again, and the powder solid.”“What difference does it make?” I asked.“All the difference in the world, my lad. Powder’s rum stuff, and good loading makes it do its work well. Bad loading makes it do its work anyhow.”“I don’t understand you,” I said.“It’s easy enough, sir. S’pose I take a charge of powder, and lay it loose on a stone. If I set light to it there’s a puff and some smoke, and that’s all, because it has plenty of room. But if I shut it up tight in a gun-barrel rammed down hard, it goes off with a loud bang, because it has to burst its way out. If you ram lightly, the bullet will go only a little way. If you ram hard, your bullet will go straight to the mark.”“There it is then, rammed hard,” I said, as I made the ramrod ring.“That’s right. Now you shall shoot the ’gator. Some folks say their skin’s too hard for the bullet to go through. We shall see.”We went on together toward our landing-place, and then on and away to the left, following our previous day’s trail more and more into the swamp, beside the river, talking about the fight we had had with the reptile, Morgan laughingly saying that he should like to have another with one twice as big, while I thought I should not, but did not say so.The morning was delightful, with the birds piping and singing, and in the open sunny parts we caught sight of the lovely orange orioles, and those all yellow and black—birds which took the place of our thrushes and blackbirds of the old country. Every now and then a tall crane would fly up from where he had been prodding about with his sharp bill in some mossy pool, his long legs trailing out behind him as if he had been dancing on stilts.It had all grown familiar to me now, but I was never tired of gazing at the dark, shadowy places where the cypresses rose right out of the black water, and the great trailing moss, ten and fifteen feet long, hung down from the boughs like ragged veils. The place looked as if it might be the haunt of large, water-loving serpents, or strange beasts which lurked in waiting for the unwary traveller; but we heard nothing but the cries of birds and the rustling and beating of wings, or the hum of insect life, save now and then when there was a splash from the river away to our right, or from a black pool hidden from us by the dense growth.“Make some of ’em stare over at home, Master George,” said Morgan.“What at?”“Place like this. Miles and miles of it, and no use made of it. Round here! That’s right. Remember that old rotten tree?”“Yes,” I said; “we must be close to the place now. How near shall I stand to the alligator when I shoot?”“Oh, just as near as you like. Mind that hole; I shouldn’t wonder if another one lived there.”I stepped quickly aside from the ugly-looking spot, and felt so vexed on seeing my companion smile, that I turned back and stood looking down into the place, forcing myself to do so quietly, and then following in a deliberate way, though all the time I could not help feeling a kind of shuddering sensation run over me, as if I had suddenly stepped out of the hot woodland into a current of fresh cool air.I glanced at Morgan as I overtook him, but he did not say anything, only trudged on till, suddenly laying his hand upon my arm, he pointed to a tree dimly-seen through the overhung shades.“That’s the one I tied the line to,” he said; “now I shouldn’t wonder if we find he has scratched himself a hole in the soft earth. It’s nearly half water, and I dare say he could easy.”“And if he has, what then?”“Why, we must pull him back by the rope. He won’t make much of a struggle; it will be too tight round his neck, and choke him so. There, what did I tell you!”He pointed to where the rope ran down from the tree apparently into the ground.“But if he had scratched a hole,” I said, “he would have made a heap.”“Oh no; it’s all so soft as soon as you get through the roots. He’d worm himself down right out of sight in no time, and— Well, I am took aback.”Morgan had stooped down and picked up the noose. The alligator had gone.“Somebody must have set him free, Morgan.”“Somebody? What somebody would do that? There arn’t no monkeys about here as I know of, or it might have been one of them. Nobody else would do it. Ah, I see.”He pointed to the noose, and showed me how the rope was frayed and teazled out, as if by the application of claws.“That’s it, plain enough. He’s had all night to do it in, and there he has been scrat, scrat, scrat, scrat at his neck with those fore-paws of his, till he got it loose and pushed it over his head.”“Nonsense!” I said; “a thing like that wouldn’t be clever enough.”“I don’t know,” said Morgan. “They’re clever enough to hunt and catch dinners by slapping the water with their tails till the fish are stunned; they’re clever enough to make nests and lay eggs; and this one was clever enough to try and cut me down with his tail, and I don’t see that it was so very wonderful for him to try and scratch off anything that hurt his neck. Mind that gun, my lad; you don’t want to shoot me, I know.”I coloured, and felt vexed at my clumsiness in the way of carrying the loaded piece, and stood watching while Morgan untied the rope from the tree, rolled it up in a ring, fastened it, and put his arm through before turning back.“Never mind,” he said, cheerily, “better luck next time. Now let’s get home to breakfast. I dare say he has gone down to the river and got his long enough ago.”We walked back to find a couple of men from the settlement—which promised some day to be a town—and as I caught sight of them, I felt sure that it was bad news which they had brought, and my father’s serious face confirmed the idea as he spoke to one of the men.“Yes; tell the General I will be there in good time,” my father was saying, as we came within earshot; and the men saluted and went off in regular military style, for many of them who had now turned settlers and farmers had served in the army with the leaders of the expedition. And often, on thinking it over since, I have felt how wise a selection of men there was; for, as you have yet to learn, it was highly necessary to have folk who could turn their swords and spears into ploughshares and sickles; but who, when it was necessary, could turn them back and use them in the defence of their new homes.“Have the Indians come back, father?” I asked, eagerly.He looked round quickly, starting slightly, for he had not seen me approach, and he was deep in thought.“No, boy,” he said, sighing, “but it seems we are not to enjoy our homes in peace; a new enemy is in the field.”I looked at him, waiting to hear more, but he was silent, and began walking slowly to and fro till breakfast was ready.During the meal he said suddenly—“Put on the best things you have, my boy. I am going up to the settlement this morning. I thought you would like to go.”I was not long in getting ready as soon as the meal was ended, and, to my surprise, I found my father in uniform, and with his sword by his side; but he looked so quiet and stern that I did not like to question him, and walked on steadily by his side, as he drew himself up and marched forward, just as if his clothes had brought back old days, and made him the stern, firm soldier once more.It was a glorious walk. The sun was scorchingly hot, but our whole way was between the great sweet-scented pines, whose needle-like leaves glistened like silver as they reflected back the sun’s beams, and shaded our way. After a time we began to have glimpses of the big river, and at last as we approached an opening I caught sight of a large ship, and uttered an exclamation.“Yes,” said my father, as he saw what had taken my attention; “it is a fine ship, but unfortunately she is not a friend.”I looked up at him inquiringly.“Spaniard,” he said, laconically. “The Spaniards have a settlement down in the south, and they have taken it into their heads that we are trespassers. I am going to be one of those who meet the officers this morning.”Our walk was soon at an end, and my eyes were busy noting the way in which houses had sprung up in large patches of land, spread along at a short distance from the bank of the broad river into which our stream ran, and evidently marked out regularly and running for some distance back.It was the beginning of a town, but as I saw it then, it was a collection of houses and goodly gardens, with plantations of corn, sugar-cane, and cotton, all growing luxuriantly among the trees, which had been left standing here and there.The scene was as animated as it was beautiful. Boats lay at anchor, dotted about in the glistening river, and right out, a quarter of a mile from the shore, lay the Spanish vessel with her colours flying, and a large boat lying alongside; while on shore I could see several of the gentlemen I knew by sight, dressed like my father in uniform, and mostly walking two and two in deep converse.I had eyes for everything, and the picture I saw was soon printed vividly in my imagination; one object that I remember well being the English flag, which was blowing out from the top of a pole, which I soon saw was not planted by man, being a tall straight pine which had been lopped and smoothed down till it was exactly suited for the purpose to which it was put.Another thing too struck me, and that was the fact that though the greater part of the men I saw about, standing idling and evidently watching the ship with its boat alongside, were familiar to me, there was quite a number of black faces, whose owners were loosely clad in white cotton shirt and breeches, talking together, showing their white teeth, and basking in the sun.“Yes,” said my father, as I looked inquiringly at him, “and it has been in opposition to my wishes; but I am only one against many—they are slaves.”Directly after, Colonel Preston came out of the largest of the wooden houses in company with another officer, and as they caught sight of my father, they hastened their pace and came towards him.“Ah, Bruton,” said the colonel, “you have come.”“Yes,” said my father, smiling, as he shook hands with both; “and you had been thinking that as I was such an opponent of many of your measures, and held myself so much aloof, I should stay away.”“Well,” said the colonel, who seemed startled by my father’s words, “I must confess I—”“Had not much faith in me, Preston. But I hope that in any emergency where my help is required, I shall not be found wanting.”“I am sure of it. I beg your pardon for my ungenerous thoughts,” said the colonel, warmly; “and I am sorry that you and I do not always think the same.”“Whatever we may think, Preston,” said my father, warmly, “I hope we shall always hold each other in esteem.”“I know we shall,” cried the colonel; and he shook hands warmly with me. “Glad to see you, youngster,” he said; “but be quick and grow into a man. We want sturdy fellows who can handle a sword, and fight for their land.”“Then they are aggressive, Preston?” said my father.“Aggressive! You never heard such overbearing insolence.”“Yes, insolence,” said the other officer. “Would you believe it, Captain Bruton; they demand that we shall immediately give up this land—this settlement which we have taken in the name and by permission of his Majesty the King—and go.”“Where?” said my father, gravely.“Ah, that they do not say,” cried Colonel Preston. “An officer has come with this command from the governor of their settlement, and, in the customary haughty style of the overbearing Spaniard, the message has been delivered, and the ambassador is coming to meet us at the General’s in about an hour for our reply as to how soon we shall be gone.”“That sounds Spanish,” said my father. “Then they do not propose to reimburse us for all that we have done, or to find us another settlement?”“No, no, no,” cried the colonel, angrily; “our orders are to go—to evacuate the settlement at once.”“That would be a painful task if we had to submit.”“Submit!” said the colonel, angrily. “Surely, Bruton, you would not advocate such a plan after all that we have done?”My father made no reply, but turned to look thoughtfully at the Spanish ship, while the colonel seemed to be raging with anger.“You will be present at the meeting, of course?” he said.“Yes,” said my father, quickly; “I have come on purpose. We must have this peaceably settled if possible.”“Good heavens!” cried the colonel. “Ah, here is the General,” he cried, as the quiet, grave, benevolent man came up, dressed in a very shabby uniform, whose gold lace was sadly frayed and tarnished. “Hark here, sir; Captain Bruton talks of a peaceful settlement of this difficulty.”“Indeed!” said the General, frowning; and I looked at him eagerly, as I recalled that he it was who had been spoken of as the leader of our expedition. “Well, we shall see.”“And very shortly too,” said Colonel Preston, warmly, “for here they come.”All eyes were directed toward the large boat which had just pushed away from the Spaniard, and which was now running rapidly toward the shore, with the blades of the oars flashing, the flag in the stern-sheets trailing in the water, and the glint of weapons seen now and then, showing that those on board were well-armed. Then the General spoke.“Preston and Crayford, have the goodness to receive these Spanish gentlemen, and bring them up to my house. The rest, I hope, will assemble quickly there, so that I can hear what they have to say.”This had evidently all been planned over night, for the officers in uniform all seemed to be making fast for the house out of which I had seen the General come, and before many minutes had elapsed the room was thronged, and I was standing behind my father, who was close to where the General stood.Not a word was spoken, and in the silence I could hear plainly the noise made by the sailors in laying in their oars, after which there was a pause, and then plainly heard there were the tramp of men, the buzz of voices. About a dozen soldiers halted outside, and four tall, dark, handsome-looking Spanish officers were ushered in by Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford.Seats were proffered, but declined, and all remained standing, while the Spanish officers conferred together for a few moments before one, who seemed the youngest and lowest in rank, stepped forward, and in fair English said haughtily—“Gentlemen, I have come for your answer to the communication brought to you last night from the governor of his most sacred Majesty’s possessions here in America. What is it to be?”“Let me say first, sir,” said the General, quietly, “that we do not recognise the authority here of the King of Spain. We are on ground belonging to his Majesty the King of England.”“You are interlopers, sir, on the colonial possessions of his Majesty the King of Spain,” said the young officer, coldly. “When will you have evacuated this land?”“What is to be our reply, gentlemen?” said the General, looking round. “Am I to send word back that you will give up tamely, and submit to this demand?”“No, no, no,” rose in an angry roar throughout the room.“You alone were silent, Captain Bruton,” said the General, sternly. “Have you nothing to say?”“Yes,” said my father, who turned very white; and he took a step forward. “Sir,” he said to the Spanish officer, “is the governor of your settlement aware that we are no trespassers here, but that we came under the authority of his Majesty King George?”“I believe all that has been discussed, sir,” said the officer, coldly. “Again I ask, how soon will you evacuate this place?”“You are hasty, sir,” said my father; and a murmur arose in the room. “Gentlemen,” he continued, turning towards his brother officers and members of the expedition, “bear with me for a few moments.”There was another murmur and then silence, with every eye fixed angrily upon my father’s face, as he turned once more to the Spanish officers.“Gentlemen,” he said, “all of us who are here consider that we are acting within our rights in taking and holding this land, which you see we have turned from a wilderness into a smiling home. The question of right seems to be in dispute. Cannot it be peacefully settled, for the sake of all? I think we can convince your governor that we are only acting within our rights.”The Spanish officer who was evidently the leader said a few words angrily to the interpreter, who nodded shortly.“Your answer?” he said, haughtily.“That we demand a peaceable solution of this difficulty, and that there be no bloodshed.”“When will you go?” cried the young Spaniard aggressively, and amidst a low angry murmur I saw my father’s face flush, as he took another step forward, and raising his sword with his left hand he clapped his right down upon the hilt.A silence fell upon all, and his words rang out loudly and clearly as he exclaimed with his eyes flashing and his brows knit—“When our hands have no longer strength to draw our swords, sir—when the last man has been beaten down in our struggle for liberty and life—when we have again taught haughty, overbearing Spain that the English race is not one to draw back—when—I beg your pardon, General,” said my father, stopping short.“Go on, sir,” said the General, sternly. “I would not wish for a better exponent of my views.”“Then go, sir,” continued my father, “and tell the man who sent you that we are, all whom you see here, Englishmen who have made this our home—men who mean to keep what we have won in defiance of Spain and all her hosts.”“Is this your answer?” said the Spanish officer, sternly, as soon as silence came after a tremendous cheer.“Yes,” cried the General, “that is our answer, gentlemen, so go in peace.”“Yes, sir,” said the Spaniard, after a few muttered words with his companions, “to return in war.”His defiance was received in calm silence, and he and his companions were led out again by Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford, not a word being spoken till they had been seen to march down to the rough quay, embark, and row off to their ship.It was not till Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford had returned, full of excitement, that the silence was broken by the General.“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “what have you to say?”“God save the King!” said my father, enthusiastically.“Then you will all fight in defence of your hearths and homes?”A tremendous cheer was the answer.“Well, then,” said the General, “we must be prepared. I look upon it all as an empty, insolent piece of bombast; but whatever it is, we must not be taken unawares. Help shall be at once asked from England, and meantime we must do all we can to place ourselves in a state of defence.”“Well, George,” said my father, as we walked back home, seeing the sails of the Spaniard set, and that she was gliding slowly down the river, “what have you to say to all this?”“I should like to know whether the Spaniards will come back.”“Ah, that remains to be proved, my boy. We shall see.”“Not they,” said Morgan, when I told him, and he was listening eagerly to my account of what had taken place. “If we were Indians perhaps they would; but we’re Englishmen and Welshmen, look you. No, my lad, we’re more likely to see those Indians. Depend upon it, all that Spaniel said was a bit of bounce.”

“I was afraid something was wrong,” he said. “And look here, Morgan, I want to live at peace with all the world, but self-preservation is the first law of nature, and I would rather you did not leave the place again unarmed.—Well, George,” he continued, turning to me, “where have you been?”

I told him of our adventure, and he was thoughtful for a few moments.

“You must go together in the morning and kill the thing,” he said. “I don’t like destroying life, but these wild creatures of the forest and swamp must give way to man. If they do not they must perish. All deadly creatures must be killed without mercy. There is not room in the parts of the earth we chose to live in for both.”

Consequently, after making our arrangements, I called Morgan at daybreak, and we took a gun and ammunition to execute the alligator.

“Be a lesson for you in the use of a firelock, Master George,” said Morgan, as we travelled on across our clearing, and paused at the edge of the forest. “Now then, my lad,” he cried, giving his orders in a military way, and bidding me load.

I had seen the charging of a gun often enough to be able to go through the task sufficiently well to get a few words of commendation, but a good many of blame.

“Ram well home, my lad. I like to see the rod hop again, and the powder solid.”

“What difference does it make?” I asked.

“All the difference in the world, my lad. Powder’s rum stuff, and good loading makes it do its work well. Bad loading makes it do its work anyhow.”

“I don’t understand you,” I said.

“It’s easy enough, sir. S’pose I take a charge of powder, and lay it loose on a stone. If I set light to it there’s a puff and some smoke, and that’s all, because it has plenty of room. But if I shut it up tight in a gun-barrel rammed down hard, it goes off with a loud bang, because it has to burst its way out. If you ram lightly, the bullet will go only a little way. If you ram hard, your bullet will go straight to the mark.”

“There it is then, rammed hard,” I said, as I made the ramrod ring.

“That’s right. Now you shall shoot the ’gator. Some folks say their skin’s too hard for the bullet to go through. We shall see.”

We went on together toward our landing-place, and then on and away to the left, following our previous day’s trail more and more into the swamp, beside the river, talking about the fight we had had with the reptile, Morgan laughingly saying that he should like to have another with one twice as big, while I thought I should not, but did not say so.

The morning was delightful, with the birds piping and singing, and in the open sunny parts we caught sight of the lovely orange orioles, and those all yellow and black—birds which took the place of our thrushes and blackbirds of the old country. Every now and then a tall crane would fly up from where he had been prodding about with his sharp bill in some mossy pool, his long legs trailing out behind him as if he had been dancing on stilts.

It had all grown familiar to me now, but I was never tired of gazing at the dark, shadowy places where the cypresses rose right out of the black water, and the great trailing moss, ten and fifteen feet long, hung down from the boughs like ragged veils. The place looked as if it might be the haunt of large, water-loving serpents, or strange beasts which lurked in waiting for the unwary traveller; but we heard nothing but the cries of birds and the rustling and beating of wings, or the hum of insect life, save now and then when there was a splash from the river away to our right, or from a black pool hidden from us by the dense growth.

“Make some of ’em stare over at home, Master George,” said Morgan.

“What at?”

“Place like this. Miles and miles of it, and no use made of it. Round here! That’s right. Remember that old rotten tree?”

“Yes,” I said; “we must be close to the place now. How near shall I stand to the alligator when I shoot?”

“Oh, just as near as you like. Mind that hole; I shouldn’t wonder if another one lived there.”

I stepped quickly aside from the ugly-looking spot, and felt so vexed on seeing my companion smile, that I turned back and stood looking down into the place, forcing myself to do so quietly, and then following in a deliberate way, though all the time I could not help feeling a kind of shuddering sensation run over me, as if I had suddenly stepped out of the hot woodland into a current of fresh cool air.

I glanced at Morgan as I overtook him, but he did not say anything, only trudged on till, suddenly laying his hand upon my arm, he pointed to a tree dimly-seen through the overhung shades.

“That’s the one I tied the line to,” he said; “now I shouldn’t wonder if we find he has scratched himself a hole in the soft earth. It’s nearly half water, and I dare say he could easy.”

“And if he has, what then?”

“Why, we must pull him back by the rope. He won’t make much of a struggle; it will be too tight round his neck, and choke him so. There, what did I tell you!”

He pointed to where the rope ran down from the tree apparently into the ground.

“But if he had scratched a hole,” I said, “he would have made a heap.”

“Oh no; it’s all so soft as soon as you get through the roots. He’d worm himself down right out of sight in no time, and— Well, I am took aback.”

Morgan had stooped down and picked up the noose. The alligator had gone.

“Somebody must have set him free, Morgan.”

“Somebody? What somebody would do that? There arn’t no monkeys about here as I know of, or it might have been one of them. Nobody else would do it. Ah, I see.”

He pointed to the noose, and showed me how the rope was frayed and teazled out, as if by the application of claws.

“That’s it, plain enough. He’s had all night to do it in, and there he has been scrat, scrat, scrat, scrat at his neck with those fore-paws of his, till he got it loose and pushed it over his head.”

“Nonsense!” I said; “a thing like that wouldn’t be clever enough.”

“I don’t know,” said Morgan. “They’re clever enough to hunt and catch dinners by slapping the water with their tails till the fish are stunned; they’re clever enough to make nests and lay eggs; and this one was clever enough to try and cut me down with his tail, and I don’t see that it was so very wonderful for him to try and scratch off anything that hurt his neck. Mind that gun, my lad; you don’t want to shoot me, I know.”

I coloured, and felt vexed at my clumsiness in the way of carrying the loaded piece, and stood watching while Morgan untied the rope from the tree, rolled it up in a ring, fastened it, and put his arm through before turning back.

“Never mind,” he said, cheerily, “better luck next time. Now let’s get home to breakfast. I dare say he has gone down to the river and got his long enough ago.”

We walked back to find a couple of men from the settlement—which promised some day to be a town—and as I caught sight of them, I felt sure that it was bad news which they had brought, and my father’s serious face confirmed the idea as he spoke to one of the men.

“Yes; tell the General I will be there in good time,” my father was saying, as we came within earshot; and the men saluted and went off in regular military style, for many of them who had now turned settlers and farmers had served in the army with the leaders of the expedition. And often, on thinking it over since, I have felt how wise a selection of men there was; for, as you have yet to learn, it was highly necessary to have folk who could turn their swords and spears into ploughshares and sickles; but who, when it was necessary, could turn them back and use them in the defence of their new homes.

“Have the Indians come back, father?” I asked, eagerly.

He looked round quickly, starting slightly, for he had not seen me approach, and he was deep in thought.

“No, boy,” he said, sighing, “but it seems we are not to enjoy our homes in peace; a new enemy is in the field.”

I looked at him, waiting to hear more, but he was silent, and began walking slowly to and fro till breakfast was ready.

During the meal he said suddenly—

“Put on the best things you have, my boy. I am going up to the settlement this morning. I thought you would like to go.”

I was not long in getting ready as soon as the meal was ended, and, to my surprise, I found my father in uniform, and with his sword by his side; but he looked so quiet and stern that I did not like to question him, and walked on steadily by his side, as he drew himself up and marched forward, just as if his clothes had brought back old days, and made him the stern, firm soldier once more.

It was a glorious walk. The sun was scorchingly hot, but our whole way was between the great sweet-scented pines, whose needle-like leaves glistened like silver as they reflected back the sun’s beams, and shaded our way. After a time we began to have glimpses of the big river, and at last as we approached an opening I caught sight of a large ship, and uttered an exclamation.

“Yes,” said my father, as he saw what had taken my attention; “it is a fine ship, but unfortunately she is not a friend.”

I looked up at him inquiringly.

“Spaniard,” he said, laconically. “The Spaniards have a settlement down in the south, and they have taken it into their heads that we are trespassers. I am going to be one of those who meet the officers this morning.”

Our walk was soon at an end, and my eyes were busy noting the way in which houses had sprung up in large patches of land, spread along at a short distance from the bank of the broad river into which our stream ran, and evidently marked out regularly and running for some distance back.

It was the beginning of a town, but as I saw it then, it was a collection of houses and goodly gardens, with plantations of corn, sugar-cane, and cotton, all growing luxuriantly among the trees, which had been left standing here and there.

The scene was as animated as it was beautiful. Boats lay at anchor, dotted about in the glistening river, and right out, a quarter of a mile from the shore, lay the Spanish vessel with her colours flying, and a large boat lying alongside; while on shore I could see several of the gentlemen I knew by sight, dressed like my father in uniform, and mostly walking two and two in deep converse.

I had eyes for everything, and the picture I saw was soon printed vividly in my imagination; one object that I remember well being the English flag, which was blowing out from the top of a pole, which I soon saw was not planted by man, being a tall straight pine which had been lopped and smoothed down till it was exactly suited for the purpose to which it was put.

Another thing too struck me, and that was the fact that though the greater part of the men I saw about, standing idling and evidently watching the ship with its boat alongside, were familiar to me, there was quite a number of black faces, whose owners were loosely clad in white cotton shirt and breeches, talking together, showing their white teeth, and basking in the sun.

“Yes,” said my father, as I looked inquiringly at him, “and it has been in opposition to my wishes; but I am only one against many—they are slaves.”

Directly after, Colonel Preston came out of the largest of the wooden houses in company with another officer, and as they caught sight of my father, they hastened their pace and came towards him.

“Ah, Bruton,” said the colonel, “you have come.”

“Yes,” said my father, smiling, as he shook hands with both; “and you had been thinking that as I was such an opponent of many of your measures, and held myself so much aloof, I should stay away.”

“Well,” said the colonel, who seemed startled by my father’s words, “I must confess I—”

“Had not much faith in me, Preston. But I hope that in any emergency where my help is required, I shall not be found wanting.”

“I am sure of it. I beg your pardon for my ungenerous thoughts,” said the colonel, warmly; “and I am sorry that you and I do not always think the same.”

“Whatever we may think, Preston,” said my father, warmly, “I hope we shall always hold each other in esteem.”

“I know we shall,” cried the colonel; and he shook hands warmly with me. “Glad to see you, youngster,” he said; “but be quick and grow into a man. We want sturdy fellows who can handle a sword, and fight for their land.”

“Then they are aggressive, Preston?” said my father.

“Aggressive! You never heard such overbearing insolence.”

“Yes, insolence,” said the other officer. “Would you believe it, Captain Bruton; they demand that we shall immediately give up this land—this settlement which we have taken in the name and by permission of his Majesty the King—and go.”

“Where?” said my father, gravely.

“Ah, that they do not say,” cried Colonel Preston. “An officer has come with this command from the governor of their settlement, and, in the customary haughty style of the overbearing Spaniard, the message has been delivered, and the ambassador is coming to meet us at the General’s in about an hour for our reply as to how soon we shall be gone.”

“That sounds Spanish,” said my father. “Then they do not propose to reimburse us for all that we have done, or to find us another settlement?”

“No, no, no,” cried the colonel, angrily; “our orders are to go—to evacuate the settlement at once.”

“That would be a painful task if we had to submit.”

“Submit!” said the colonel, angrily. “Surely, Bruton, you would not advocate such a plan after all that we have done?”

My father made no reply, but turned to look thoughtfully at the Spanish ship, while the colonel seemed to be raging with anger.

“You will be present at the meeting, of course?” he said.

“Yes,” said my father, quickly; “I have come on purpose. We must have this peaceably settled if possible.”

“Good heavens!” cried the colonel. “Ah, here is the General,” he cried, as the quiet, grave, benevolent man came up, dressed in a very shabby uniform, whose gold lace was sadly frayed and tarnished. “Hark here, sir; Captain Bruton talks of a peaceful settlement of this difficulty.”

“Indeed!” said the General, frowning; and I looked at him eagerly, as I recalled that he it was who had been spoken of as the leader of our expedition. “Well, we shall see.”

“And very shortly too,” said Colonel Preston, warmly, “for here they come.”

All eyes were directed toward the large boat which had just pushed away from the Spaniard, and which was now running rapidly toward the shore, with the blades of the oars flashing, the flag in the stern-sheets trailing in the water, and the glint of weapons seen now and then, showing that those on board were well-armed. Then the General spoke.

“Preston and Crayford, have the goodness to receive these Spanish gentlemen, and bring them up to my house. The rest, I hope, will assemble quickly there, so that I can hear what they have to say.”

This had evidently all been planned over night, for the officers in uniform all seemed to be making fast for the house out of which I had seen the General come, and before many minutes had elapsed the room was thronged, and I was standing behind my father, who was close to where the General stood.

Not a word was spoken, and in the silence I could hear plainly the noise made by the sailors in laying in their oars, after which there was a pause, and then plainly heard there were the tramp of men, the buzz of voices. About a dozen soldiers halted outside, and four tall, dark, handsome-looking Spanish officers were ushered in by Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford.

Seats were proffered, but declined, and all remained standing, while the Spanish officers conferred together for a few moments before one, who seemed the youngest and lowest in rank, stepped forward, and in fair English said haughtily—

“Gentlemen, I have come for your answer to the communication brought to you last night from the governor of his most sacred Majesty’s possessions here in America. What is it to be?”

“Let me say first, sir,” said the General, quietly, “that we do not recognise the authority here of the King of Spain. We are on ground belonging to his Majesty the King of England.”

“You are interlopers, sir, on the colonial possessions of his Majesty the King of Spain,” said the young officer, coldly. “When will you have evacuated this land?”

“What is to be our reply, gentlemen?” said the General, looking round. “Am I to send word back that you will give up tamely, and submit to this demand?”

“No, no, no,” rose in an angry roar throughout the room.

“You alone were silent, Captain Bruton,” said the General, sternly. “Have you nothing to say?”

“Yes,” said my father, who turned very white; and he took a step forward. “Sir,” he said to the Spanish officer, “is the governor of your settlement aware that we are no trespassers here, but that we came under the authority of his Majesty King George?”

“I believe all that has been discussed, sir,” said the officer, coldly. “Again I ask, how soon will you evacuate this place?”

“You are hasty, sir,” said my father; and a murmur arose in the room. “Gentlemen,” he continued, turning towards his brother officers and members of the expedition, “bear with me for a few moments.”

There was another murmur and then silence, with every eye fixed angrily upon my father’s face, as he turned once more to the Spanish officers.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “all of us who are here consider that we are acting within our rights in taking and holding this land, which you see we have turned from a wilderness into a smiling home. The question of right seems to be in dispute. Cannot it be peacefully settled, for the sake of all? I think we can convince your governor that we are only acting within our rights.”

The Spanish officer who was evidently the leader said a few words angrily to the interpreter, who nodded shortly.

“Your answer?” he said, haughtily.

“That we demand a peaceable solution of this difficulty, and that there be no bloodshed.”

“When will you go?” cried the young Spaniard aggressively, and amidst a low angry murmur I saw my father’s face flush, as he took another step forward, and raising his sword with his left hand he clapped his right down upon the hilt.

A silence fell upon all, and his words rang out loudly and clearly as he exclaimed with his eyes flashing and his brows knit—

“When our hands have no longer strength to draw our swords, sir—when the last man has been beaten down in our struggle for liberty and life—when we have again taught haughty, overbearing Spain that the English race is not one to draw back—when—I beg your pardon, General,” said my father, stopping short.

“Go on, sir,” said the General, sternly. “I would not wish for a better exponent of my views.”

“Then go, sir,” continued my father, “and tell the man who sent you that we are, all whom you see here, Englishmen who have made this our home—men who mean to keep what we have won in defiance of Spain and all her hosts.”

“Is this your answer?” said the Spanish officer, sternly, as soon as silence came after a tremendous cheer.

“Yes,” cried the General, “that is our answer, gentlemen, so go in peace.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Spaniard, after a few muttered words with his companions, “to return in war.”

His defiance was received in calm silence, and he and his companions were led out again by Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford, not a word being spoken till they had been seen to march down to the rough quay, embark, and row off to their ship.

It was not till Colonel Preston and Mr Crayford had returned, full of excitement, that the silence was broken by the General.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “what have you to say?”

“God save the King!” said my father, enthusiastically.

“Then you will all fight in defence of your hearths and homes?”

A tremendous cheer was the answer.

“Well, then,” said the General, “we must be prepared. I look upon it all as an empty, insolent piece of bombast; but whatever it is, we must not be taken unawares. Help shall be at once asked from England, and meantime we must do all we can to place ourselves in a state of defence.”

“Well, George,” said my father, as we walked back home, seeing the sails of the Spaniard set, and that she was gliding slowly down the river, “what have you to say to all this?”

“I should like to know whether the Spaniards will come back.”

“Ah, that remains to be proved, my boy. We shall see.”

“Not they,” said Morgan, when I told him, and he was listening eagerly to my account of what had taken place. “If we were Indians perhaps they would; but we’re Englishmen and Welshmen, look you. No, my lad, we’re more likely to see those Indians. Depend upon it, all that Spaniel said was a bit of bounce.”

Chapter Ten.Those were busy times at the settlement, where the crops and everything else were neglected so that all hands might work at the block-house, or fort, it was determined to build, so as to have a place to flee to in case of attack, and the fight going against us.Wood was plentiful enough, and thechip-chopof the axes was heard all day long, willing hands toiling hard, so that at the end of a week a strong wooden breastwork was contrived; and this, as the time went by, was gradually improved, sheds and huts being run up within for shelter from the dews and rain, and for store-places in case we were besieged.But the weeks went by, and the Spaniards made no sign, and as far as we could tell were not likely to. Still the General did not relax his efforts; outposts and guards did duty; a well was dug inside the fort, and stores were gathered in, but no enemies came, and their visit began to seem like a bit of history.My father and Morgan had walked over with me to the fort every morning, and there gentlemen toiled beside the ordinary labourers and the slaves; but no fresh alarm came, and at last we were back at the house regularly, and time was devoted to making up for the past neglect, Morgan bemoaning the state of the garden most piteously.I suppose I must have been about fifteen years old then, but cannot be sure. All I know is that the whole business stands out vividly in my mind, as if it had taken place yesterday. In fact I can sit down, close my eyes, and recall nearly the whole of my boyish life on the river, with the scenes coloured by memory till they seem to grow. At such times it seems to me that I can actually breathe in the sweet lemony odour of the great laurel-leaved flowers borne on what, there, were often great trees dotted with blossoms which looked like gigantic creamy-white tulips, one of which great magnolias flourished at the end of our house.On the day of which I am speaking, Morgan Johns, our serving-man and general hand, for there was nothing he was not ready to do, came and told my father that there was a schooner in the river, adding something which my father shook his head over and groaned. This, of course, made me open my ears and take an interest in the matter at once.“Well, sir, look you,” said Morgan, “I’ll do as much as I can, but you keep on fencing in more and more land, and planting more and more trees.”“Yes, I do, Morgan,” said my father, apologetically; “but see how different it is to cold, mountainous North Wales.”“North Wales is a very coot country, sir,” said Morgan, severely. “No man should look down on the place of his birth.”“Nobody does, Morgan. I often long to see Snowdon, and the great ridge of blue mountains growing less and less till they sink into the sea.”“Ah,” said Morgan, enthusiastically, and speaking more broadly, “it’s a fery coot country is Wales. Where are your mountains here?”“Ah, where are they, Morgan? The place is flat enough, but see how rich and fat the soil is.”“Yes, it’s fery good,” said Morgan, growing more English.“And see how things grow.”“Yes; that’s the worst of them, sir; they grow while you’re looking at them; and how can one man fight against the weeds, which grow so fast they lift your coat off the ground?”“In time, Morgan, in time,” said my father. “Yes, sir, in time. Ah, well, I’ll work till I die, and I can’t do any more.”“No, Morgan,” said my father, quietly, “you cannot do any more.”“The other gentlemen who came out don’t mind doing it, and their little estates are in better order than ours.”“No, Morgan,” said my father, decisively, “I will not have that. Nobody had such fruit as we did last year.”“Well, master,” said our old servant, with his hard, dry face brightening up into a smile, “I think we can beat them all round; but if you are going on enclosing fresh clearings from the forest, I must have more help.” My father shook his head and Morgan went on, “The other gentlemen are going aboard, one after another; why don’t you go too, sir?”“If I went, it would be to try to put a stop to it, Morgan, and cry shame on my neighbours for what they are doing.”“Ah, well, master, I’ve done,” said Morgan. “I’ll work till I drop, and I can do no more.”My father turned to the old-fashioned desk he had brought from home, and went on writing a letter, while, after giving him a look full of vexation, our man gave his straw hat a flop against his side, and went out.I was not long in following and overtaking him by the rough fence which enclosed our garden.“Morgan! Morgan!” I cried.“Well, Master George, boy, what is it?”“What did you want father to do?”“Go and ask him.”“No, I shan’t; I shall ask you. Did you want him to buy something to help in the garden?”Morgan looked at me quietly and nodded.“What was it?—a new spade?”“Nay, boy; but people to use spades and hoes—’specially the last.”“But you can’t buy people.”“Can’t you, boy?”“Only slaves. Oh, I say, Morgan! I know; you wanted father to buy some slaves.”“Ay, boy, that’s it. Every one else here’s doing it, so why shouldn’t we?”“I don’t know,” I said, thoughtfully. “I know this,” I cried; “that schooner that came into the river has got slaves on board.”“That’s right, Master George, boy. Cargo of blacks from the Guinea coast, and our neighbours are buying ’em so fast that there won’t be one left if we want any.”“We don’t want any,” I said, indignantly.“No, Master George, boy, so your father said; and I’m going to ask him to graft me.”“To graft you?”“Ay, my lad, with a row of extra arms all down each side, like that picture of the Injin idol in your book.”“What nonsense, Morgan!”“Oh, I don’t know, Master George. One pair of hands can’t do the work here. Wants a dozen pair, seems to me. Well, I’ve done my dooty. I told master there was a chance to get some slaves.”“And of course my father would not buy slaves,” I said, indignantly.“No, sir; and the house and plantations I’ve took such pride in will all go to ruin now.”“Morgan!”We both started and looked round to see my father standing in the rough porch of rugged oak-wood.The man went up to him.“You have made me uneasy about all this,” he said, thoughtfully. “I will go on board the schooner, and see who is there among my neighbours. I should like to interfere if I could.”“Better not, sir. May make bad blood after.”“Morgan!” cried my father, so sternly that the man drew himself up as if he were on parade, and his old officer were in uniform. “Do not forget yourself, sir. Go and unloose the boat. You can row me on board.”Morgan saluted and went away, while my father began to walk up and down the sandy path among his flowers. I waited a bit, and then went hesitatingly up to him. For a few minutes he did not notice me, and I saw that his lips were pressed close together, and his brow wrinkled.“Ah, George,” he said at last, and he laid his hand upon my shoulder.“Going out in the boat, father?”“Yes, my boy.”“Take me too.”He looked at me quickly, and shook his head.“But I should like to go, father.”“My boy,” he said, “I am going on board a ship lying in the river—a vessel used by cruel-hearted men for trafficking in their fellow-creatures.”“Yes, I know, father,” I said; “a slaver.”He frowned a little, but went on.“I am going to see if I can do any good among my friends and neighbours. It would be no proper sight for you.”I felt disappointed, but when my father spoke in that firm, quiet way, I knew that he meant every word he said, and I remained silent, but followed him as he took his hat and stick and walked slowly down to the little landing-place, where Morgan was already seated in the boat with the painter held in one hand, passed just round the trunk of the nearest tree, and ready to slip as soon as my father stepped on board.A slight motion of an oar sent the stern of the boat close in to the bank, my father stepped in, the painter was slipped, and the boat yielded to the quick current, and began to glide away.But just then my father raised his head, saw me standing there disconsolate, and said aloud—“Would you very much like to come, George?”“Oh, yes, father,” I shouted; and he made a sign. Morgan pulled his left-hand oar, and I forced my way through the dense undergrowth to reach the spot where the boat was being pulled in, fifty yards down stream.It was hard work, and I had not gone far through the dense leafage, and over the soft, spongy, river-soaked bank, before there was a rush and a scuffle, followed by a splash, and though I saw nothing, I knew that it was a small alligator, taking refuge in the water after a night’s wandering ashore.I had heard these sounds so often, and was so accustomed to the dread shown by the reptiles, that I did not hesitate to go on, and soon after reached the place where Morgan was holding on by the overhanging bushes, drawing the boat so close in that I easily stepped down on to one of the thwarts, giving my father a bright, eager look, but he did not see it; so taking one of the oars, I sat down behind our man, and rowed hard till our boat glided out of the mouth of the stream which ran through my father’s property, and reached the turbid waters of the great river.As we passed out of the mouth of our stream, and round the bushes on the point, there lay the schooner a couple of hundred yards away, anchored in the middle, with her long raking masts tapering in the sunshine, and the great spars glistening and bright as if freshly greased.She was low in the water, and as I looked over my shoulder, I caught sight of a boat just pushing off to go down stream, and noted that she was rowed by some of our neighbours, and had black men on board.I saw my father give a quick look in the direction of the boat, and frown, but he did not speak, and we rowed on.As we neared the schooner I more than once became conscious of a peculiar offensive odour, that I thought must be something coming up with the tide; but I was too much interested in the slaver to give more than a passing thought to such a matter, and my eagerness and excitement increased as we drew near. For I heard loud voices, and saw our nearest neighbour close to the side, talking to a hard-looking, deeply-bronzed man. Then one of the sailors threw us a rope; we made fast, my father stepped on board, and I followed.“Better take the other two I’ve got, colonel, and clear me out,” said the bronzed man.“No, I think not,” said Colonel Preston, who had exchanged a short nod with my father, and he turned to where a dejected-looking group of negroes, both men and women, were standing on the deck close to the open hold.“Better alter your mind; make your black hay while the sun shines. I may never come up your river again. I’ll throw in the other two dirt cheap.”I felt the colour come into my cheeks, and then felt how pitiful it was for the miserable, drooping, nearly nude creatures to be sold like that; but my attention was taken up directly by my father’s looks and the colonel’s words as he said, sternly—“No; six are all I want, and it seems to me that half of these will die before I have had them long ashore.”“No; they’ll soon pick up. We’ve had a rough crossing,” said the slaver captain, “and the quarters are a bit close. We ran short of water too, and a tidy lot died, and made the others bad. You give ’em time, and that lot ’ll turn out as cheap as anything you ever bought. You should have seen them when they first came aboard—lively and spry as could be. Have the other two. Hi! Below there!” he continued, as he went to the open hold, and boy-like I stepped forward, full of curiosity, to look down too.But I started back in horror, as a hot puff of the revolting odour I had previously noticed came up from below.“Ah, not very sweet, youngster,” said the slaver captain, with a laugh. “Going to brimstone it out well as soon as I’ve made a clearance. Got two more, haven’t you?”“Ay,” came up in a growl.“Man and woman, eh?”“Boy and a man,” came up.“Send ’em on deck.”There was a pause, during which I heard from below—“Now then! Up with you!” and the sound of blows, which made me draw a long breath, and I was going back once more to the hold when I felt my father’s hand upon my shoulder, and saw as I looked up that he was deadly pale.“Hoist ’em up there!” shouted the captain, and a rope rove through a block was lowered down.“How can you join in this cursed business, Preston?” said my father in a low tone to our neighbour.“I was going to ask you that,” said the colonel, coldly.“Me? Ask me?”“Yes, sir; you have come on board to buy slaves, I suppose, with the rest of us?”“I deny it,” said my father, flashing out, as he drew himself up. “I came on board, too late it seems, to try and prevail upon my brother emigrants—English gentlemen of birth and position—to discountenance this hateful traffic in the bodies of our fellow-creatures.”“We must have men to work if our colony is to succeed, Captain Bruton.”“Oh!” ejaculated my father, and then in a low voice, as his eyes rested on the group of poor black wretches huddled together, I heard him say, “It is monstrous!”At that moment a couple of sailors began to haul at the rope run through the block; it tightened, and with a cheery “Yo-ho!” they ran up what seemed to be the dead body of a big negro, whose head and arms hung down inert as he was hoisted on high; the spar to which the block was fastened swung round, the rope slackened, and the poor wretch plumped down on the deck, to lie motionless all of a heap.“Not in very good fettle,” said the slave captain, curtly; “but he’ll come round.”The rope was cast loose from the negro’s chest, lowered down again, and I gazed from the poor wretch lying half or quite dead on the deck, to my father, and back again, noting that he was very pale, biting his lower lip, and frowning in a way that I knew of old meant a storm.“Now then, up with him!” shouted the captain.“Ay, ay, but look out, or he’ll be overboard. He’s lively as an eel,” came from below.“Right!” said the captain; and he took up a small line and held it ready in both hands.The rope tightened; there was a cheery “Yo-ho!” and up came a black, impish-looking boy of about my own age, kicking, struggling, and tearing at the rope round his chest.But it was all in vain; he was swung round, held suspended with his feet just clear of the deck, and his wrists were caught in a loop of the line bound together, his ankles were served the same, and the lad was dropped on the deck to lie writhing like some wild animal, showing his teeth, and watching us all in turn with his rolling eyes.“Come,” said the slave captain, laughingly turning to Colonel Preston; “he’s lively enough to make up for the other. Better have ’em. I’ll throw them in for next to nothing.”“No,” said our neighbour, coldly. “That man is dying, and the boy would be of no use to me.”“The man is not dying,” said the slave captain roughly, “but he soon will be if you don’t have him. As for this shaver, he’s about as near being an imp as we can find. Keep away, my lad, or he may bite you.”This was to me, as I approached the boy, who showed his teeth at me like a vicious dog.“Going to have ’em, colonel?”“No; once more, no,” said the colonel, sternly. “I am only waiting for my boat.”“All right, sir, I don’t go begging. What do you say?” he continued, turning to my father. “Will you buy those two?”“I?” cried my father, angrily; “buy my fellow-creatures for slaves?”“Oh, no, of course not,” said the slave captain. And then to himself, but I heard him, “Too good a man, I suppose.—Sorry you won’t have ’em, colonel.—Heave ’em down.”The men on deck advanced to the insensible negro, and were in the act of stooping to pass the rope once more about his chest, when my father, who could bear the scene no longer, said quietly—“Do you not see that man is dying?”“Yes, sir. Altered your mind? You can have the two a bargain.”“Bah!” exclaimed my father, fiercely. “Man, have you no heart, no feeling?”“Not that I know of, sir. This trade would take it out of any one.”“But the poor creature’s lips are dried up. He wants water.”“He’ll have plenty to-night, sir,” said the slave captain, with a laugh. “Down with him, my lads.”“Ay, ay, sir,” said the men; the rope was passed round the negro, and the men seized the end to haul.“I can’t bear it,” I heard my father say in a whisper; and then aloud—“Stop!”“Eh? What for?”“I will buy the man,” said my father.“And the boy?”“N—”“Yes, yes,” I shouted, excitedly.My father turned upon me with an angry look, but he seemed to read mine, and his face changed.“Yes,” he said, quietly.“Right, and a good riddance,” said the captain, laughing, as he held out his hand for the money my father began to count out. “I don’t mind telling you now, sir; if you hadn’t bought him, he’d have been dead enough to-night; but you get him ashore and take care of him, and he’ll come round—he will indeed; I’m not tricking you. It’s wonderful what a deal these niggers will bear. There, I like to deal square,” he added, as he thrust the money in his pocket. “Smithers, shove a chain on that boy’s legs, and another on the man’s.”“Ay, ay, sir.”“No, no, for Heaven’s sake, no,” cried my father.“Oh, just as you like,” said the slave captain. “I was going to give you the shackles; only I warn you, if you don’t have them on, that man as soon as you revive him will make for the river and drown himself, and the boy will be off into the woods.”“Do what is best,” said my father, and the shackles were put on.“Shall we hoist them into the boat for you?”“If you please,” said my father, coldly.“Heave ahead, my lads,” cried the slave captain; “and below there, get those brimstone-pans going at once.”“Ay, ay,” came from below, and I saw a lighted lanthorn passed down as my father’s two slaves were hoisted over the side, and lowered into the boat, where Morgan stood ready with a grim smile upon his lip.“You’ll get yours home first, Bruton,” said Colonel Preston, coming to my father’s side; “my boat’s all behind. I say, neighbour, don’t preach at me any more. You’re as bad as any of us, and I’m glad you’ve come to your senses at last.”My father gave him a peculiar look, and then glanced at the group of slaves destined for the Preston property, where they stood huddled together quite apathetic and hopeless-looking.The next minute we were at the gangway, and as I passed down, I saw three rough-looking men coming up out of the hold, and a thin bluish vapour began to curl up before they smothered it down by rapidly covering the opening and drawing over it a well-tarred canvas.Very soon after I was in the boat, stooping to take an oar, and gazing at the stern, where the man lay as if dead, and the boy, whose bonds had been secured to the thwart, lay glaring at me viciously, and had taken hold of the edge of the boat in his white teeth; and directly after, as we rowed away from the floating horror upon whose deck we had so lately stood, there came the regular beat of oars, and I saw Colonel Preston’s boat, which had evidently been ashore with one load, coming back for the other poor wretches and their owner.“Why, hang me!” said a voice, evidently not intended for our ears, “if that puritanical Captain Bruton hasn’t been buying niggers too.”The calm water bears sound to a great distance.I saw my father wince a little, and he turned to me bending down, so that his lips were pretty close to my ear.“Yes,” he said, “Captain Bruton has been buying niggers too.”“No, no, father,” I said, looking up; “one of them is mine.”“And what are you going to do with him?” he said, slowly, as his eyes seemed to search mine.“Do with him, father?” I said, promptly. “Let him go.”

Those were busy times at the settlement, where the crops and everything else were neglected so that all hands might work at the block-house, or fort, it was determined to build, so as to have a place to flee to in case of attack, and the fight going against us.

Wood was plentiful enough, and thechip-chopof the axes was heard all day long, willing hands toiling hard, so that at the end of a week a strong wooden breastwork was contrived; and this, as the time went by, was gradually improved, sheds and huts being run up within for shelter from the dews and rain, and for store-places in case we were besieged.

But the weeks went by, and the Spaniards made no sign, and as far as we could tell were not likely to. Still the General did not relax his efforts; outposts and guards did duty; a well was dug inside the fort, and stores were gathered in, but no enemies came, and their visit began to seem like a bit of history.

My father and Morgan had walked over with me to the fort every morning, and there gentlemen toiled beside the ordinary labourers and the slaves; but no fresh alarm came, and at last we were back at the house regularly, and time was devoted to making up for the past neglect, Morgan bemoaning the state of the garden most piteously.

I suppose I must have been about fifteen years old then, but cannot be sure. All I know is that the whole business stands out vividly in my mind, as if it had taken place yesterday. In fact I can sit down, close my eyes, and recall nearly the whole of my boyish life on the river, with the scenes coloured by memory till they seem to grow. At such times it seems to me that I can actually breathe in the sweet lemony odour of the great laurel-leaved flowers borne on what, there, were often great trees dotted with blossoms which looked like gigantic creamy-white tulips, one of which great magnolias flourished at the end of our house.

On the day of which I am speaking, Morgan Johns, our serving-man and general hand, for there was nothing he was not ready to do, came and told my father that there was a schooner in the river, adding something which my father shook his head over and groaned. This, of course, made me open my ears and take an interest in the matter at once.

“Well, sir, look you,” said Morgan, “I’ll do as much as I can, but you keep on fencing in more and more land, and planting more and more trees.”

“Yes, I do, Morgan,” said my father, apologetically; “but see how different it is to cold, mountainous North Wales.”

“North Wales is a very coot country, sir,” said Morgan, severely. “No man should look down on the place of his birth.”

“Nobody does, Morgan. I often long to see Snowdon, and the great ridge of blue mountains growing less and less till they sink into the sea.”

“Ah,” said Morgan, enthusiastically, and speaking more broadly, “it’s a fery coot country is Wales. Where are your mountains here?”

“Ah, where are they, Morgan? The place is flat enough, but see how rich and fat the soil is.”

“Yes, it’s fery good,” said Morgan, growing more English.

“And see how things grow.”

“Yes; that’s the worst of them, sir; they grow while you’re looking at them; and how can one man fight against the weeds, which grow so fast they lift your coat off the ground?”

“In time, Morgan, in time,” said my father. “Yes, sir, in time. Ah, well, I’ll work till I die, and I can’t do any more.”

“No, Morgan,” said my father, quietly, “you cannot do any more.”

“The other gentlemen who came out don’t mind doing it, and their little estates are in better order than ours.”

“No, Morgan,” said my father, decisively, “I will not have that. Nobody had such fruit as we did last year.”

“Well, master,” said our old servant, with his hard, dry face brightening up into a smile, “I think we can beat them all round; but if you are going on enclosing fresh clearings from the forest, I must have more help.” My father shook his head and Morgan went on, “The other gentlemen are going aboard, one after another; why don’t you go too, sir?”

“If I went, it would be to try to put a stop to it, Morgan, and cry shame on my neighbours for what they are doing.”

“Ah, well, master, I’ve done,” said Morgan. “I’ll work till I drop, and I can do no more.”

My father turned to the old-fashioned desk he had brought from home, and went on writing a letter, while, after giving him a look full of vexation, our man gave his straw hat a flop against his side, and went out.

I was not long in following and overtaking him by the rough fence which enclosed our garden.

“Morgan! Morgan!” I cried.

“Well, Master George, boy, what is it?”

“What did you want father to do?”

“Go and ask him.”

“No, I shan’t; I shall ask you. Did you want him to buy something to help in the garden?”

Morgan looked at me quietly and nodded.

“What was it?—a new spade?”

“Nay, boy; but people to use spades and hoes—’specially the last.”

“But you can’t buy people.”

“Can’t you, boy?”

“Only slaves. Oh, I say, Morgan! I know; you wanted father to buy some slaves.”

“Ay, boy, that’s it. Every one else here’s doing it, so why shouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know,” I said, thoughtfully. “I know this,” I cried; “that schooner that came into the river has got slaves on board.”

“That’s right, Master George, boy. Cargo of blacks from the Guinea coast, and our neighbours are buying ’em so fast that there won’t be one left if we want any.”

“We don’t want any,” I said, indignantly.

“No, Master George, boy, so your father said; and I’m going to ask him to graft me.”

“To graft you?”

“Ay, my lad, with a row of extra arms all down each side, like that picture of the Injin idol in your book.”

“What nonsense, Morgan!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Master George. One pair of hands can’t do the work here. Wants a dozen pair, seems to me. Well, I’ve done my dooty. I told master there was a chance to get some slaves.”

“And of course my father would not buy slaves,” I said, indignantly.

“No, sir; and the house and plantations I’ve took such pride in will all go to ruin now.”

“Morgan!”

We both started and looked round to see my father standing in the rough porch of rugged oak-wood.

The man went up to him.

“You have made me uneasy about all this,” he said, thoughtfully. “I will go on board the schooner, and see who is there among my neighbours. I should like to interfere if I could.”

“Better not, sir. May make bad blood after.”

“Morgan!” cried my father, so sternly that the man drew himself up as if he were on parade, and his old officer were in uniform. “Do not forget yourself, sir. Go and unloose the boat. You can row me on board.”

Morgan saluted and went away, while my father began to walk up and down the sandy path among his flowers. I waited a bit, and then went hesitatingly up to him. For a few minutes he did not notice me, and I saw that his lips were pressed close together, and his brow wrinkled.

“Ah, George,” he said at last, and he laid his hand upon my shoulder.

“Going out in the boat, father?”

“Yes, my boy.”

“Take me too.”

He looked at me quickly, and shook his head.

“But I should like to go, father.”

“My boy,” he said, “I am going on board a ship lying in the river—a vessel used by cruel-hearted men for trafficking in their fellow-creatures.”

“Yes, I know, father,” I said; “a slaver.”

He frowned a little, but went on.

“I am going to see if I can do any good among my friends and neighbours. It would be no proper sight for you.”

I felt disappointed, but when my father spoke in that firm, quiet way, I knew that he meant every word he said, and I remained silent, but followed him as he took his hat and stick and walked slowly down to the little landing-place, where Morgan was already seated in the boat with the painter held in one hand, passed just round the trunk of the nearest tree, and ready to slip as soon as my father stepped on board.

A slight motion of an oar sent the stern of the boat close in to the bank, my father stepped in, the painter was slipped, and the boat yielded to the quick current, and began to glide away.

But just then my father raised his head, saw me standing there disconsolate, and said aloud—

“Would you very much like to come, George?”

“Oh, yes, father,” I shouted; and he made a sign. Morgan pulled his left-hand oar, and I forced my way through the dense undergrowth to reach the spot where the boat was being pulled in, fifty yards down stream.

It was hard work, and I had not gone far through the dense leafage, and over the soft, spongy, river-soaked bank, before there was a rush and a scuffle, followed by a splash, and though I saw nothing, I knew that it was a small alligator, taking refuge in the water after a night’s wandering ashore.

I had heard these sounds so often, and was so accustomed to the dread shown by the reptiles, that I did not hesitate to go on, and soon after reached the place where Morgan was holding on by the overhanging bushes, drawing the boat so close in that I easily stepped down on to one of the thwarts, giving my father a bright, eager look, but he did not see it; so taking one of the oars, I sat down behind our man, and rowed hard till our boat glided out of the mouth of the stream which ran through my father’s property, and reached the turbid waters of the great river.

As we passed out of the mouth of our stream, and round the bushes on the point, there lay the schooner a couple of hundred yards away, anchored in the middle, with her long raking masts tapering in the sunshine, and the great spars glistening and bright as if freshly greased.

She was low in the water, and as I looked over my shoulder, I caught sight of a boat just pushing off to go down stream, and noted that she was rowed by some of our neighbours, and had black men on board.

I saw my father give a quick look in the direction of the boat, and frown, but he did not speak, and we rowed on.

As we neared the schooner I more than once became conscious of a peculiar offensive odour, that I thought must be something coming up with the tide; but I was too much interested in the slaver to give more than a passing thought to such a matter, and my eagerness and excitement increased as we drew near. For I heard loud voices, and saw our nearest neighbour close to the side, talking to a hard-looking, deeply-bronzed man. Then one of the sailors threw us a rope; we made fast, my father stepped on board, and I followed.

“Better take the other two I’ve got, colonel, and clear me out,” said the bronzed man.

“No, I think not,” said Colonel Preston, who had exchanged a short nod with my father, and he turned to where a dejected-looking group of negroes, both men and women, were standing on the deck close to the open hold.

“Better alter your mind; make your black hay while the sun shines. I may never come up your river again. I’ll throw in the other two dirt cheap.”

I felt the colour come into my cheeks, and then felt how pitiful it was for the miserable, drooping, nearly nude creatures to be sold like that; but my attention was taken up directly by my father’s looks and the colonel’s words as he said, sternly—

“No; six are all I want, and it seems to me that half of these will die before I have had them long ashore.”

“No; they’ll soon pick up. We’ve had a rough crossing,” said the slaver captain, “and the quarters are a bit close. We ran short of water too, and a tidy lot died, and made the others bad. You give ’em time, and that lot ’ll turn out as cheap as anything you ever bought. You should have seen them when they first came aboard—lively and spry as could be. Have the other two. Hi! Below there!” he continued, as he went to the open hold, and boy-like I stepped forward, full of curiosity, to look down too.

But I started back in horror, as a hot puff of the revolting odour I had previously noticed came up from below.

“Ah, not very sweet, youngster,” said the slaver captain, with a laugh. “Going to brimstone it out well as soon as I’ve made a clearance. Got two more, haven’t you?”

“Ay,” came up in a growl.

“Man and woman, eh?”

“Boy and a man,” came up.

“Send ’em on deck.”

There was a pause, during which I heard from below—“Now then! Up with you!” and the sound of blows, which made me draw a long breath, and I was going back once more to the hold when I felt my father’s hand upon my shoulder, and saw as I looked up that he was deadly pale.

“Hoist ’em up there!” shouted the captain, and a rope rove through a block was lowered down.

“How can you join in this cursed business, Preston?” said my father in a low tone to our neighbour.

“I was going to ask you that,” said the colonel, coldly.

“Me? Ask me?”

“Yes, sir; you have come on board to buy slaves, I suppose, with the rest of us?”

“I deny it,” said my father, flashing out, as he drew himself up. “I came on board, too late it seems, to try and prevail upon my brother emigrants—English gentlemen of birth and position—to discountenance this hateful traffic in the bodies of our fellow-creatures.”

“We must have men to work if our colony is to succeed, Captain Bruton.”

“Oh!” ejaculated my father, and then in a low voice, as his eyes rested on the group of poor black wretches huddled together, I heard him say, “It is monstrous!”

At that moment a couple of sailors began to haul at the rope run through the block; it tightened, and with a cheery “Yo-ho!” they ran up what seemed to be the dead body of a big negro, whose head and arms hung down inert as he was hoisted on high; the spar to which the block was fastened swung round, the rope slackened, and the poor wretch plumped down on the deck, to lie motionless all of a heap.

“Not in very good fettle,” said the slave captain, curtly; “but he’ll come round.”

The rope was cast loose from the negro’s chest, lowered down again, and I gazed from the poor wretch lying half or quite dead on the deck, to my father, and back again, noting that he was very pale, biting his lower lip, and frowning in a way that I knew of old meant a storm.

“Now then, up with him!” shouted the captain.

“Ay, ay, but look out, or he’ll be overboard. He’s lively as an eel,” came from below.

“Right!” said the captain; and he took up a small line and held it ready in both hands.

The rope tightened; there was a cheery “Yo-ho!” and up came a black, impish-looking boy of about my own age, kicking, struggling, and tearing at the rope round his chest.

But it was all in vain; he was swung round, held suspended with his feet just clear of the deck, and his wrists were caught in a loop of the line bound together, his ankles were served the same, and the lad was dropped on the deck to lie writhing like some wild animal, showing his teeth, and watching us all in turn with his rolling eyes.

“Come,” said the slave captain, laughingly turning to Colonel Preston; “he’s lively enough to make up for the other. Better have ’em. I’ll throw them in for next to nothing.”

“No,” said our neighbour, coldly. “That man is dying, and the boy would be of no use to me.”

“The man is not dying,” said the slave captain roughly, “but he soon will be if you don’t have him. As for this shaver, he’s about as near being an imp as we can find. Keep away, my lad, or he may bite you.”

This was to me, as I approached the boy, who showed his teeth at me like a vicious dog.

“Going to have ’em, colonel?”

“No; once more, no,” said the colonel, sternly. “I am only waiting for my boat.”

“All right, sir, I don’t go begging. What do you say?” he continued, turning to my father. “Will you buy those two?”

“I?” cried my father, angrily; “buy my fellow-creatures for slaves?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” said the slave captain. And then to himself, but I heard him, “Too good a man, I suppose.—Sorry you won’t have ’em, colonel.—Heave ’em down.”

The men on deck advanced to the insensible negro, and were in the act of stooping to pass the rope once more about his chest, when my father, who could bear the scene no longer, said quietly—

“Do you not see that man is dying?”

“Yes, sir. Altered your mind? You can have the two a bargain.”

“Bah!” exclaimed my father, fiercely. “Man, have you no heart, no feeling?”

“Not that I know of, sir. This trade would take it out of any one.”

“But the poor creature’s lips are dried up. He wants water.”

“He’ll have plenty to-night, sir,” said the slave captain, with a laugh. “Down with him, my lads.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” said the men; the rope was passed round the negro, and the men seized the end to haul.

“I can’t bear it,” I heard my father say in a whisper; and then aloud—“Stop!”

“Eh? What for?”

“I will buy the man,” said my father.

“And the boy?”

“N—”

“Yes, yes,” I shouted, excitedly.

My father turned upon me with an angry look, but he seemed to read mine, and his face changed.

“Yes,” he said, quietly.

“Right, and a good riddance,” said the captain, laughing, as he held out his hand for the money my father began to count out. “I don’t mind telling you now, sir; if you hadn’t bought him, he’d have been dead enough to-night; but you get him ashore and take care of him, and he’ll come round—he will indeed; I’m not tricking you. It’s wonderful what a deal these niggers will bear. There, I like to deal square,” he added, as he thrust the money in his pocket. “Smithers, shove a chain on that boy’s legs, and another on the man’s.”

“Ay, ay, sir.”

“No, no, for Heaven’s sake, no,” cried my father.

“Oh, just as you like,” said the slave captain. “I was going to give you the shackles; only I warn you, if you don’t have them on, that man as soon as you revive him will make for the river and drown himself, and the boy will be off into the woods.”

“Do what is best,” said my father, and the shackles were put on.

“Shall we hoist them into the boat for you?”

“If you please,” said my father, coldly.

“Heave ahead, my lads,” cried the slave captain; “and below there, get those brimstone-pans going at once.”

“Ay, ay,” came from below, and I saw a lighted lanthorn passed down as my father’s two slaves were hoisted over the side, and lowered into the boat, where Morgan stood ready with a grim smile upon his lip.

“You’ll get yours home first, Bruton,” said Colonel Preston, coming to my father’s side; “my boat’s all behind. I say, neighbour, don’t preach at me any more. You’re as bad as any of us, and I’m glad you’ve come to your senses at last.”

My father gave him a peculiar look, and then glanced at the group of slaves destined for the Preston property, where they stood huddled together quite apathetic and hopeless-looking.

The next minute we were at the gangway, and as I passed down, I saw three rough-looking men coming up out of the hold, and a thin bluish vapour began to curl up before they smothered it down by rapidly covering the opening and drawing over it a well-tarred canvas.

Very soon after I was in the boat, stooping to take an oar, and gazing at the stern, where the man lay as if dead, and the boy, whose bonds had been secured to the thwart, lay glaring at me viciously, and had taken hold of the edge of the boat in his white teeth; and directly after, as we rowed away from the floating horror upon whose deck we had so lately stood, there came the regular beat of oars, and I saw Colonel Preston’s boat, which had evidently been ashore with one load, coming back for the other poor wretches and their owner.

“Why, hang me!” said a voice, evidently not intended for our ears, “if that puritanical Captain Bruton hasn’t been buying niggers too.”

The calm water bears sound to a great distance.

I saw my father wince a little, and he turned to me bending down, so that his lips were pretty close to my ear.

“Yes,” he said, “Captain Bruton has been buying niggers too.”

“No, no, father,” I said, looking up; “one of them is mine.”

“And what are you going to do with him?” he said, slowly, as his eyes seemed to search mine.

“Do with him, father?” I said, promptly. “Let him go.”

Chapter Eleven.Our first task on getting out of the main river and up our stream to the landing-place where the boat was made fast, was to get the boy ashore, and it proved to be no light task; coaxing and threats were received in the same spirit—for of course he could not comprehend a word. All he seemed to realise was that he was in the hands of his enemies; and that if he could get a chance, he ought to bite those hands.“You’ll have to be careful, Morgan,” I said, as our man stooped down to unfasten the rope which held the boy to the thwart.“Careful? What for, Master George? Think I should break him?”“No; he bites.”“Oh, he won’t bite me,” said Morgan, confidently. “Like to catch him at it.”He had his wish, for the boy swung himself round and set his teeth hard in Morgan’s leg.“Oh! Well, he is hungry, and no mistake,” said Morgan, freeing himself by giving the boy’s head a sharp thrust.“Has he bitten you?” said my father.“Well, he have, and he haven’t, sir. Breeches was a bit too tough for him, but he has nipped me finely. Wonderful power in his jaw. No, no, Master George, don’t you touch him; he’ll have to go in the copper first. Ah, would you! Why, he’s like a fish, only he arn’t hooked.”For the boy had made a dash for liberty, and it was only after a severe struggle that he was held down, and this time I was the sufferer; for, as I helped to keep him from springing overboard, he swung his head round and fixed his teeth in my left arm in a pinch that seemed to be scooping out a circular piece of flesh.“Well, he is a warmint, and no mistake. Let go, will you, sir?”“Don’t strike the boy,” said my father. “Let me get hold of his jaw.”The boy saw the hand coming and wrenched himself away, seeming to take a piece of my arm with him, and leaving me throbbing with agonising pain, and feeling as if I must yell out and sob and cry.“Well done, George!” said my father, pressing my shoulder in a firm grip. “That’s brave; always try and bear pain like a man.”“But it hurts horribly,” I said, with my eyes full of tears.“I know it does, my lad, but noise will not ease the pang.—Now, Morgan, you had better fetch another rope and bind him well.”“S’pose I had, sir. I’d take hold of him and carry him ashore, but he’d have his teeth into me directly. S’pose people don’t go mad after being bit by boys? On’y feel mad, eh, Master George?”I nodded, for I could not trust myself to speak, and I stood looking on as the boy was held back in the bottom of the boat, with my father’s foot upon his breast.“Shall I fetch a rope, sir? Can you hold him?”“Yes, I think so. We can manage him between us.”Morgan leaped ashore, and he was about to go up to the house, when a rush and scramble brought him back, for the boy was struggling like an eel; and how he managed I do not know, but he wriggled from beneath my father’s foot, passed under the thwart, and, as I tried to stop him, threw me backwards, and was over the side with a splash and beneath the stream.As I uttered a cry of horror I saw the boy’s woolly head appear for a moment above the surface, and then go down, weighted as he was by the shackles on his ankles; and, as I gazed, I nearly went after him, the boat gave such a lunge, but I saved myself, and found that it was caused by Morgan leaping back rope in hand, after unfastening the moorings, and it was well he did so, sending the boat well off into the stream, floating after our purchase.“See him?” cried my father, eagerly, as he threw off hat and coat ready to dive in.“Not yet, sir,” said Morgan, standing ready with the boat-hook.“I would not have him drowned for five hundred pounds,” cried my father. “No, no, George, my boy, you must not go after him; his struggles would drown you both.”“Don’t see him, sir. Big alligator hasn’t got him, has it?”“Don’t talk like that, man,” cried my father, with a shudder; “but you ought to be able to see him in this clear water.”“I see him!” I cried, excitedly; “give me the boat-hook.”It was passed to me, and after a couple of misses, I felt the hook take hold, drew up gently, and as I hauled in, we found that the boy was coming up feet first, the iron having passed between the ring of the shackle and the boy’s ankle.“Steady, my lad, steady!” cried Morgan, as I drew the boy nearer, and the next minute he was seized and drawn into the boat, feeble and helpless now, half dead, and making no further attempt to escape as the boat was paddled back toward the landing-place.“That’s quieted him a bit anyhow, sir,” said Morgan. “Won’t take his clothes long to dry, Master George, will it?”“Poor fellow! He has been so ill-used,” said my father, “that he thinks we mean to do him harm.”“Oh, we’ll soon teach him better, sir,” replied Morgan, as I laid my hand on the boy’s side to feel if his heart was beating. “Oh, he arn’t drowned, sir, and the wash ’ll do him no end of good. Here we are!”He leaped out, made the boat fast, and then, coming back, was about to carry the boy ashore; but my father had forestalled him, and stepped out with the boy in his arms, laying him gently down on the grass, and then looking wonderingly at Morgan, who had followed, and knelt down to pass a rope through the shackle and make it fast to a ring-bolt used for mooring the boat, and driven into one of the tree-trunks close to the water.“Not necessary,” said my father.“Begging your pardon, sir, he’ll come to and be off while we’re busy perhaps. Now about the man; I’m rather ’fraid about him.”“We must get him ashore,” said my father; and after securing the boat parallel with the log which formed the bottom of the landing-place, they managed to get the poor creature, who was quite an inert mass, out upon the bank, and then, after placing one of the bottom-boards of the boat under his back, I joined in, and we dragged him right up to where the boy lay insensible.“I’m afraid we are too late,” said my father, as he felt the black’s pulse.“Yes, sir, you’ve threw good money away here,” said Morgan; “he’ll never do a stroke of work for us, but thank you kindly for meaning help all the same, and I must try what I can do with the boy.”“Is he dead, father?” I whispered, in an awe-stricken tone.“No, but dying, I am afraid. He has been starved and suffocated in that vile schooner. Good heavens! How can men be such fiends?”“Ay, that can’t do no harm,” said Morgan, as I filled the boat’s baler with water, and knelt down by the negro’s side to begin trickling a few drops from time to time between his cracked lips, and sprinkling his face.“I will fetch a few drops of spirit,” said my father. “Keep on giving him a little water.”He went away toward the house while I continued my task, and Morgan kept up a running commentary upon the man’s appearance.“Pity, too,” he said. “Master oughtn’t to have let them cheat him though, like this. Fine working chap. See what a broad, deep chest he’s got, Master George. Don’t think much of his legs, but he’s got wonderful arms. My! What a sight of hoeing I could have got him to do, but it’s a case of hoe dear me! With him, I’m afraid.”“You don’t think he’ll die, Morgan, do you?” I said, piteously.“Ay, but I do, my dear lad. They’ve ’bout killed him. We want help, but I’m ’fraid all that slave-dealing’s ’bout as bad as bad can be. Give him a few more drops o’ water; those others trickled down.”I gave the man a few more drops, pouring them from my fingers almost at minute intervals, but he made no sign. Then, all at once, I felt half startled, for a pair of eyes were watching me, and I saw that the boy had recovered sufficiently to be noticing everything that was going on.As our eyes met, he looked at me like a fierce dog who was watching for an opportunity to make a successful snap; but as he saw me trickle a few more drops of water between the man’s lips, his face suddenly grew eager, and he looked at me, found my eyes fixed upon him, and slowly opened his mouth widely.“Want some water?” I said; and I was going to him when he jerked himself fiercely away, and showed his beautiful white teeth at me.“Wo ho!” cried Morgan. “Mind, lad, or he’ll have his teeth in you.”“He’s thirsty,” I said; and I held the tin baler half full of water to him.He looked at me, then at the water, and I could see his lips move and his teeth part, showing his dry tongue quivering like that of a dog. Then he fixed his eyes upon me again fiercely.“Let me give it him,” said Morgan, as the boy’s mouth opened widely again, and there was a pitiful, imploring look in his eyes.Now I could not understand all that when I was so young, but I’ve often thought about it since, and seemed to read it all, and how nature was making him beg for water for his parched tongue, while his education forced upon him the desire to fight me as a cruel enemy.“There,” I said, going a little nearer, pushing the baler close to his hands, and drawing back.He looked at me, then at the water, and back at me, fixing me with his eyes, as one hand stole slowly from his side towards the baler, drawing it nearer and nearer stealthily, as if in dread of my snatching it away; and then it was at his lips, and he gulped down the contents.“There, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, stretching out my hand for the baler, and getting it, meaning to go and fill it once more; and as I returned I saw that he was watching me so wildly that I walked up, with him shrinking away as far as he could go, and offered the tin to him again.He took it in the same shrinking way, evidently expecting a blow, and drank heavily once more.“Well, he couldn’t ha’ swallowed much, Master George, else he wouldn’t be so thirsty,” said Morgan. “Now give this here one a dose, though it seems to me labour in vain; only it may make him go off a bit easy.”He filled the baler, and I knelt down again to sprinkle the poor fellow’s temples, and trickle a few drops once more between his lips, the boy watching me the while, and then giving me the first notice of my father’s return by shuffling away in another direction.“Poor wretch!” I heard my father mutter, as he gave me a piece of bread-cake, and pointed to the boy, before taking the cork from a bottle, and slowly dropping a spoonful or two of spirit between the man’s teeth.After this he waited, and I saw that the boy was watching him wildly. Then he poured in a little more, without apparently the slightest effect, and after looking on for a few minutes, I advanced toward the boy, holding out the cake. But I stopped short, with my hand extended, looking at him, and then, as he took no notice of the cake, but stared wildly at me, I broke off a few crumbs, and began to eat before him, treating him as I would have treated some savage creature I wished to tame, and breaking off a piece and throwing it within his reach.Then I went on eating again, and after a time I saw his hand steal slowly to the bread, his eyes fixed on mine, and he snatched the piece and conveyed it to his mouth with a motion that was wonderful from its rapidity.This I repeated two or three times before feeling that I ought now to have won his confidence a little, when I went close to him, put down the cake, and went back to kneel by my father, whose hand was upon the man’s throat.“Is he getting better?” I said.There was a shake of the head, and I looked then with a feeling of awe at the black face before me, with the eyes so close that there was just a gleam of the white eyeballs visible; but as I gazed, I fancied I saw a jerking motion in the throat, and I whispered to my father to look.“A good sign, or a bad one, my boy,” he whispered. “You had better go now, back to the house.”“Yes, father,” I said, unwillingly; “but don’t you think you can cure him like you did me when I was so ill?”“I would to heaven I could, boy!” he said, so earnestly that I was startled, and the more so that at the same moment the man slowly opened his eyes, and stared at us vacantly.“It is a hopeful sign,” said my father, and he took the baler, poured out all but a few drops of water, added some spirit, and placed it to the man’s lips, with the result that he managed to drink a little, and then lay perfectly still, gazing at my father with a strange look which I know now was one full of vindictive hate, for the poor wretch must have read all this attention to mean an attempt to keep him alive for more ill-treatment, or until he was sold.“Take a little more,” said my father, offering the vessel again, and the man drank and once more lay still, glaring at us all in turn.“Why, you’ll save him after all, sir,” said Morgan, eagerly. “Hurrah!”But no one paid heed to his remark, for at that moment there was a sort of bound, and we saw that the boy had contrived to force himself so near that he could lay his hand on the man’s cheek, uttering as he did so a few words incomprehensible to us, but their effect on the man was magical: his features softened, and two great tears stole slowly from his eyes as we watched the pair, the boy glaring at us defiantly, as if to protect his companion, and I heard my father say softly—“Thank God!”

Our first task on getting out of the main river and up our stream to the landing-place where the boat was made fast, was to get the boy ashore, and it proved to be no light task; coaxing and threats were received in the same spirit—for of course he could not comprehend a word. All he seemed to realise was that he was in the hands of his enemies; and that if he could get a chance, he ought to bite those hands.

“You’ll have to be careful, Morgan,” I said, as our man stooped down to unfasten the rope which held the boy to the thwart.

“Careful? What for, Master George? Think I should break him?”

“No; he bites.”

“Oh, he won’t bite me,” said Morgan, confidently. “Like to catch him at it.”

He had his wish, for the boy swung himself round and set his teeth hard in Morgan’s leg.

“Oh! Well, he is hungry, and no mistake,” said Morgan, freeing himself by giving the boy’s head a sharp thrust.

“Has he bitten you?” said my father.

“Well, he have, and he haven’t, sir. Breeches was a bit too tough for him, but he has nipped me finely. Wonderful power in his jaw. No, no, Master George, don’t you touch him; he’ll have to go in the copper first. Ah, would you! Why, he’s like a fish, only he arn’t hooked.”

For the boy had made a dash for liberty, and it was only after a severe struggle that he was held down, and this time I was the sufferer; for, as I helped to keep him from springing overboard, he swung his head round and fixed his teeth in my left arm in a pinch that seemed to be scooping out a circular piece of flesh.

“Well, he is a warmint, and no mistake. Let go, will you, sir?”

“Don’t strike the boy,” said my father. “Let me get hold of his jaw.”

The boy saw the hand coming and wrenched himself away, seeming to take a piece of my arm with him, and leaving me throbbing with agonising pain, and feeling as if I must yell out and sob and cry.

“Well done, George!” said my father, pressing my shoulder in a firm grip. “That’s brave; always try and bear pain like a man.”

“But it hurts horribly,” I said, with my eyes full of tears.

“I know it does, my lad, but noise will not ease the pang.—Now, Morgan, you had better fetch another rope and bind him well.”

“S’pose I had, sir. I’d take hold of him and carry him ashore, but he’d have his teeth into me directly. S’pose people don’t go mad after being bit by boys? On’y feel mad, eh, Master George?”

I nodded, for I could not trust myself to speak, and I stood looking on as the boy was held back in the bottom of the boat, with my father’s foot upon his breast.

“Shall I fetch a rope, sir? Can you hold him?”

“Yes, I think so. We can manage him between us.”

Morgan leaped ashore, and he was about to go up to the house, when a rush and scramble brought him back, for the boy was struggling like an eel; and how he managed I do not know, but he wriggled from beneath my father’s foot, passed under the thwart, and, as I tried to stop him, threw me backwards, and was over the side with a splash and beneath the stream.

As I uttered a cry of horror I saw the boy’s woolly head appear for a moment above the surface, and then go down, weighted as he was by the shackles on his ankles; and, as I gazed, I nearly went after him, the boat gave such a lunge, but I saved myself, and found that it was caused by Morgan leaping back rope in hand, after unfastening the moorings, and it was well he did so, sending the boat well off into the stream, floating after our purchase.

“See him?” cried my father, eagerly, as he threw off hat and coat ready to dive in.

“Not yet, sir,” said Morgan, standing ready with the boat-hook.

“I would not have him drowned for five hundred pounds,” cried my father. “No, no, George, my boy, you must not go after him; his struggles would drown you both.”

“Don’t see him, sir. Big alligator hasn’t got him, has it?”

“Don’t talk like that, man,” cried my father, with a shudder; “but you ought to be able to see him in this clear water.”

“I see him!” I cried, excitedly; “give me the boat-hook.”

It was passed to me, and after a couple of misses, I felt the hook take hold, drew up gently, and as I hauled in, we found that the boy was coming up feet first, the iron having passed between the ring of the shackle and the boy’s ankle.

“Steady, my lad, steady!” cried Morgan, as I drew the boy nearer, and the next minute he was seized and drawn into the boat, feeble and helpless now, half dead, and making no further attempt to escape as the boat was paddled back toward the landing-place.

“That’s quieted him a bit anyhow, sir,” said Morgan. “Won’t take his clothes long to dry, Master George, will it?”

“Poor fellow! He has been so ill-used,” said my father, “that he thinks we mean to do him harm.”

“Oh, we’ll soon teach him better, sir,” replied Morgan, as I laid my hand on the boy’s side to feel if his heart was beating. “Oh, he arn’t drowned, sir, and the wash ’ll do him no end of good. Here we are!”

He leaped out, made the boat fast, and then, coming back, was about to carry the boy ashore; but my father had forestalled him, and stepped out with the boy in his arms, laying him gently down on the grass, and then looking wonderingly at Morgan, who had followed, and knelt down to pass a rope through the shackle and make it fast to a ring-bolt used for mooring the boat, and driven into one of the tree-trunks close to the water.

“Not necessary,” said my father.

“Begging your pardon, sir, he’ll come to and be off while we’re busy perhaps. Now about the man; I’m rather ’fraid about him.”

“We must get him ashore,” said my father; and after securing the boat parallel with the log which formed the bottom of the landing-place, they managed to get the poor creature, who was quite an inert mass, out upon the bank, and then, after placing one of the bottom-boards of the boat under his back, I joined in, and we dragged him right up to where the boy lay insensible.

“I’m afraid we are too late,” said my father, as he felt the black’s pulse.

“Yes, sir, you’ve threw good money away here,” said Morgan; “he’ll never do a stroke of work for us, but thank you kindly for meaning help all the same, and I must try what I can do with the boy.”

“Is he dead, father?” I whispered, in an awe-stricken tone.

“No, but dying, I am afraid. He has been starved and suffocated in that vile schooner. Good heavens! How can men be such fiends?”

“Ay, that can’t do no harm,” said Morgan, as I filled the boat’s baler with water, and knelt down by the negro’s side to begin trickling a few drops from time to time between his cracked lips, and sprinkling his face.

“I will fetch a few drops of spirit,” said my father. “Keep on giving him a little water.”

He went away toward the house while I continued my task, and Morgan kept up a running commentary upon the man’s appearance.

“Pity, too,” he said. “Master oughtn’t to have let them cheat him though, like this. Fine working chap. See what a broad, deep chest he’s got, Master George. Don’t think much of his legs, but he’s got wonderful arms. My! What a sight of hoeing I could have got him to do, but it’s a case of hoe dear me! With him, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t think he’ll die, Morgan, do you?” I said, piteously.

“Ay, but I do, my dear lad. They’ve ’bout killed him. We want help, but I’m ’fraid all that slave-dealing’s ’bout as bad as bad can be. Give him a few more drops o’ water; those others trickled down.”

I gave the man a few more drops, pouring them from my fingers almost at minute intervals, but he made no sign. Then, all at once, I felt half startled, for a pair of eyes were watching me, and I saw that the boy had recovered sufficiently to be noticing everything that was going on.

As our eyes met, he looked at me like a fierce dog who was watching for an opportunity to make a successful snap; but as he saw me trickle a few more drops of water between the man’s lips, his face suddenly grew eager, and he looked at me, found my eyes fixed upon him, and slowly opened his mouth widely.

“Want some water?” I said; and I was going to him when he jerked himself fiercely away, and showed his beautiful white teeth at me.

“Wo ho!” cried Morgan. “Mind, lad, or he’ll have his teeth in you.”

“He’s thirsty,” I said; and I held the tin baler half full of water to him.

He looked at me, then at the water, and I could see his lips move and his teeth part, showing his dry tongue quivering like that of a dog. Then he fixed his eyes upon me again fiercely.

“Let me give it him,” said Morgan, as the boy’s mouth opened widely again, and there was a pitiful, imploring look in his eyes.

Now I could not understand all that when I was so young, but I’ve often thought about it since, and seemed to read it all, and how nature was making him beg for water for his parched tongue, while his education forced upon him the desire to fight me as a cruel enemy.

“There,” I said, going a little nearer, pushing the baler close to his hands, and drawing back.

He looked at me, then at the water, and back at me, fixing me with his eyes, as one hand stole slowly from his side towards the baler, drawing it nearer and nearer stealthily, as if in dread of my snatching it away; and then it was at his lips, and he gulped down the contents.

“There, I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, stretching out my hand for the baler, and getting it, meaning to go and fill it once more; and as I returned I saw that he was watching me so wildly that I walked up, with him shrinking away as far as he could go, and offered the tin to him again.

He took it in the same shrinking way, evidently expecting a blow, and drank heavily once more.

“Well, he couldn’t ha’ swallowed much, Master George, else he wouldn’t be so thirsty,” said Morgan. “Now give this here one a dose, though it seems to me labour in vain; only it may make him go off a bit easy.”

He filled the baler, and I knelt down again to sprinkle the poor fellow’s temples, and trickle a few drops once more between his lips, the boy watching me the while, and then giving me the first notice of my father’s return by shuffling away in another direction.

“Poor wretch!” I heard my father mutter, as he gave me a piece of bread-cake, and pointed to the boy, before taking the cork from a bottle, and slowly dropping a spoonful or two of spirit between the man’s teeth.

After this he waited, and I saw that the boy was watching him wildly. Then he poured in a little more, without apparently the slightest effect, and after looking on for a few minutes, I advanced toward the boy, holding out the cake. But I stopped short, with my hand extended, looking at him, and then, as he took no notice of the cake, but stared wildly at me, I broke off a few crumbs, and began to eat before him, treating him as I would have treated some savage creature I wished to tame, and breaking off a piece and throwing it within his reach.

Then I went on eating again, and after a time I saw his hand steal slowly to the bread, his eyes fixed on mine, and he snatched the piece and conveyed it to his mouth with a motion that was wonderful from its rapidity.

This I repeated two or three times before feeling that I ought now to have won his confidence a little, when I went close to him, put down the cake, and went back to kneel by my father, whose hand was upon the man’s throat.

“Is he getting better?” I said.

There was a shake of the head, and I looked then with a feeling of awe at the black face before me, with the eyes so close that there was just a gleam of the white eyeballs visible; but as I gazed, I fancied I saw a jerking motion in the throat, and I whispered to my father to look.

“A good sign, or a bad one, my boy,” he whispered. “You had better go now, back to the house.”

“Yes, father,” I said, unwillingly; “but don’t you think you can cure him like you did me when I was so ill?”

“I would to heaven I could, boy!” he said, so earnestly that I was startled, and the more so that at the same moment the man slowly opened his eyes, and stared at us vacantly.

“It is a hopeful sign,” said my father, and he took the baler, poured out all but a few drops of water, added some spirit, and placed it to the man’s lips, with the result that he managed to drink a little, and then lay perfectly still, gazing at my father with a strange look which I know now was one full of vindictive hate, for the poor wretch must have read all this attention to mean an attempt to keep him alive for more ill-treatment, or until he was sold.

“Take a little more,” said my father, offering the vessel again, and the man drank and once more lay still, glaring at us all in turn.

“Why, you’ll save him after all, sir,” said Morgan, eagerly. “Hurrah!”

But no one paid heed to his remark, for at that moment there was a sort of bound, and we saw that the boy had contrived to force himself so near that he could lay his hand on the man’s cheek, uttering as he did so a few words incomprehensible to us, but their effect on the man was magical: his features softened, and two great tears stole slowly from his eyes as we watched the pair, the boy glaring at us defiantly, as if to protect his companion, and I heard my father say softly—

“Thank God!”

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