As the middy approached, it was drawn open again.

"Hallo, Tom!" said the lad. "Back already?"

"Ay, ay, sir! There's on'y two cabins to look at there, and one's a cook's galley, and t'other's stooard's pantry."

"Did you see the black servants?"

"No, sir, and there ain't no white uns neither."

"Sort of summer-house," thought Murray; and then in connection with his duty he told the sailor to go up-stairs and examine the bedrooms.

"Which way does the cabin ladder lie, sir?" asked the man.

"I don't know, Tom," was the reply. "Try that door."

He pointed to one that was on the far side of the hall and had struck him at first as a movable panel to close up a fire-place; but upon the light cane frame being drawn out it revealed a perpendicular flight of steps, up which the sailor drew himself lightly and lowered himself down again.

"Well?"

"Arn't no rooms there, sir," whispered the man, with rather an uneasy look in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"It's just the ship's hold, sir, turned upside down like. Sort o' cock loft of bamboo spars jyned together at the top—rafters, don't they call 'em, sir?"

"Yes, of course."

"That's right, then, sir, and they're all thatched and caulked with palm leaves."

"Not a bedroom at all, then, Tom."

"No, sir, but it's a sort o' sleeping accommodation all the same, 'cause there's a couple o' netting sort o' hammocks slung all ready; but I shouldn't like to have my quarters there," continued the man uneasily.

"Why not? It must be cool and pleasant."

"Cool, sir, but not kinder pleasant."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you see, sir, it's so plaguey dark."

"What of that? So's the sloop's hold."

"Yes, sir, but this here's so unked dark."

"Well, you don't mind the dark?"

"No, sir, I dunno as I do so long as I've got my messmates nigh at hand."

"Look here, Tom, I don't understand you," said Murray. "You're keeping something back. Why are you hesitating? You don't mind the dark."

"No, sir; it's the rustling sounds as I don't like."

"Pooh! Rats," said Murray.

"Nay, nay, sir. I knows what a rat can do in a ship's hold as well as any one who has been to sea. What I heered arn't no rats."

"Birds, then."

"Tchah, sir! That arn't no birds."

"What is it, May, since you seem to know?"

"Some'at oncanny, sir."

"Uncanny? What can it be uncanny?"

"I dunno, sir. Some'at as arn't real."

"What do you mean?"

"I dunno, sir, and I 'spects—"

"Suspect what? Why, Tom, you don't mean to tell me that a great strong sailor like you fancies that the place is haunted?"

"Oh no, sir, I don't go so far as to say that," said the man.

"Then what do you mean?"

"That's what I can't exackly tell you, sir. All I knows is that as soon as I got my head and shoulders well up among them bamboos there was a roosh as if half-a-dozen people was a-comin' at me, and then some one whispered something to the others, and they whispered back. It was jest for all the world, sir, as if some one said 'Hist! It ain't him,' and t'others whispered back and that settled 'em into going on talking together oneasy like; and then I come down."

"Without making out what it was, Tom," said Murray, laughing softly.

"Nay, sir; I seemed to know right enough; and it arn't nothing to laugh at."

"What is it, then, Tom?"

"Why, sir, I don't go for to say as it is, but it sounded to me like oneasy slaves as had met their ends aboard some o' they slaving craft, and couldn't rest."

"Tom May!" said the middy; and he would have burst out laughing, but for the thought that he might awaken the sick man in the room where he had lain down to rest. "Come out here."

"It's of no use to say anything to the lads outside," grumbled the big sailor, "for they think just the same as I do, sir."

"Why, you haven't spoken to them," said Murray.

"Not to-day, sir, but we often have talked about it, sir, and what might happen to them fellows as man the slaving schooners. Something must come to 'em some time or another after what they've done to the niggers. Stands to reason, sir, as they can't go on always as they do."

"I'm not going to argue about that at a time like this, but I do wonder at a big sensible fellow like you are, Tom—a sailor I always feel proud of—beginning to talk about ghosts and rooms being haunted, just like some silly superstitious old woman."

Tom May drew himself up proudly and smiled at the first portion of his young officer's speech, but frowned at the latter and shook his head.

"Ah, it's all very well, sir, for a young gentleman like you to talk that how, and you and Mr Roberts, sir, has been at me before and laughed at me and my messmates; but, you see, we're a deal older than you are, and been at sea two or three times as long. We've seen bad storms, and all sorts o' wonders such as young people don't come across."

"No doubt, Tom," said Murray quietly; "but come along outside. I want to station my posts."

"Ay, ay, sir!" said the man, with a sigh of relief; but before he followed his officer he stepped on tiptoe to the opening leading up to the loft, and made an offer, so to speak, shrank back, then advanced again, and ended by sharply and shrinkingly closing the screen-like door and backing away with a sigh of relief.

"Feel better, Tom?" said the middy, with mock seriousness, as they stood out in the full light of day again.

"Ah, you're a-laughing at me, sir," said the big sailor, shaking his head. "I know, sir, though you're a-pretending to look as serious as a judge."

"Enough to make me look serious, Tom. But are you sure that any of the restless ones didn't slip down after you before you shut the door?"

"Eh? What, sir?" whispered the man hurriedly.

"You don't think as—" He looked behind and round about him, before continuing. "Why, of course I am, sir. You're a-making fun of a fellow, sir. But if you'd been up yonder and heered 'em—"

"I should have poked about with the barrel of my musket and found that the rustling was made by birds or rats."

"Nay, sir," said the man confidently, "'twarn't neither o' they things. If it had been they'd ha' skilly wiggled away at once. And besides, sir, they wouldn't ha' made a man feel so 'orrid squirmy like. I felt all of a shudder; that's what made me know that they were something as didn't ought to be."

"Snakes, perhaps, Tom."

The man started, stared, snatched off his straw hat, and gave his head a vicious rub, before having another good look back at the thatch-roofed summer-house of a place.

"Say, Mr Murray, sir," he said at last, "did you say snakes?"

"Yes, Tom; perhaps poisonous ones."

The man gave his head another rub, and then ejaculated in a strange long-drawn way the one word—

"Well!"

"I've read that in places like this they creep in under the flooring, and then make their way up the holes and into the thatch after the birds or rats upon which they live."

"Do they now, sir?" said the man excitedly.

"Yes, and some of them are horribly poisonous; so you must take care how you deal with them."

"Poisonous, sir?" continued Tom. "Them sort as if they bite a man it's all over with him and the doctor arn't able to save his life?"

"Yes, Tom," continued Murray; "in one of these islands particularly the people call the serpent the fer de lance, a bite from which is very often fatal."

"Kills a man, sir?"

"I believe so."

"Then I arn't surprised at them calling it so, sir. Nothing could be too bad for it. That's it, sir, and now I arn't a bit surprised at my feeling as I did, sir. I wondered what made me come so all-overish like and fancy there was something about as oughtn't to be. I arn't a chap as gets skeared about a bit o' danger, sir; now, am I, sir?"

"No, Tom; I believe you to be a brave fellow that your officers can always trust."

"Thankye, sir; that's what I want to be—chap as can stand a bit o' fire, sir, eh?" said the man, with a broad grin.

"Yes, Tom, and that's what made me feel vexed at your being so superstitious."

"Sooperstitious, sir?" said the man, giving his head another rub. "That's what you call it, is it, sir? Well, but arn't it enough to make a fellow feel a bit creepy, sir, to have them dry-land eels squirming about overhead ready to give him a nip as means Dr Reston shaking his head all over you and calling your messmates to sew you up in your hammock with a twenty-four pound shot at your feet, and the skipper reading the sarvice over you before the hatch upon which you lays is tilted up, and then splash, down you goes out o' sight at gunfire. I don't see, sir, as a fellow has much to be ashamed of in being a bit shivery."

"Nor I, Tom, if he shivered from an instinctive fear of a poisonous serpent. But you were not afraid of that, eh?"

Tom May screwed up his face again with a comical grin, shook his head, and then, after a glance here and there at his messmates who were to be stationed as sentries—

"Well, not azackly, sir," he said. "I was reg'larly skeared at something, and I did not know what; but I see now, sir. It was my natur' to—what you called 'stinctive."

"Well, we'll leave it there, Tom," said Murray smiling, "but I'm not quite satisfied. I'll go and have a look by and by."

"Ah! But Mr Murray, sir, you won't go and think I was a bit—"

"Never mind what I thought, Tom; and now come on. I want to see about the positions the men are to be in. To begin with, I should like the two men in the cutter to lie off a bit further."

The order was given, and a fresh position was taken up before the middy walked carefully all round the planter's rest-house and carefully stationed his men on duty, adding a few words about keeping a sharp lookout for the approach of danger, and at a whisper from the big sailor, including snakes.

This done, the lad began to amuse himself by examining the attempts that had been made to render the place beautiful, and it was while thus engaged, and noting that the forest all round the clearing and cultivation was apparently impenetrable, giving the idea that the cottage could only be approached by water, that Tom followed up three or four rather peculiar sniffs by one that was most suggestive of a desire to call his officer's attention to something he wished to say.

Murray, who was pretty well acquainted with the sailor's peculiarities, turned upon him at last sharply—

"Well, Tom," he said, "what is it?"

"Oh, nothing, sir, on'y I didn't want to seem imperent."

"I'm glad to hear it, my lad; but what did you want to say?"

"I was on'y thinking, sir."

"What about?"

"Why, sir, it seemed to me as if we was taking so much trouble to keep watch over this here sick gentleman."

"Well, go on; don't hesitate so."

"Beg pardon, sir; I hesitate like 'cause I don't want to seem imperent."

"Then I'll forgive you if it is, Tom. Now then, what were you going to say?"

"Only this, sir; wouldn't it have been handier like to ha' kep' him aboard the Seafowl where the watches are going on reg'lar, and the doctor could ha' looked in upon him now and then?"

"Perhaps it would, Tom," replied Murray, "but Captain Kingsberry and the first lieutenant may have had special reasons for what they are doing."

"Of course, sir; azackly, sir; but somehow this here does seem a bit quiet like after what we was doing before."

"Less exciting, Tom?"

"Yes, sir. Don't think it likely, do you, sir, that the Yankee chap who has been giving the gent inside so much trouble and nearly wherriting his life out over the slaver, may drop in to see him, do you, sir?"

"No, Tom, I don't," said the middy shortly. "Neither do you."

Tom May shook his head and looked very hard at his officer.

"Beg pardon, sir, but you arn't quite right like, because that's just what I was thinking, and that you might like for us all to be quite ready for him if he did come."

"What more could I do, Tom?" said the lad anxiously, for the man's words made him think that he had been neglecting some precaution. "A good lookout is being kept, isn't it?"

"Seaward, sir," replied the man, "but I was thinking as the lads round the back arn't in sight of one another."

"Oh!" cried Murray. "And you think that the enemy might come stealing down one of the paths through the forest?"

"Didn't see no paths, sir," said the man, looking at him wonderingly.

"Neither did I, Tom."

"O' course not, sir," said the man, giving himself a punch in the ribs with his doubled fist. "Here, I don't know what I could be thinking of."

"Nor do I, Tom. Mine's rather a curious duty, namely, to take care that this gentleman does not leave this place, and to treat him as it seems to me so that while he is a prisoner he shall not in his state of health fancy that he is one."

"Skipper wants to keep friends with him so as he'll show us where all the niggers are, sir, and give us a chance to make a good haul of prize money?"

"Perhaps so, Tom."

"Well, sir, captain knows best, and the first luff knows what's second best. I dunno about Mr Munday, sir, but I wish some un else had my watch, that I do, sir. Our job burning out the black chief's place over yonder was a bit too hot a job, but I'd rather have orders to do the same sort o' thing again than be doing this here. It's too sleepy for me. Can't you set me 'sploring, sir, or something of that kind? For I'm no good at all onless I'm on active sarvice."

"You'll have plenty to do by and by, Tom, depend upon it."

"Hope so, sir, but I want something to do now. Couldn't do a bit o' fishing, could I, sir?"

"No, Tom; we have no hooks and lines."

"That's a pity, sir. Seems to me that one might catch a good dish for the gunroom mess, and a few over for the men, judging from the way they bit out in the lagoon there, sir."

"We're on duty, Tom."

"O' course, sir. What do you say to me and a couple of the lads cutting bamboos and routing out the snakes I heered yonder in the roof. Too dangerous, perhaps, sir?"

"Much, Tom, and I don't think it would accord with our duty here."

"No, sir; o' course not, but you'll excuse me, sir?"

Murray nodded, and then, feeling hot and drowsy with the heat and silence, he suddenly recalled what the planter had said about summoning the servants if he wanted anything.

"Fruit!" he said to himself. "Well, I'll begin with a good drink of water.—I'm going to have a look round, Tom," he said quietly.

"Thankye, sir; I'm glad of it," said the man eagerly; and he followed his officer promptly as he walked round the cottage, and said a few words to his sentries, who seemed to gladly welcome the coming of some one to relieve the silence and monotony of their task.

As he passed round the extreme pale of the garden-like clearing, Murray noted more than ever how the grounds were enclosed by a natural hedge of the densest kind, so that it was like a wall of verdure which was admirably tended and for the most part of the tropical kind, being kept clipped and intertwined to such an extent that it would have been impossible for wild creatures if they haunted the island to pass through.

Returning to the front, and after glancing at his boat, Murray signed to the big sailor to follow him, and entered through the verandah and the porch into the armoury-like hall, where he stood listening for a few moments before making a gesture to silence his man, who was about to speak. For Tom stood with wrinkled brow gazing hard at the screen which covered the way up to where the hammocks hung, as if rather uneasy in his mind about what that screen covered.

"I'll be back directly, Tom," said Murray, and then he went on tiptoe into the room he had mentally dubbed the study, and found that apparently the planter had not stirred, but was plunged in the deep sleep of exhaustion.

"I will not wake him," thought the lad, and after gazing down at the worn and wasted countenance before him, his eyes again wandered over the walls and their decorations. He again noted the case upon the table, and then stepped back to where his man stood musket in hand watching the screen.

"Well, Tom," said the lad; "heard anything of the snakes?"

"No, sir, and I've been listening for 'em for all I'm worth. I don't think they'll stir onless they hear the way up shook. Seems a rum place to get up and sleep. I should expect to find the snakes had took the hammocks first."

"Well, we're not going to disturb them, my lad; but come into that other room; I want a glass of water, and I suppose you could manage a drink too."

"Thankye, sir; I just could—a big one. I should ha' ventured to ask if I might get one, only I'm pretty sure that lake water's as salt as brine."

"There must be a spring somewhere," said the lad, and making his way into the room that was used for meals, he advanced to the table at one side, where there was another hand-bell. "I don't want to awaken our prisoner, Tom," he said. "Here, take up the bell and go through to the back where the pantry place is, and ring gently."

"Ay, ay, sir!" And the man softly raised the bell, thrusting in his hand so as to secure the tongue, and then the pair stepped back into the hall and through the door at the back, Murray closing it after them, before he signed to his follower to ring.

The man obeyed, at first gently, but as there was no reply he rang more loudly, and followed up his summons by thrusting the bell through a window at the back and sounding it vigorously.

"Can't be no one at home, sir," said the big sailor, turning to gaze at his officer.

"So it seems," said Murray, as he stood in the intense silence listening; "but that Mr Allen said that his servants would come and attend to any of my wants."

"Them chaps as rowed was all his servants or slaves, I suppose, sir?" said the man.

"Yes; but it is the hottest time, and these people out here always sleep in the middle of the day. Go out and follow up the side of that stream where they poled up the boat."

Tom May looked at him in a peculiar way.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" said Murray.

"I warn't with you when the blacks pulled the boat away."

Murray started, and stared at his man in turn.

"Neither was I there," he said, with a strange feeling of being puzzled assailing him.

"You said poled up the stream, not pulled, sir," said the man. "I didn't think when I spoke."

"How absurd!" said Murray. "Here, let's go out this way round to the front and hail the cutter. The boat-keepers will know."

"It's all right, sir," said May, for there was a rustling sound at the back and light steps, and the man exclaimed, "Here's one of them."

"Why, it's one of our lads," said Murray excitedly.

"There's a bell ringing somewhere, sir," said the sailor, who now came out of the deep shadow at the back of the cottage. "Was it you, messmate?"

"Yes, my lad," said Tom, speaking to his brother sailor, but staring hard at his officer the while. "This here's the bell, lad, and it was me."



CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

BOILING OVER.

"Have you seen any of the black servants about?" asked Murray.

He was going to say slaves, but the word sounded so repugnant that he changed it.

"Them black chaps, sir?" replied the man. "You mean them as rowed the boat?"

"Yes, or any other ones about the place."

"No, sir, only them as rowed, sir, and I was wondering where they got to. They seemed to go out, boat and all, like a match. I see 'em one minute, and the next they'd gone in amongst the trees; but where it was I couldn't make out, and when I asked one of my messmates he didn't seem to know neither."

"Go back to your post, my lad," said Murray. "Keep a sharp lookout, and report everything you see."

"Ay, ay, sir!" said the man, saluting and going back amongst the trees, watched by Murray and May till he disappeared, when their eyes met in a questioning look.

The sailor was the first to speak.

"Yes, sir!" he said. "Was you saying anything?"

"No, Tom; I thought you were going to speak."

"No, sir. I was only thinking it seemed precious queer."

"Yes, it does—queer is the word, Tom. I can't quite make it out."

"That's what's the matter with me, sir. Seems so lonesome like. Makes me feel as if somebody was dead here, and I was precious glad when you spoke. Something arn't right somehow."

"The place is lonely because the people have taken fright at our coming and gone off into the forest, I suppose. It is a lonely place, as we found out for ourselves when we had lost our way."

"Oh, that's it, is it, sir? Well, I'm glad to know it, but somehow that don't seem quite enough for me. I still keep feeling as something's wrong, and as I said sir,—don't laugh at me, sir, 'cause I can't help it. I arn't got a head like you as eggsplains everything for you. I get a bit silly and puzzled like sometimes, and just now it seems to me like a man might feel if some one was dead here."

As the sailor spoke he pushed his straw hat back from his forehead and wiped the big drops of perspiration away.

"Tom," said Murray sharply, "you're about the most superstitious fellow I ever ran against. You're frightened of shadows."

"Yes, sir, you're right," whispered the man eagerly, and he glanced sharply about him. "Shadders—that's it, sir; that's just what I am: things as I can't understand and feel like. I allers was, sir, and fell foul o' myself for it; but then, as I says to myself, I ain't 'fraid o' nothing else. I'm pretty tidy and comf'table in the wussest o' storms, and I never care much if one's under fire, or them black beggars is chucking their spears at you, because you've got some'at to shoot at again."

"No, Tom; you're stout enough then."

"Thankye, sir; I am, arn't I? But at a time like this, when you've got pyson sarpents crawling about over your head, and what's worse, the sort o' feeling comes over you that you're in a place where as we know, sir, no end of them poor niggers as was torn away from their homes has come to a bad end, I'm that sooperstitious, as you call it, that I don't know which end of me's up'ards and which down. I don't like it, Mr Murray, sir, and you may laugh at me, sir, but I'm sure as sure that there's something wrong—some one dead, I believe, and pretty close to us too."

"Not that Mr Allen, Tom?" said Murray, starting, and in spite of his fair share of common sense, lowering his voice, as for the moment he seemed to share the sailor's fancies.

"Him, sir?" whispered the man. "Like as not, sir. He looked bad enough to be on his way for the locker."

"Yes," agreed Murray; "he looked bad enough. But pooh! Nonsense!"

"Pooh! Nonsense it is, sir. But mightn't it be as well to go in and see how he is, sir, and ask him 'bout where the black servants is?"

"Wake the poor fellow up from a comfortable sleep just because you have taken a silly notion into your head, Tom? Why, you are going to make me as fanciful as you are yourself!"

"Yes, sir, I wish you was," said the man. "I should feel a deal better then."

"But I don't know, Tom," said Murray suddenly. "I don't want to disturb him; still, as he told me to do just as I pleased here, and when I wanted anything to ring for the servants—"

"Yes, sir, and they don't obey orders, sir, as they should; it's like doing him a good turn, sir, to let him know that his crew's a bit mutinous, being on'y slaves, you know, and like us, sir, agen him."

"Come with me, Tom," said the lad, yielding to a sudden resolve. "I will just wake him and ask a question or two."

"Come with you, sir!" said the man to himself. "I just think I will! You don't ketch me letting you leave me all alone by myself in this here unked old place;" and after a sharp glance in the direction of the way up, he followed his young officer on tiptoe into the room where they had left the planter asleep; and then both started back in astonishment, to stare one at the other. For the couch was vacant, and for a few minutes the surprise sealed the middy's lips.

"Why, Tom," he said at last, "we left that Mr Allen there asleep!"

"He'd got his eyes shut, sir," said the sailor dubiously.

"And now he has gone, Tom."

"Well, he arn't here 't all events, sir."

"But where can he be?" cried Murray. "I did not see him come out."

"No, sir, I didn't neither," said the man, shaking his head very solemnly.

"I—I can't understand it, Tom. Can he have—"

"Gone up-stairs to get a nap there, sir, 'cause the hammocks is more comf'table?" suggested the man.

"Impossible."

"I dunno, sir. He's used to snakes, o' course, and they knows him."

"But we must have seen him go, Tom. We have been about all the time."

"Must ha' been when we was out at the back, sir, ringing the bell. That's it, sir; you woke him up, and he turned grumpy like and went somewheres else so as not to be disturbed."

"That must be it, Tom, and you have hit the mark. There, slip up the stairs quietly and see if he is in one of the hammocks."

The sailor's face crinkled up till it resembled the shell of a walnut; then he twisted his shoulders first to the left, then to the right, and followed up that movement by hitching up his trousers, staring hard at his young officer the while.

"Well, Tom, look sharp!" cried the latter.

"Ay, ay, sir!" replied the sailor.

"Why don't you go?" cried Murray severely. "What are you thinking of?"

"Snakes, sir," said the man laconically.

"Bah!"

"And I was a-thinking, sir, that p'raps you'd do it easier than me."

"Why, Tom," cried Murray angrily, "that is disobeying your officer's orders."

"Disobeying, sir?" said the man sharply. "Nay, sir; not me. Only you see, sir, you was a-telling me about the way in which them snakes pricked a man with their tails."

"Tails! Nonsense, man! Teeth."

"I didn't 'member for sartin, sir, which end it was; but you said they did it so sharp, sir, that it killed a man out-and-out before the doctor could 'stract the sting."

"Yes, I did tell you something of the kind, Tom."

"Nay, sir, not something of the kind," cried the sailor reproachfully; "that's what it was azackly. And then you see, sir, I don't want to brag, but you telled me yourself another time that I was a werry useful man."

"That must have been a mistake, Tom, for you are not proving it now," said Murray, speaking sternly but feeling amused by the man's evasions all the while. "Why, Tom, I thought you were not afraid of anything that was solid."

"No, sir, but you can't call them squirmy tie-theirselves-up-in-a-knot things solid; now, can you?"

"Tom May, you're a sham, sir," said Murray sternly. "There, I am deceived in you. I'll go myself;" and he made for the screen quickly.

But the man was quicker, and sprang before him.

"Nay, you don't, sir! I am mortal skeared of snakes and sarpints, but I arn't going to let my officer think me a coward and call me a sham. Case I do get it badly, sir, would you mind 'membering to tell Dr Reston, sir, as they say whiskey's the best cure for bites? And as there's no whiskey as I knows on aboard, p'raps he wouldn't mind trying rum."

"I'm sure the doctor wouldn't like me meddling with his prescribing, Tom," said Murray shortly. "Now then, up with you!"

"Ay, ay, sir!" cried the man, in tones which sounded like gasps; and Murray stood by, dirk in hand, ready to make a chop at any reptile which might appear, while Tom drew himself up into the shadowy loft, and after a good look round lowered himself down again with a sigh of relief.

"No Mr Allen's up there, sir," he said.

"Then where can he be?" cried the middy excitedly, and he ran back across the hall and into the study, to pass his hand over the couch, which still felt slightly warm.

"P'raps he's gone into the gunroom, sir," said Tom respectfully.

"What, the hall where the guns and things are?"

"Nay, nay, sir; I meant the eating quarters—the dinin'-room, as you call it."

Murray ran back across the hall to see at a glance that no one was beyond, and he turned upon his follower again.

"Tom," he exclaimed angrily, "what do you make of this?"

The man shook his head.

"But he can't have come out of the study while we were looking out at the back."

"That's so, sir," said the man, shaking his head the while. "It's quite onpossible, sir, but he did."

"Tut, tut, tut!" ejaculated Murray quickly. "We must visit all the posts and see if any one saw him pass."

"They couldn't, sir, 'cause if they had they'd have challenged and stopped him."

"Of course they would," cried the lad excitedly. "Here, let's have another look round the study. He must be there."

"That's just what I'm a-thinking, sir," cried the man solemnly.

"Then where is he? Don't stand staring at me like a figure-head! Haven't you anything to say?"

"No, sir; only you 'member how all-overish I come, sir."

"Yes, when you declared it was as if there was a dead man in the place."

"Yes, sir; I knowed there was something wrong."

"Well, then, stupid," cried the lad, in a passion, "there's no live man here."

"No, sir," said Tom, shaking his head.

"Well, then," cried Murray, passionately, striking his open palm with the blue and gold inlaid blade of his dirk, "where's your dead man?"

"Can't say, sir," replied the man, speaking very slowly. "Seems to me it's a mystery."

"A mystery?" cried the middy, looking round at the pictures and other decorations of the place and addressing them as if they were sentient, listening creatures. "Here's a big six-foot strongly-built British sailor talking to his officer like an old charwoman about mysteries! You, Tom May, if ever you dare to talk such nonsense to me again, I'll punch your silly head."

"Beg pardon, your honour," said the man coolly, "but don't the articles o' war say something 'bout officers not being allowed to strike their men?"

"Bother the articles of war!" roared Murray, leaping at the man, seizing him by the shoulders, and shaking him to and fro with all his might. "Bother the articles of war!" he repeated, breathless from his exertions. "They don't say anything about knocking an idiot's head off!"

"No, sir," said the man humbly and respectfully; "not as I knows on."

"Then I feel disposed to do it," cried the middy passionately. Then stooping to pick up the dirk, which had slipped from his hand, to fall with a loud jingle upon the polished floor, "No, I don't," cried the lad, in a vexed, appealing way. "I couldn't help it, Tom! Look here, old lad; you've always been a good stout fellow, ready to stand by me in trouble."

"Ay, ay, sir, I have," said the man quietly, "and will again."

"Then help me now, Tom. Can't you see what a mess I'm in? Here has the captain entrusted me with the care of this prisoner—for prisoner he is, and you can't make anything else of him."

"Ay, ay, sir; prisoner he is, and you can't make nowt else of him."

"That's right, Tom," cried the lad, growing quite despairing in his tones. "Sooner or later Mr Anderson or Mr Munday will be coming to relieve me of my charge, and the first question whoever it is will ask me will be, Where's your prisoner?"

"Ay, ay, sir! That's right enough."

"There, there! Look at it in a straightforward business-like way," cried the lad, and to his disgust the man slowly turned his eyes all about the place.

"Bah!" cried Murray angrily. "What are you thinking of? Can't you understand that I want you to help me?"

"Ay, ay, sir, and I'm a-trying as hard as nails, sir," said the man, rousing himself up to speak more sharply; "but somehow my head don't seem as if it would go."

"Think, man—think!" cried the middy appealingly.

"That's what I'm a-doing of, sir, but nothing comes."

"He must be somewhere, Tom."

"Yes, to be sure, sir; that's it," cried the man excitedly. "You've hit it now. I couldn't have thought that myself."

"Oh-h-h-h!" groaned Murray. "Was ever poor wretch so tormented! What shall I do?"

"Lookye here, sir, I want to help you."

"Oh, I feel as if I could knock your silly old head off!" cried the middy, with a stamp upon the floor.

"Well, sir, do. You just do it if you think it will help you. I won't mind."

"Oh, Tom, Tom!" groaned Murray. "This is the worst day's work I ever did."

"Think it's any good to sarch the place again, sir?"

"But there's nothing to search, Tom."

"Well, there arn't much, sir, sartainly, but it'll be more satisfactory to go over it once more."

"Come along, then," said the middy. "Anything's better than standing still here."

"Ay, sir, so it is," said the big sailor; and together the pair went from room to room, Tom May insisting upon looking under the couch in the study, under the table, and then lifting up the square of Turkey carpet that half covered the well-made parqueterie floor, which glistened with the polishing given to it by busy slave labour.

But there was no sign of him whom they sought, and a careful examination of the garden and plantation was only followed by the discovery which they had made before, that the place was thoroughly closed in by a dense natural growth of hedge, ablaze with flowers in spite of the fact that it had been closely clipped and had grown dense in an impassable way.

"Let's get the boat here," said Murray, at last; and going to the platform, Tom May hailed the cutter where it swung from its grapnel.

"Now then, you two," cried the middy angrily, "you have been asleep!"

"Nay, sir," cried the men, in a breath.

"What, you deny it?"

"Yes, sir," said one. "It was so hot that I did get precious drowsy once."

"There, I knew I was right!"

"Beg pardon, sir; just as I was going off my mate here shoves a pin into me and rouses me up with a yell. I was never asleep."

"And you are ready to say the same?" cried the middy.

"Jes' the same sir," said the other man, "only not quite. It was the same pin, sir, but he jobbed it into me further. We was both awake all the time, sir."

"Then you must have seen that Mr Allen come out of the cottage and be rowed away."

"What, to-day, sir?" said the first boat-keeper.

"Do you think I meant to-morrow, sir?" cried Murray, who was boiling over with rage and despair.

"No, sir, of course not," replied the man, in an injured tone; "but you might ha' meant yesterday, sir."

"Of course," cried Murray—"when you were not on duty here?"

"We done our best, sir, both on us."

"Yes, yes, of course, my lads. Here, paddle May and me along the edge of the lagoon."

The man paddled the boat slowly along, and it was not until several blind lead places, where the boat could be thrust in amongst the bamboos, had been explored, that a more satisfactory portion of the surrounding watery maze was found, in the shape of a narrow way opening into another lagoon which looked wonderfully attractive and proved to be more interesting from the fact that no less than six ways out were discovered.

"Try that one," said Murray, and the boat's nose was thrust in, when Tom May held up his hand.

"Well, what have you to say against it?" cried the middy.

"I only thought, sir, as we might be trying this here one twice if we didn't mark it somehow."

"To be sure," cried Murray. "Don't you pretend to be stupid again, Tom. Now, then, how are you going to mark it?"

"Only so how, sir," said the man, with a grin; and as he stood up in the boat he bent down some of the over-arching graceful grasses and tied them together in a knot. "These here places are so all alike, sir, and it may save time."

This waterway wound in and out and doubled upon itself for what must have been several hundred yards, but the middy felt encouraged, for more and more it struck him as being a way that was used. Every now and then too it excited the lad's interest, for there was a rush or splash, and the water in front was stirred up and discoloured, evidently by a reptile or large fish; but whether those who used it had any connection with the missing man it was impossible to say.

"Shouldn't be a bit surprised, sir, if we come upon that Mr Planter's boat, sir, and his niggers. Looks the sort o' spot where they might have built a boathouse to hide their craft in when they didn't want it."

"At all events, my lad, it is one of their places, and—"

"Well, I'm blest, sir!"

"Eh? What do you mean? Why don't you go on?"

"Why, can't you see, sir?" said the big sailor sharply.

"No, Tom. Why, you don't mean to say that—"

"Yes, I do, sir," grunted the man; and he took off his straw hat to have a good puzzling scratch at his closely-cropped hair, while the middy stood up to examine two lissome tufts of leafy cane which had been bent over and tied together.

"Oh," cried Murray, "anybody might have done that who wanted to mark the place, my lad."

"Yes, sir," said the sailor, grunting, "but anybody wouldn't ha' thought to make a clove hitch, same as I did a bit ago. That's my mark, sir— T.M.'s own. I'm T.M., sir."

"Don't laugh, man," said the lad passionately. "I suppose you're right; but it's horrible, for we've been wasting so much time, and come out again in the same spot that we went in."

"Can't see as it's wasted time, sir," growled the man. "I say it's time saved, for if it hadn't been for my knot we might have gone on round again."

"Don't talk so much, sir. Give way, my lads. Get back into the lagoon, and we'll try another of these wretched cuts."

Another was soon found and duly marked by breaking down a few of the bamboos level with the water, and plaiting them this time in an unmistakable way, the result at the end of close upon an hour proving to be just the same.

"Never mind," said the middy, speaking through his set teeth. "It's horribly disappointing, Tom, but these blind water alleys haven't been made for nothing. They prove to me that there must be a special one which we have to hit, and when we do we shall find that it leads to some hiding-place—perhaps to where the planter has gone, and we must trace him."

"I don't see what good it will do, sir, if we do," said the big sailor, puckering up his brows.

"We must find him, Tom, and take him aboard as a regular prisoner this time, for he has been deceiving the captain, and all that he has said can't be true. Give way, my lads."

After further search which led to their passing another opening twice over, a spot was found where the growth seemed to be very thick; but it proved to be yielding enough at last, for the boat's prow glided through with a rush, and they passed into another tiny lagoon, where as the large reeds closed in behind them, Tom May slapped his knee loudly.

"I do call it artful, sir," he cried. "Why, who's going to show me which is the way out again? I've got my eye fixed on it, but if I shut it up I shouldn't be able to find it again. It's just this," he continued. "You holds the bamboos down or on one side, and as soon as you're gone by up they springs again; and that's why they're called bamboos, I s'pose—because they bamboozle you. Now for another way of marking this here one."

"Yes, let's have no more mistakes, Tom."

"No, sir," said the man, tightening up his lips as he pulled out his jack knife, before picking out of the biggest giant reeds, one of a tuft which towered up some five-and-twenty feet. Through this he drove his blade, the thick, rich, succulent grass yielding easily, and after keeping the wound open by the help of a messmate's knife he cut a slip, and thrusting it through the reed, he drew out the two knives so that the wound closed up tightly upon the green wedge.

"You are taking a great deal of trouble, Tom," said Murray impatiently.

"It's wuth it, sir—trust me if it arn't," said the man. "Saves time in the end; and I'm beginning to think as we're in the right cut at last."

"Give way, then, my men, and let's prove it," cried the middy impatiently, for the time was passing swiftly, and the horrible feeling grew upon him that before long some one would appear from the Seafowl to demand where the prisoner was.

The men thrust the boat swiftly across the pondlike place, for on the other side the reeds seemed to have been lately disturbed; but here there was another disappointment, for though the bamboos which rose up had certainly been broken away recently, they grew together so densely that all efforts to pass through were vain, and Tom May declared at last that it was only another blind meant to deceive.

"Let's try t'other side, sir," he said, screwing up his face.

"No, no; that looks so easy," said Murray.

"That's some one's artfulness, sir. Let's try; it won't take long."

Murray was ready enough to try any advice now so long as it seemed good, and the word being given, the two boat-keepers placed their oars in the rowlocks and rowed straight at the indicated place, with the result that they had to unship their oars, for the boat glided right through the light reeds, which gave way readily here, and almost directly after the rowing was resumed again, and they found themselves in comparatively open water for a couple of hundred yards.

"This won't want no marking, sir," whispered Tom.

"Mark it all the same, my lad, when we pass out."

"I will, sir, but we've hit the right way at last. Look how it rounds to starboard at the end, sir. I believe we're going into big water directly.—There you are, sir," added the man in a whisper, as, after rowing swiftly onward for nearly a quarter of a mile, the boat glided round a bend, where, to the midshipman's great delight, they came in sight of what was pretty evidently the long narrow barge in which the planter had paid his visit to the Seafowl.

The well-made, nattily painted craft was lying well away from the reeds which shut in the open water, moored by a rope whose grapnel was sunk not far distant, and Murray held up his hand to impress the need for silence.

"See the crew ashore anywhere, sir?" asked Tom May.

"No; I believe they're all on board asleep. Run her up quietly."

The men obeyed, and so cautiously that the next minute the cutter was close alongside, and there lay the black crew, sleeping profoundly in the hot sunshine, eyes tightly closed, mouths widely open, and quite a crowd of busy flies flitting and buzzing overhead, settling upon the sleepers in a way that would have proved maddening to ordinary people, but which seemed to have not the slightest effect upon the negroes.

"Hook on, Tom," whispered Murray excitedly. "Take care they don't slip away."

The big sailor picked up the boat-hook, and was in the act of reaching out to take hold of the boat's bow, when one of the sleepers closed his mouth, slowly opened it again in a wide yawn, and at the same time unclosed his eyes, saw the big sailor reaching towards him, and then, showing the whites of his eyes in a stare of horror and dismay, he uttered a yell which awoke the rest of the crew, who sprang up as one man, to follow their companion's example, for the first awakened as he uttered his yell bounded out of the boat and disappeared.

"No, you don't, my black friend," cried Tom, making a thrust with the boat-hook, and getting hold of the startled man by his waist-cloth, he brought him up again, kicking, splashing and plunging to the surface, and drew him hand over hand along the pole of the boat-hook till he had him alongside the now rocking cutter, when a tremendous lurch freed him. He would have got away but for the help rendered by the boat-keepers, one of whom took hold of a leg, the other of a wrist, when he was hauled in over the side, praying for mercy in very fair English, for the fact that the big sailor planted a bare foot upon his chest and pressed him down into the bottom of the cutter quite convinced him that his time had come.

"Hold your row, you black pig!" growled Tom. "Think it's killing time and you're going to be scalded and scraped?"

"Oh, massa! Oh, massa! Poor black niggah, sah!" wailed the shivering captive.

"Be quiet, or—"

Tom May turned the boat-hook pole downwards as if he were going to plunge it at the poor fellow, and his shouting came to an end.

"No use to go ashore after the rest, sir, eh?" said Tom enquiringly.

"Not the slightest," replied Murray, as the last of the crew reached the fringing bamboos and plunged in, to disappear. "But don't let that one go."

"No, sir; he's right enough. Better let him know that we're not going to kill him, though."

"Be quiet, sir!" cried Murray, stepping alongside to where May had his foot upon the shivering slave's chest. "No one is going to hurt you."

"Oh, massa! Oh, massa! Poor niggah, sah!" sobbed the poor fellow, and he placed his hands together as if in prayer.

"Hold your tongue! Be quiet!" cried Murray. "Now then, speak out. Where's your master?"

"Oh, massa! You massa now!" sobbed the poor wretch, shivering violently.

"Be quiet, sir!" cried Murray. "Don't be afraid to speak. Now then, tell me. Where is your master?" It was some minutes before the poor fellow could grasp the fact that he was not going to be killed outright, and in the meantime his companions had begun to show themselves, a face here and a face there, around the edge of the long winding lake, horribly frightened to a man, but fascinated and held to the spot by their strong desire to see what became of their companion.

"See 'em, sir?" whispered Tom May.

"Oh yes, I see them; but I want to try and get some information out of this poor shivering wretch."

"We might ketch the rest on 'em, sir," said the big sailor, "by using this one as a bait. Shall we try, sir?"

"No, no; this one will know all they could tell, if we can make him speak."

"Shall I try, sir?"

"No, no, Tom; you're too big and—"

"Ugly, sir?" said the man, with a grim smile, for Murray had stopped speaking.

"Too ugly to him," said the middy, laughing.

"Here, you sir," he added gently, as he bent down and tapped his prisoner upon the shoulder.

"Oh, massa! Poor niggah, sah!"

"Yes, yes; you said that before," cried Murray.

"Poor beggars, sir, they've been so ill-used that they think every white man is going to murder 'em."

"Well, let's show the poor fellow that we are not all savages; but we've begun pretty roughly, Tom, to win this one's confidence. You did give it him pretty hard."

"Well, yes, sir, I was a bit rough to him; but if I hadn't been he'd have got away."

"Now then, let me try. Here, my lad, I want your master."

"Massa, sah?" cried the shivering prisoner. "Yes, sah. Massa, sah!" And as he spoke eagerly he made a snatch at the midshipman's ankle, caught it between both hands, and raising the lad's foot placed it quickly upon his forehead.

"Hullo! What do you mean by that?"

"Massa! Massa now, sah. Poor niggah massa."

"Oh, bother! Nonsense!" cried Murray. "No, no. Where's your master, Mr Allen?"

"Massa Allen, sah. Good massa, sah. Sick man; go die soon."

"Good master?"

"Yes, sah! Good massa, sick bad, sah. Die, sah."

"Well, where is he—Massa Allen?"

"House, sah. Go sleep, sah," said the man, growing eager and excited, and making an effort to replace Murray's foot upon his head.

"No, no; don't do that," cried the lad impatiently. "Now tell me, where is your master?"

"Massa Allen, sah. House, sah. Go sleep, sah."

"It's very evident he does not know, Tom," said Murray. "What's to be done? Do you think we could get anything out of the others?"

"No, sir. If he don't know they don't."

"Well, what is best to be done?"

"Try t'others, sir. I don't think it's any good, but we might try."

"But we must catch them first."

"Oh, that's soon done, sir."

"But how?"

The big sailor laughed.

"When I was a youngster, sir, we boys used to get out in one of the Newlyn boats, sir—in Mount's Bay, sir, and trail a line behind to get a few mack'rel, sir, for our mothers. Well, sir, it was easy enough to trail the line and hook, but it warn't so easy always to get the bait; for we used to think the best bait was a lask."

"A what, Tom?"

"Lask, sir, and that's a strip out of the narrowest part of a mackerel, cut with a sharp knife down to the bone, so that when the hook was put through one end one side was raw fish and the other was bright and silvery."

"I see, Tom," said Murray.

"Nay, sir, you only fancy you can see it. If you could see it twirling and wiggling in the water when it was dragged after the boat and we pulled fast, you'd see it looked just like a little live fish, and the mack'rel shoot theirselves after it through the water and hook theirselves. That's the best bait for a mack'rel, and after the same fashion one nigger's the best bait to catch more niggers."

"Then you think we can get hold of more of the boat's crew by—"

"Yes, sir," said Tom, interrupting and grinning the while, "but without cutting a piece out of him with either a knife or a whip. Poor chaps, they get that often enough, I'll be bound. You only want to let this one see that he won't be hurt, and he'll soon bring the others up."

"But we've been so rough with him already. I'm afraid it will be a hard task."

"Not it, sir. They get so knocked about that a good word or two soon puts matters right again. You try, sir."

"Why not you, Tom? You seem to know their ways better than I do."

"Nay, sir, you try. See how he's watching of us, sir; he's trying to make out what we want him for, and he knows a lot of plain English. You try him, sir."

"What shall I say, Tom?"

"Oh, anything you like, sir. You're cleverer than I am, sir. Here, I know—tell him you want the other chaps to man the boat. They'll come fast enough if he calls 'em."

"Here goes, then, Tom; but I don't believe I shall do any good.—Here, Sambo!" he cried.

The man showed his glistening white teeth in a very broad grin and shook his head.

"Not Sambo?" said Murray. "Well, then, what is your name?"

"Caesar, sah—July Caesar."

"Well, Caesar, then. I want your master, Mr Allen."

"In de house, sah. De lilly house;" and the black pointed in the direction of the cottage. "Sick, bad, sah."

"Not there now, Caesar," said Murray.

"Big house, Plantashum," said the black sharply, and he pointed in quite another direction.

"Oh, at the plantation house?" said Murray.

"Yes, sah."

"Call your fellows, then, to row the boat to where he is," said the middy.

The black looked at him doubtfully.

"Boys run away, sah. 'Fraid massa take 'em sell to bad massa."

"Oh no," said Murray, reaching forward to pat the man upon the shoulder; but the poor fellow's action told its own tale. He started violently, shrinking right away with a look of dread in his eyes. "There, don't do that," Murray continued, "I'm not going to hurt you;" and following the man he patted his shoulder softly, when the look of horror faded away, to give place to a faint smile, one which broadened into a grin.

"Massa no take and sell boys away?"

"No; tell them we come to set them free," said Murray.

"Set niggah free?" cried the black excitedly.

"Yes; that's why my ship has come."

"Massa Huggin say come catch all de boy an' flog 'em heart out."

"Did your overseer tell you that, boy?" growled Tom May; and the man winced at the deep fierce voice of the sailor.

"Yes, sah; flog 'em all, sah."

"Then you tell your Massa Huggin he's a liar," growled the big sailor.

The black showed his teeth in a wider grin than ever as he shook his head.

"No tell um," he said. "Massa Huggin kill um dead."

"Where is he now?" said Murray sharply.

"Massa Allen sick, sah."

"No, no; Mr Huggins!"

"Massa sailor captain tell Massa Huggin—"

"No, no; I'm not going to tell your overseer anything."

The black looked at the speaker searchingly for a few moments, glanced round as if to see whether they were likely to be overheard; and then, as if gaining confidence, he leaned towards the midshipman and whispered—

"Massa overseer go to get men from schooner—fighting men come and kill sailor and burn up ship. Big fire. Burn ship. Burn, kill sailor. Massa no tell what Caesar say?"

"Oh no; I shall not tell Master Huggins, Caesar," said Murray, smiling. "Now tell your men to come back and row your boat. I want to find Mr Allen."

The black looked searchingly in the midshipman's face once more, and then apparently gaining confidence, he turned sharply upon the big sailor, when that which he had gained seemed to be dying out again and he glanced at the shore of the lagoon, and Tom read so plainly that the black was thinking again of flight that he gave him a sharp slap on the shoulder, making him wince violently and utter a low sob.

"Why, you are a pretty sort of fellow," cried the sailor, his face opening out into a jovial smile. "You seem to have a nice idee of a British sailor!"

"Bri'sh sailor?" said the black, slowly repeating the tar's words. "You Bri'sh sailor, hey?"

"To be sure I am, my lad—leastwise I hope so."

"Bri'sh sailor no hurt poor niggah?"

"Not a bit of it, darkie. Can't you understand we've come to set the slaves free?"

"No," said the black sadly. "Massa Huggin say—"

"Massa Huggin say!" growled the big sailor, frowning fiercely. "You tell your Massa Huggins that the British sailor is going to—See here, you benighted heathen. I want to make you understand some'at. There, hold still; I'm not going to hurt you. Now see."

As the sailor spoke he untied the knot of his neckerchief and threw it round the black's neck, made a fresh slip-knot and drew it tight, and with horrible realism held up one end of the silken rope, while with a low wail the poor shivering wretch sank unresistingly upon his knees in the bottom of the boat.

"Don't, don't, Tom! You're frightening the poor fellow to death."

"Nay, sir; he'll understand it directly. It's all right, darkie," he continued, with a broad grin at the black's fear. "I want to show you what a British sailor means to do with your Massa Huggins."

"Massa Huggin? No kill Caesar?"

"Kill Caesar, darkie?" cried the sailor. "No, no. Hang—yard-arm— Massa Huggins. We'll teach him to talk about burning his Majesty's Ship Seafowl. There, now do you understand?" cried Tom, slipping off the black silk handkerchief and knotting it properly about his own brawny neck, while as he gave the black another hearty clap on the shoulder the poor fellow's shiny black face seemed to have become the mirror which reflected a good deal of the tar's jovial smile. "There, sir," continued the big sailor; "that's our Mr Dempsey's way o' teaching a man anything he don't understand. 'Show him how it's done,' he says, 'with your fisties, and then he can see, and he never forgets it again.'"

"That's all very well, Tom," said Murray, smiling, "but it's rather a rough style of teaching, and you nearly made the poor fellow jump overboard."

"That was afore he began to grasp it, sir. He's got it now. You can see now; eh, darkie?"

"Bri'sh sailor kill Massa Huggin, no kill poor niggah," cried the black.

"There, sir, what did I say?" cried Tom. "British tar's the niggers' friend, eh, what's your name?"

The black sprang up and executed two or three steps of what he meant most probably for a triumphal dance.

"Steady, my lad, or you'll have one of them stick-in-a-brick pretty little foots of yours through the bottom planks of the boat."

Plop! went the black, letting himself down, not upon his feet, but upon his knees, and laying his head between the sailor's feet he caught one by the ankle, raised it and began to plant it upon his woolly head.

"What game does he call that, sir?" cried Tom, in astonishment.

"He's following up your style of teaching by an object-lesson, Tom," cried the middy merrily. "It's to show you he's your slave and friend for ever."

"Ho!" ejaculated the big sailor. "That's it, is it? Well, that'll do, darkie; we understand one another; but recklect this, you arn't civilised enough yet for object-lessons. Here, what are you up to now?"

For the black had shuffled upon his knees to the side of the boat, to hold his hands to the sides of his capacious mouth, while he sent forth a cry wonderfully like the blast given trumpet-like through a conch shell to call slaves to plantation work in the fields.

No sooner did the deep tone float across the water than there was a movement amongst the giant reeds, and first in one place and then in another and from both sides, black faces and woolly heads began to appear, while the black who had uttered the cry made for one of the oars, passed it through the rowlock astern and began to paddle the boat along cleverly enough towards his fellows, who one by one began to take to the water like so many large black dogs, springing in with heavy splash after splash and beginning to swim.

This went on, to the amusement of the sailors, till every member of the boat's black crew had been dragged into, or by his own effort had climbed into, the planter's boat.

"Better be on the lookout, my lads," said the middy. "They may play us false and row off."

"Not they, sir," said Tom confidently. "You may depend upon it they've been squinting at us through them bamboozling reeds, and took all my lesson in right up to the heft. I begin to think, sir, that when Mr Huggins shows his ugly yellow phiz to us again he'll find that we've been making a few friends among the niggers."

"I hope so, Tom; but all this time we've not been thinking about our prisoner that we were set to watch."

"Yes, sir, and that's bad; but just you cheer up, sir, and all will come right yet."

"But the prisoner, Tom—the prisoner," cried Murray sadly.

"Wait a bit, sir. Anyhow we've got his boat and his crew; and they knows his ways, and perhaps 'll find out his whereabouts a good deal better than we could."

"Yes, Tom, but—"

"Nothing like patience, sir," said the man. "You mark my words."



CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

THE LOST PRISONER.

Murray looked angrily at the big sailor for a few minutes, and then, mastering his annoyance at the easy way in which the man took his trouble, he said—

"Oh, I'll have patience enough, Tom; but what is to be done next?"

Tom May scratched his head and his eyes wandered round till they lit upon the shiny black face of the negro, who was watching him eagerly.

"I'd make that chap lead the way back to the cottage place, sir. He knows all the ins and outs, and he'll show us in half the time we could do it."

"That's good advice, Tom, but what for? I'm in no hurry to meet Mr Anderson."

"But you've got to do it, sir, and the sooner you get it over the better."

"That's true, Tom," said the middy sadly.

"'Sides, sir, how do we know but what Mr Allen may have come back while we've been gone?"

"Tom!" cried Murray excitedly, and after the fashion of the proverbial drowning man, he snatched at the straw the sailor held out to him. Turning to the black, who was squatting at his feet, he cried, "Take us to Mr Allen."

The slave nodded and grinned as he settled himself down, chattering the while to his crew, who raised their oars ready to dip them in the placid water, when a thought seemed to strike him and he tucked the oar he had seized under one knee and turned to the middy, saying sharply—

"You go kill Massa Allen?"

"Kill him? No!" cried Murray, in surprise.

The man nodded and gave the black crew an order, and their oars dipped at once, while the little English party in the cutter followed the lead, and to Murray's surprise he found himself taken through an entirely fresh canal-like lead of water of whose existence he had not the slightest idea.

"I thought so, sir," said Tom May, in a low tone of voice. "This chap knows his way about, and it's worth a Jew's eye to have found him and made friends. You'll see that he'll show us where to go. Shouldn't wonder if he takes us straight to that Mr Allen."

"If he only would, Tom!" replied the midshipman, speaking as if a great load was being taken off his mind.

"Oh, you wait a bit, sir."

"Bother your wait a bit, Tom! I'm sick of hearing it," cried the lad angrily. "Why, look here, they're making straight for the cottage after all."

"Well, didn't you expect they would, sir?" cried the big sailor.

"No; what's the good of that?"

"What I said, sir. Maybe the gentleman has come back again."

"No such good fortune, Tom. Well, we shall soon know;" and the lad sat back in the cutter's stern sheets steering and watching the planter's boat, to which he kept close up, while the black crew threaded their way in and out amongst the canes, till they pulled up by the bamboo landing-stage.

"Massa Allen in dere, sah," whispered the black, pointing at the doorway of the cottage, and smiling with satisfaction as if delighted at the skill with which he had played the part of pilot.

Murray sprang on to the creaking bamboo stage, and, ready to believe that the sick man might have returned, he signed to May to follow him, hurried into the place, thrust open the study door and had only to glance in to satisfy himself that the little room was still vacant.

"Let's look in the other room, Tom," said the middy sadly, "but it's of no use; our prisoner has not come back."

A hurried glance was given to each portion of the cottage, and then Murray led the way back to the landing-stage, where the black coxswain sat grinning a welcome.

"He's not there, my lad," cried Murray, shaking his head. "Master Allen has gone."

"Massa Allen gone!" repeated the black, and then, as if placing no faith whatever in the young officer's assertion, he shuffled out of the boat on to the stage, and then ran up to the cottage doorway, where he hesitated for a few moments before entering cautiously on tiptoe.

"See that, sir?" whispered Tom May. "He knows all about them pisonous sarpents."

At the end of a few minutes, during which the midshipman and his follower caught a glimpse or two of the black as he hurried from room to room and evidently made a thorough examination of the place, the man reappeared, with the broad eager grin his countenance had worn entirely gone, to give place to a look of concern and scare. It seemed to Murray that the black's face no longer shone but looked dull and ashy, as if he had been startled, and his voice sank to a whisper as he crept up close to the young midshipman and whispered—

"Massa Allen gone!"

"Well, I told you so," said Murray sharply. "Where has he gone?"

The black raised one hand to his lips, upon which he pressed all his fingers together, while he looked behind him and then all about as if to see if any one could hear his words—words which he seemed afraid to utter.

"Well, did you hear what I said? Where has he gone?"

The black shook his head violently.

"There, Tom, your idea is worth nothing," said Murray sadly.

"I warn't sure, sir, of course," said the man, "but still I couldn't help thinking he might have come back, 'specially as the darkie here was so cock-sure. Hallo! What's he up to now?" continued the sailor. "Hi! Stop him, my lads!"

For the black had suddenly made a dash for his boat, and sprung from the stage into his place.

Murray's first thought was that the black was about to escape with his companions, but directly after he saw the cause of the man's scare, for there was the quick, steady chop, chop of oars, and the youth's heart sank with a feeling of despair, for the bows of the Seafowl's second cutter suddenly came into sight, with her crew pulling hard, and there in the stern sat the man, after the captain, whom he least desired to see, and close by him, sitting up smart and consequential to a degree, and seeming to fix his eyes at once keenly upon those of his brother midshipman, was Roberts, looking as if he divined that something was wrong.

"And ready to jump upon me," said Murray to himself. "Oh, how am I to begin?" he thought. "I wish I was anywhere out of this!"

But the first lieutenant did not wait for the lad to begin; he opened the ball himself.

"Well, Mr Murray," he cried, "what does this mean? Why have you got the planter's boat and crew out here?"

"We found them, sir, by accident," faltered the lad.

"Well, I suppose they did not want much finding. Where is your prisoner?"

Murray gazed at his officer vacantly, trying hard to reply, but, as he afterwards said to Roberts, if it had been to save his life he could not have uttered a word.

"What's the matter, my lad?" said the chief officer kindly. "Not ill, are you?"

"No, sir," replied Murray, finding his voice at last, and watching the lieutenant hard, followed by Dick Roberts, who was grinning as if he enjoyed hearing what he looked upon as the beginning of "a wigging."

"Then why don't you speak? I said where is your prisoner?"

"I—I don't know, sir," was the extremely feeble reply.

"Wha-a-a-t!" shouted the lieutenant. "I don't know, sir," cried Murray, desperately now. "He's gone."

"Gone? My good sir," cried the lieutenant, "you were sent here in charge of him for some cryptic idea of the captain, and you tell me he's gone? You don't mean to tell me that you've let him escape!"

"I didn't let him escape, sir," faltered the lad, glancing at his brother middy and reading in his countenance, rightly or wrongly, that Roberts was triumphing over the trouble he was in—"I didn't let him escape, sir," cried Murray desperately, "for I was being as watchful as possible; but he was very ill and weak and said that he wanted to lie down in one of the rooms there. Tom May will tell you the same, sir."

"I dare say he will, sir, when I ask him," said the lieutenant sternly. "Now I am asking you the meaning of this lapse of duty."

"I did keep watch over him, sir, and posted my men all round the cottage; but when I came to see how he was getting on—"

"Getting on, sir! Getting off, you mean."

"No, sir; I did not see him go off, sir," faltered Murray.

"Don't you try to bandy words with me, sir," cried the lieutenant, beginning to fulminate with rage. "There, speak out plainly. You mean to tell me that when you came to look for your prisoner—for that is what he is—he was gone?"

"Yes, sir; that is right," said the lad sadly.

"That is wrong, Mr Murray. Gone! And you stand here doing nothing! Confound it all, man, why are you not searching for him?"

"I have been searching for him, sir."

"But you are here, my good sir, and have not found him."

"No, sir, but I have done everything possible."

"Except find him, sir. This comes of setting a boy like you to take charge of the prisoner. Well, it was the captain's choice, not mine. I'll be bound to say that if Mr Roberts had been sent upon this duty he would have had a very different tale to tell."

Murray shivered in his misery, and tried to master the desire to glance at his brother middy, but failed, and saw that Roberts was beginning to swell with importance.

"Well, Mr Murray," continued the lieutenant, after pausing for a few moments, after giving his subordinate this unkindly stab and, so to speak, beginning to wriggle his verbal weapon in the wound, "it is you who have to meet the captain when you go back after being relieved, not I. That I am thankful to say. But I fail to see, Mr Roberts, what is the good of setting you on duty with a fresh set of men to guard the prisoner, when there is no prisoner to guard. Here, show me where you bestowed the scoundrel."

Murray led the way into the cottage, with his heart beating heavily with misery; the lieutenant followed him in silence; and Roberts came last, glancing at Murray the while and with his lips moving in silence as if he were saying, "I say, you've done it now!"

"Absurd!" cried the lieutenant, a few minutes later, and after looking through the room where the planter had lain down. "You might have been sure that the prisoner would escape. Then you did nothing to guard him?"

"Yes, I did, sir," cried the lad desperately. "I posted men all round the cottage."

"And a deal of good that was! Anything else?"

"I have been examining the place all about, sir, with Tom May and the two boat-keepers."

"Well, and what was the result?"

"Only that I found one of the hiding-places of this maze of a place, sir."

"With the prisoner safe within it?"

"No, sir; I only found the planter's boat and crew, sir."

"Of course—just come back after helping their master to escape. And of course they denied it?"

"The black coxswain was as much surprised as I was, sir," said Murray.

"Of course he was, Mr Murray; perfectly astounded. Bah, man! How can you be so innocent! Well, I suppose I must try and get you out of this horrible scrape, for all our sakes. Which is the coxswain? That black fellow who has been staring at us all the time I have been listening to your lame excuses?"

"Yes, sir; and I have been thinking that he would be a valuable help to us in guiding us through the mazes of this strange place."

"Let's see first, Mr Murray, whether he will be any help to us in finding where the prisoner is. Call him here."

"I have been trying to use him in that way, sir."

"Humph!" ejaculated the lieutenant angrily. "Then now let Mr Roberts try. Here, Roberts!"

The midshipman stepped up to the officer quickly, after hearing every word that had been said.

"You called me, sir?"

"Of course I did, sir," said the lieutenant sharply, and speaking as if annoyed with himself for what he had been about to do. "Go back to the boat. Sharp!" The lad's eyes flashed with annoyance as he went back, and the chief officer turned his back and jerked his head to Murray. "Here," he said, "you had better go on with this, my lad; it is your affair."

"Thank you, sir," said the lad, heaving a sigh of relief.

"Not much to thank me for, Murray," said the chief officer kindly, "but you've made a horrible mess of this business. Now then, the black fellow."

Murray made a sign to the black, who had been listening all through with his eyes seeming to start out of his head, and he sprang out of the boat and hurried to his side.

"Look here, Caesar," he said quickly, "do you know where Mr Allen is?"

The black looked him sharply in the eyes, then gazed at the first lieutenant, and then all around as if on the lookout for danger, before he crept closer and whispered—

"Yes, massa. Caesar know."

"Hah! This sounds business-like," cried the lieutenant. "But why in the name of all that's sensible didn't you examine this fellow before, Murray?"

"I did, sir," cried the lad, trembling with excitement, as he laid his hand upon the black's arm. Then quickly, "Tell me where he is, my lad."

"Massa, Bri'sh sailor no tell Massa Huggin Caesar open him moufe?"

"No, my lad. No one shall know that you told me. Speak out."

"Massa Huggin cut Caesar all lilly pieces when he find out."

"We will take care no one shall hurt you," cried Murray excitedly. "Tell him, Mr Anderson, that we will set him free."

"To be sure," cried the lieutenant. "You shall be free."

"Bri'sh sailor officer set Caesar free,—Caesar open um moufe?"

"That's right, then open it wide, my sable friend," said the lieutenant. "Tell me."

"No, massa. Caesar tell young buccra officer;" and he turned with sparkling eyes upon Murray.

"Speak, then," cried Murray, trembling with excitement; and the black glanced round him again as if for danger, and then reached forward so as to place his lips close to the midshipman's ear.

"Massa Huggin come while Massa Allen fas' 'sleep and take um right away."

"Hah!" cried Murray. "But how, my lad, how?"

The black looked from one officer to the other, a smile of cunning overspreading his features, and he whispered—

"Caesar show Bri'sh officer. Caesar know."



CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.

BLACK CAESAR.

Murray made a dash at the black and caught him by the arm, while Tom May sprang to the other side, for, startled by the sudden movement of the midshipman, the poor fellow winced and looked as if about to run.

"No, no," cried Murray; "it's all right, Caesar. Show us directly where Mr Allen is."

"Yes," whispered the man; "but no tell Massa Huggin. Him kill Caesar for sure. Caesar very frighten."

"You shan't be hurt, boy," cried the middy. "Now then; lead us to where Mr Allen is. Quick!"

The black nodded his head, gave a sharp glance round, and then with trembling hand caught hold of Murray's wrist and led him into the hall again, closely followed by the lieutenant and Tom May, who was as watchful as if he felt sure that their guide was bent upon making his escape.

"Shall I follow with some of the men, sir?" said Roberts, who was in a state of fret from the fear of missing anything that was about to take place.

"No, it is not necessary," said Mr Anderson.

"I beg pardon, sir," cried Murray; "from what this black fellow has said, I think you ought to have some of the men with us."

"Oh, very well, then," cried the lieutenant, "bring half-a-dozen of the lads with you, Mr Roberts;" and the hall had a very business-like aspect as, to Murray's great disgust, Caesar led him into the study.

"Why, what are you doing, man?" he cried. "Mr Allen is not in here. I've searched the place three times."

The black looked up at him quickly and showed his teeth; but it was in no grin of cunning, for the poor fellow's face looked muddy and strange.

"Caesar know," he whispered hoarsely, and the midshipman felt the fingers which gripped his wrist twitch and jerk as he was pulled towards the corner of the room just beyond the window.

Here the black stopped short, trembling violently, and pointed downward, before darting back, loosening Murray's wrist and making for the door.

"Stop him, Roberts," cried Murray; but his words were needless, for the way of exit was completely blocked by the midshipman and his men.

"What does he mean by all this?" said Mr Anderson angrily.

"I don't quite know, sir," cried Murray; but he followed and caught the black by the arm. "Come," he continued; "show us where Mr Allen is."

"Caesar berry frighten', massa," whispered the poor fellow, whose teeth were chattering; but he yielded to Murray's hand and followed him back towards the corner of the little room, where his eyes assumed a fixed and staring look as he leaned forward and pointed downward at the thick rug of fur which covered that part of the floor.

"What does he mean?" cried the lieutenant. "Is the planter buried there?"

"Show us what you mean," cried Murray, and he tried to draw the black forward; but the poor fellow dropped upon his knees, resisting with all his might, and, with eyes starting and rolling and teeth chattering, he kept on pointing downward, darting his index finger at the floor.

"I beg pardon, sir," said Tom May gruffly. "I think I know what he means."

"What is it, then?" cried Murray.

"It's snakes, sir, same as I heered up-stairs."

"Perhaps so," said the lieutenant, "so take care; some of these serpents creep into the houses here, and they are very poisonous. Mind what you are about, Mr Murray. Let the black pull the rug away. Mr Roberts, a couple of your men here with cutlasses. Be smart, my lads, and strike the moment the brute is uncovered."

"Ay, ay, sir!" came in a chorus from the guard; but every Jack stood fast, waiting for his fellows to volunteer.

"Pull the rug away, Caesar," said Murray, as soon as the men had been ordered to advance, which they did after making a great show of spitting in their hands to get a good grip of the cutlasses they drew.

"No, no, no, massa. Caesar 'fraid, sah. Massa Huggin kill poor Caesar dead, for show."

"Is there a snake there, darkie?" said the lieutenant impatiently.

"No, massa. No, massa," panted the poor fellow. "Caesar brave boy; no frighten snake. Massa Huggin kill um for show."

"What does he mean? Master Huggin will make a show of him?"

"No, sir," cried Murray. "He's afraid of being murdered for showing the way. I have it, sir," he said now excitedly. "That explains everything. There's a way out here;" and stooping down the middy seized one corner of the rug, gave it a sharp jerk, and laid bare what seemed to be a trap-door neatly made in the polished floor.

A murmur of excitement ran through the room, and Murray exclaimed—

"Then the poor fellow has been killed, Tom."

"And buried, sir, seemingly," growled the sailor; and without waiting for orders, he went down on one knee to raise the broad square flap, while the black shrank a little more away where he knelt, and began rubbing his hands together excitedly.

"Well, my lad," cried Mr Anderson, "be smart! You're not afraid, are you?"

"Not a bit, sir," growled the big sailor; "but there seems to be some sort o' dodgery over this here hatchway. You see, there arn't no ring-bolt."

"Take your cutlass to it, Tom," said Murray; and as he spoke he drew his dirk.

"Ay, ay, sir; that'll do it," replied the sailor, and directly after the middy and he began to force in the edges of their blades so as to try and prise open the trap.

"Come, come, come," cried the lieutenant, "don't bungle like that;" and he drew his sword. "Let me try."

Murray made way, and the officer began to try and force in the edge of his service blade.

"Humph! Dear me!" he muttered. "The floor is made of mahogany. Very hard wood. Not so easy as I thought, May, my lad."

A broad smile covered the big sailor's countenance as he watched his officer's failure.

"Ay, ay, sir!" he growled. "Beg pardon, sir; you'll be breaking your sword."

"Yes, my lad, and I don't want to do that," said the lieutenant. "Here, hallo! What do you mean by that? Look here, Mr Murray; your nigger is trying to tell you how to do it. He knows all about it. Let him try."

For, as if recovering somewhat from his abject dread, the black knelt and shuffled about as if longing to perform the task himself.

"Yes, sir, that's it," said the midshipman eagerly. "Now then, Caesar, show us how it's done."

But this only made the black shrink away more and more, and begin shaking his head violently and resuming the pointing as before.

"Here, he must be made to show how it is done," cried the lieutenant impatiently. "We cannot waste time like this."

"I think I can manage now, sir," said Murray, for just then the black caught hold of his hand, slipped his own up the lad's wrist, and pressed him to one side of the square trap that refused to open.

The rest was plain, for it soon became clear that, though the black was afraid to do anything towards opening the trap himself, he was quite ready to use the hands of another party for the purpose.

"Oh, that's it, is it, Caesar?" cried Murray, who now submitted himself entirely to the slave's direction and let him press his hands down with a thrusting movement upon one of the floor-boards, with the result that the square trap glided away smoothly as if running upon rollers, while a dark opening appeared, showing a flight of ladder stairs running down into what seemed to be total darkness.

"A subterranean passage leading somewhere or another."

"It is the way out by which Mr Allen went," said Murray excitedly.

"Escaped, you mean," cried the lieutenant.

"Perhaps so, sir; but mayn't it be that he has been taken away by his enemies?" suggested Murray.

"Well, that we have to see," replied the lieutenant.

"Look here, Caesar," said Murray, addressing the black, "has Mr Allen gone this way?"

The black took a step or two towards the opening, listened, looked round cautiously, and then took hold of the lad's arm and drew him away, to whisper in his ear—

"Massa Huggin come and fesh him away."

"Then you think this Master Huggins is down there?"

The black nodded his head quickly and then pointed to the sailors, ran first to one and then to another and touched their swords and the muskets they carried, before pointing downward to the concealed flight of steps.

"I can understand that, Mr Murray," said the lieutenant. "He wants us to go down armed and follow the steps to where they lead; but we must have lights. Humph!" he added. "The fellow understands English well enough."

For the black darted to a corner closet, opened the door, and took out a bottle, a box and a silver candlestick which stood all ready, a wax taper which the black placed upon the side-table, and then, as cleverly as if he had seen it done scores of times, he took the stopper out of the little bottle, from which a strong odour of phosphorus arose, took a match from the box, and thrust it into the bottle, with the result that he brought it out burning, after the fashion of our fathers' time before the invention of lucifer matches and congreve lights—a fashion adopted when a letter had been written and the writer, who knew not adhesive envelopes and desired to seal his missive, made use of the phosphorus bottle instead of producing a light with a flint and steel.

"Well done," said the lieutenant. "Now then, are you going to light the way?"

The black shook his head and shrank away once more.

"We're to do it ourselves, it seems, Mr Murray;" and the lieutenant drew his sword. "I'll trouble you to light me, sir, for I must lead the way. Come, Mr Roberts, you can lead the men, and you will keep close up. Draw—no, no, leave that dress ornament in its scabbard. You too, Mr Murray. Take two of the men's cutlasses, and they can use their muskets. Here, darkie, are you coming too?"

"Yes, Massa buccra officer. Caesar come show the way. You no let Massa Huggin kill poor niggah?"

"That I promise you, my good fellow," said the lieutenant. "Now, Mr Murray, forward, please."

To the surprise of all present the black stepped quickly to the top of the stairs, and kneeling down thrust his head over and seemed to listen attentively before placing a hand upon the floor upon either side of the opening and lowering himself down.

"Massa come along quick. Nobody here."

"How's that?" cried Murray. "Isn't Mr Allen there?"

"No, massa. Him gone along Massa Huggin—take him right away, so him no tell Bri'sh officer where all de slabes hid ashore, and whar to fine de slaber ship."

"Light is beginning to dawn into my benighted intellect now, Mr Murray," said the lieutenant, following the midshipman, as, carefully sheltering the little taper from the damp wind which seemed to blow up from the hole in the floor, the lad stepped down quickly after the black. "And it seems to me, for your comfort, my lad, that you need not be in the slightest degree alarmed at the prospect of facing the captain and being called to account for the loss of your prisoner, for your loss is going to turn out a great gain. Here, follow close up with the men, Mr Roberts. No, not next; I'll have May behind me; he's big and strong, and he's something to depend upon if we have a sudden attack."

Roberts winced and frowned, for he felt as if his dignity had been a little touched at being put aside to make way for the big sailor, and in addition the chief officer had spoken in a way which made matters take a different turn from what he had expected.

If any one had asserted that he was a bit jealous and envious of his brother middy he would have denied it with indignation, but all the same there was a something near akin to envy somewhere in his breast, and he would have liked it a great deal better if he had been called upon to play several of the parts which somehow would fall to Murray's share.

So Dick Roberts frowned as he grasped the clumsy cutlass that had been handed to him by one of the men, and then after four of the party had received orders to mount guard at the entrance to the subterranean way, he followed closely upon Tom May's bulky form, ready to help protect those who had gone before; and grasping his weapon very tightly he stood at last at the foot of the stairs in a well-paved arched way just lit faintly by the wax taper, and was able to see that the passage was composed of the lava which had been quarried from one of the volcanic masses thrown from a burning mountain ages before.

"Keep together, my lads, close up," said the lieutenant; and his voice sounded whispering and strange as it seemed to reverberate down a passage, and finally died away.

"Where does this lead to, I wonder?" said the midshipman softly, and the walls repeated "I wonder" in a tone that sounded loud.



CHAPTER THIRTY SIX.

"BERRY MUCH 'FRAID."

Julius Caesar, after getting over his first fear of the white strangers and a natural dread of the fierce American slaver, whose threats seemed to dominate his life, threw himself bravely into the enterprise upon which he was engaged and proved himself to be an admirable guide, one too with a full knowledge of the risks he ran. He grew more and more confident now of the strength to protect him of the man-o'-war's men, and every now and then, as the party continued its way along what proved to be a carefully constructed tunnel, he stopped short and whispered to Murray to shade the light while he hurried on into the pitchy darkness.

The first time he did this, after laying his black arm across both Murray's and the lieutenant's breasts, he seemed to be so long gone that the latter expressed it as his belief that he had tricked them and escaped; but this opinion had hardly been whispered in the middy's ear before there was a faint rustling as of bare feet heard, and then, breathing hard, the black was close upon them.

"Come 'long now, massa," he said. "Show light now."

Thrice more this was repeated, and then all at once upon their guide's return he exclaimed—

"Massa put out light now."

"What for?" said Murray sharply.

"Candle burn all away sure. Wantum go back. All dark."

"But how are you going to light it?" said Mr Anderson.

"July Caesar got lilly bottle o' fire; massa Allen lilly bottle, sah."

"But we can't see in the darkness," said Murray.

"Take hol' hand. Caesar show way. See with one hand run along top wall."

Setting aside the seeing, the black soon proved to those who followed him that he could feel his way along the rest of the distance, during which it was quite dark; and he hurried his followers along till the black gloom gradually became twilight, and that increased in power till it became possible to follow the dimly seen figure which went on in front. Then the twilight became a pale green, which grew brighter and brighter till all at once the black stopped short and whispered—

"No make noise. Caesar go first and see Massa Huggin gone take Massa Allen 'way."

The party stopped and saw the black hurry on for a few dozen yards, and then disappear through what seemed to be a clump of bushes, which pretty well blocked up the end of the passage.

"I should like to know what's going to be the end of this," said the lieutenant; "but I suppose we must go on with it now and trust the black, for he seems to be proving himself honest. What do you say, Mr Murray?"

"I feel sure he is," replied the midshipman.

"But his motive? We are almost complete strangers."

"I think he is a faithful servant of the planter, sir, and wants us to save him from danger."

"Yes, that's how it suggests itself to me, Mr Murray, though I can hardly understand such conduct on the part of one of these wretched ill-used slaves towards the oppressor. But there, we shall see."

He ceased speaking, for just then the black seemed to spring through the bushes, and joined them where they were waiting in the tunnel.

"Find Massa Allen," said the black, in a quick excited whisper.

"Ah!" cried Murray joyfully, for somehow—he could not have said why—he had begun to feel the greatest interest in the sick man. "Ah! Where did you find him?"

"Massa Huggin got um."

"But where is he?"

The black pointed in the direction from whence he had returned, evidently indicating the forest which closed in the end of the tunnel.

"What is he going to do with him?" asked Mr Anderson—"Keep him a prisoner?"

"Kill um," said the black abruptly. "Come! Caesar show um;" and he caught hold of the middy's arm, gave it a tug, and then signed to the others to follow.

"Yes," said the lieutenant sharply; "it seems to me quite time we had a word to say about that. Let him lead on, Mr Murray. I want to have a few more words with our friend Mr Huggins. We must show him that there is a difference of opinion upon this question. Here, you darkie, does Mr Huggins indulge himself much in this kind of sport?"

The black, who was moving off sharply, stopped short, dropped his lower jaw to his breast, and stared vacantly at the speaker.

"What buccra sailor officer say?" he whispered.

"Don't speak in that way," said the lieutenant sharply. "Why don't you speak aloud?"

"Caesar berry much 'fraid massa Huggins hear um. Den kill poor niggah."

"That means, then, that Master Huggins does kill people sometimes?"

"Yes, massa often kill pore niggah when cross."

"Well, look here, my lad; don't you be very much afraid. I want you to show us all you can, for he is not going to kill our friend Master Allen."

"Massa Allen friend," said the black, nodding his head sharply. "Massa Allen kill pore niggah? No, nebber. Come 'long."

The man led the way, holding tightly by the middy's arm, and as soon as he had passed out of the tunnel, plunged into the dense forest, and threading his way among the trees, followed by the party, whose countenances were glowing with excitement, he carefully avoided every patch of earth which threatened to yield to the pressure of footsteps. This he kept on for over half-an-hour, when he stopped short and, bending down nearly double, pointed to where, instead of being firm, the way he had selected had suddenly become boggy, mossy, and of a rich green.

"Young officer, look dah," he whispered. "No speak loud. Massa Huggin men hear um."

"Well," said Murray, "I am looking dah, sir, but there is nothing to see."

"No see? Caesar see. Massa Huggin men come 'long. Carry Massa Allen, make men foot go down soft. Make mark."

"Perhaps so," said Murray, "but I can see nothing."

"Let him lead on, Mr Murray," said the lieutenant. "I want to get to business."

"Caesar show," whispered the man, and now, walking half doubled and with his hands hanging down, he broke into a trot, closely followed by the party, for another few hundred yards, before stopping short so suddenly that those who followed were on the point of over-running him.

"Massa officer look now," whispered the black. "Massa no say can't see now."

"No: I can see now," said Murray. "Look here, sir," he whispered, imitating the cautious utterance of the black, as the lieutenant closed up to him.

"Yes," said the officer eagerly; "this is real trail. So many seals impressed in the soft boggy soil; all leading off yonder in a fresh direction after evidently making a halt here. You can make it out, Mr Murray, eh?"

"I can make out the footsteps, sir," replied the lad, "but I can't say I understand them."

"Oh no, of course not," said the lieutenant, "but I suppose our black friend here can. Tell us all about it, what's your name—Caesar?"

"Yes, massa," said the black promptly; and he began eagerly to point out the various impressions in the earth, carefully keeping on one side and nearly touching the ground as he bent down.

"Dose niggah foots," he whispered, picking out carefully the trails of four pairs of footsteps which had passed to where they stood, evidently coming to an end. "Yes, sah; dose niggah foots. Carry Massa Allen. All 'tick down deep in de mud."

"Ah, to be sure!" cried Murray. "I see."

"Dey get tire' carry Massa Allen long way. No, Caesar t'ink Massa Allen say he walk bit now, and jump down. Dose Massa Allen foots. Got shoe on. Massa officer see?"

"To be sure he does, darkie. Well done! You see, Mr Murray?"

"Oh yes, sir; I can see now he shows me."

"Yes; young buccra officer see Massa Allen shoe 'tick down in de mud. Dose black niggah foots," continued the black, pointing.

"How do you know they are black footsteps?" asked Murray.

"All a toes 'tick out wide," replied the man promptly; and he raised one of his own feet with the toes spreading widely, stepped to a soft patch of green-covered mud, and pressed his foot down and raised it again. "Dah," he continued; "Massa buccra see? Dat black niggah foots, and dat are white man foot. Look toopid all queezum up in hard boot. Dat Massa Huggin foots."

"Ah!" cried the lieutenant eagerly. "How do you know, darkie?"

"Massa Huggin put foots in big hard boot. Caesar know um—kick Caesar. 'Get outah way, black dog!' he say."

As he spoke the black went through something of a pantomime so perfectly that the lieutenant and Roberts burst out laughing. Murray's countenance remained unchanged, and he met the black's eyes gravely, and noted their fierce aspect as his brow wrinkled up and his thick, fleshy, protuberant lips were drawn away from the beautifully perfect white teeth.

"Hurt pore black niggah, massa," he said, rather piteously. "Kill some niggah. Massa Huggin sabage. Pore niggah die dead. Hurt Caesar sometime. Wouldn't die."