With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the American Civil War, Page 3

  CHAPTER III.

  AIDING A RUNAWAY.

  "Well, you are an extraordinary boy, Vincent," Mrs. Wingfield said asher son told her the story, while his sister burst into fits of laughterat the idea of Vincent owning a female slave with a baby. "Why did younot tell me that you wanted the money, instead of going to Mr. Renfrew?I shall tell him I am very angry with him for letting you have it forsuch a purpose."

  "I was not sure whether you would let me have it, mother; and if you hadrefused, and I had got it afterward from Mr. Renfrew, I should not haveliked to bring her home here."

  "That would have been fun," Annie said. "Fancy Vincent's troubles with afemale slave on his hands and nowhere to put her. What would you havedone, Vincent?"

  "I suppose I could have got a home for her somewhere," Vincent saidquietly. "I don't think there would have been any difficulty about that.Still I am glad I didn't have to do so, and one slave more or less canmake no difference here."

  "Not at all," Mrs. Wingfield said; "I dare say Chloe will find somethingfor her to do in the way of washing, and such other light work that sheis fit for about the house. It is not that, but it is years since aslave was brought into the Orangery; never since I can remember. Weraise more than we want ourselves; and when I see all those childrenabout, I wonder sometimes what on earth we are to find for them all todo. Still, it was a scandalous thing of that man Jackson selling thegirl to punish her husband; and, as you say, it was your foolishinterference in the matter that brought it about, so I do not know thatI can blame you for doing what you can to set the matter straight.Still, except that the knowledge that she is here, and will be welltreated, will be a comfort to the man, I do not see that he will be muchbetter off, unless, indeed, the Jacksons should try to sell him also, inwhich case I suppose you will want to buy him."

  "I am afraid they won't do that, mother. Still, somehow or other, intime they may come together again."

  "I don't see how they can, Vincent. However, we need not think of thatnow. At any rate I hope there will be no further opportunity for yourmixing yourself up in this business. You have made two bitter enemiesnow, and although I do not see that such people as these can do you anyharm, it is always well not to make enemies, especially in times likethese when no one can foresee exactly what may occur."

  And so Dinah Moore became an inmate of the Orangery; and though thegirls had laughed at their brother, they were very kind to her when shearrived with Dan, and made much of her and of her baby. The same nightDan went over to the Cedars, and managed to have an interview with Tony,and to tell him that his wife had been bought by Vincent. The joy of thenegro was extreme. The previous message had raised his hopes thatVincent would succeed in getting her bought by someone who would be kindto her, but he knew well that she might nevertheless fall to the lot ofsome higher bidder and be taken hundreds of miles away, and that hemight never again get news of her whereabouts. He had then sufferedterrible anxiety all day, and the relief of learning that Vincenthimself had bought her, and that she was now installed as a houseservant at the Orangery, but a few miles away, was quite overpowering,and for some minutes he could only gasp out his joy and thankfulness. Hecould hope now that when better times came he might be able to stealaway some night and meet her, and that some day or other, though how hecould not see, they might be reunited. The Jacksons remained inignorance that their former slave was located so near to them.

  It was for this reason that Mr. Renfrew had instructed his agent to buyher in his own name instead of that of Vincent; and the Jacksons, havingno idea of the transfer that had subsequently taken place, took nofurther interest in the matter, believing that they had achieved theirobject of torturing Tony, and avenging upon him the humiliation thatAndrew had suffered at Vincent's hands. Had they questioned theirslaves, and had these answered them truly, they would have discoveredthe facts. For although Tony himself said no word to anyone of what hehad learned from Dan, the fact that Dinah was at the Orangery wasspeedily known among the slaves; for the doings at one plantation weresoon conveyed to the negroes on the others by the occasional visitswhich they paid at night to each other's quarters, or to some commonrendezvous far removed from interruption.

  Occasionally Tony and Dinah met. Dan would come up late in the eveningto the house, and a nod to Dinah would be sufficient to send her flyingdown the garden to a clump of shrubs, where he would be waiting for her.At these stolen meetings they were perfectly happy; for Tony said noword to her of the misery of his life--how he was always put to thehardest work and beaten on the smallest pretext, how in fact his lifewas made so unendurable that the idea of running away and taking to theswamps was constantly present to him.

  As to making his way north, it did not enter his mind as possible.Slaves did, indeed, at times succeed in traveling through the NorthernStates and making their way to Canada, but this was only possible bymeans of the organization known as the underground railway, anassociation consisting of a number of good people who devoted themselvesto the purpose, giving shelter to fugitive slaves during the day, andthen passing them on to the next refuge during the night. For in theNorthern States as well as the Southern any negro unprovided with papersshowing that he was a free man was liable to be arrested and sent backto the South a prisoner, large rewards being given to those who arrestedthem.

  As he was returning from one of these interviews with his wife, Tony wasdetected by the overseer, who was strolling about around the slaves'quarters, and was next morning flogged until he became insensible. Soterrible was the punishment that for some days he was unable to walk. Assoon as he could get about he was again set to work, but the followingmorning he was found to be missing. Andrew Jackson at once rode intoRichmond, and in half an hour placards and handbills were printedoffering a reward for his capture. These were not only circulated in theneighborhood, but were sent off to all the towns and villages throughwhich Tony might be expected to pass in the endeavor to make his waynorth. Vincent soon learned from Dan what had taken place.

  "You have no idea, I suppose, Dan, as to which way he is likely to go?"

  Dan shook his head.

  "Me suppose, massa, dat most likely he gone and hidden in de great woodsby the James River. Bery difficult to find him dere."

  "Difficult to find him, no doubt," Vincent agreed. "But he could notstop there long--he would find nothing to eat in the woods; and thoughhe might perhaps support himself for a time on corn or roots from theclearings scattered about through the James Peninsula, he must sooner orlater be caught."

  "Dar are runaways in de woods now, Marse Vincent," Dan said; "some obdem hab been dar for months."

  "But how do they live, Dan?"

  "Well, sar, you see dey hab friends on de plantations; and sometimes atnight one of de slaves will steal away wid a basket ob yams and corncakes and oder things and put dem down in a certain place in de forest,and next morning, sure enough, dey will be gone. Dangerous work, dat,massa; because if dey caught with food, it know for sure dat dey carryit to runaway, and den you know dey pretty well flog the life out ofdem."

  "Yes, I know, Dan; it is a very serious matter hiding a runaway slave,and even a white man would be very heavily punished, and perhapslynched, if caught in the act. Well, make what inquiries you can amongthe slaves, and find out if you can whether any of those Jacksons havean idea which way Tony has gone. But do not go yourself on to Jackson'splace; if you were caught there now it would be an awkward matter forboth of us."

  "I will find out, Marse Vincent; but I don't s'pose Tony said a word toany of the others. He know well enough dat de Jacksons questioneberyone pretty sharp, and perhaps flog dem all round to find out if deyknow anything. He keep it to himself about going away, for suah."

  The Jacksons kept up a vigorous hunt after their slave, and day afterday parties of men ranged through the woods, but without discovering anytraces of him. Bloodhounds were employed the first day, but before thesecould be fetched from Richmond the scent had grown cold; for Tony hadgone off as so
on as the slaves had been shut up for the night, and haddirectly he left the hut wrapped leaves round his feet, therefore thehounds when they arrived from Richmond were unable to take up the scent.

  A week after Tony's escape Vincent returned late one evening from avisit to some friends. Dan, as he took his horse, whispered to him:"Stop a little on your way to house, Marse Vincent; me hab someting totell you."

  "What is it, Dan?" Vincent asked as the lad, after putting up his horsein the stable, came running up to him.

  "Me have seen Tony, sah. He in de shrubs ober dar. He want to see Dinah,but me no take message till me tell you about him. He half starved, sah;me give him some yams."

  "That's right, Dan."

  "He pretty nigh desperate, sah; he say dey hunt him like wild beast."

  "I will see him, Dan. If I can help him in any way I will do so.Unfortunately I do not know any of the people who help to get slavesaway, so I can give him no advice as to the best way to proceed. Still Imight talk it over with him. When I have joined him, do you go up to thehouse and tell Chloe from me to give you a pile of corn cakes--it's nouse giving him flour, for he would be afraid to light a fire to cook it.Tell her to give you, too, any cold meat there may be in the house.Don't tell Dinah her husband is here till we have talked the matterover."

  Dan led Vincent up to a clump of bushes.

  "It am all right, Tony," he said; "here is Massa Vincent come to seeyou."

  The bushes parted and Tony came out into the full moonlight. He lookedhaggard and worn; his clothes were torn into strips by the bushes.

  "My poor fellow," Vincent said kindly, "I am sorry to see you in such astate."

  A great sob broke from the black.

  "De Lord bless you, sah, for your goodness and for saving Dinah from dehands of dose debils! Now she safe wid you and de child, Tony no carebery much what come to him--de sooner he dead de better. He wish dat oneday when dey flog him dey had kill him altogether; den all de trouble atan end. Dey hunt him ebery day with dogs and guns, and soon they catchhim. No can go on much longer like dis. To-day me nearly gib myself up.Den me thought me like to see Dinah once more to say good-by, so makegreat effort and ran a bit furder."

  "I have been thinking whether it would be possible to plan some way foryour escape, Tony."

  The negro shook his head.

  "Dar never escape, sah, but to get to Canada; dat too far, anyway. Notpossible to walk all dat way and get food by the road. Suah to becaught."

  "No, I do not think it will be possible to escape that way, Tony. Theonly possible plan would be to get you on board some ship going toEngland."

  "Ships not dare take negro on board," Tony said. "Me heard dat said manytimes--dat against de law."

  "Yes, I know it's against the law," Vincent said, "and it's against thelaw my talking to you here, Tony; but you see it's done. The difficultyis how to do it. All vessels are searched before they start, and anofficer goes down with them past Fortress Monroe to see that they takeno one on board. Still it is possible. Of course there is risk in thematter; but there is risk in everything. I will think it over. Do notlose heart. Dan will be back directly with enough food to last you forsome days. If I were you I would take refuge this time in White OakSwamp. It is much nearer, and I hear it has already been searched fromend to end, so they are not likely to try again; and if you hear themyou can, if you are pressed, cross the Chickahominy and make downthrough the woods. Do you come again on Saturday evening--that will giveme four days to see what I can do. I may not succeed, you know; for thepenalty is so severe against taking negroes on board that I may not beable to find anyone willing to risk it. But it is worth trying."

  "De Lord bless you, sah!" Tony said. "I will do juss what you tell me;but don't you run no risks for me, my life aint worth dat."

  "I will take care, Tony. And now here comes Dan with the provisions."

  "Can I see Dinah, sah?" Tony pleaded.

  "I think you had better not," Vincent replied. "You see the Jacksonsmight at any moment learn that she is here, and then she might bequestioned whether she had seen you since your escape; and it would bemuch better for her to be able to deny having done so. But you shall seeher next time you come, whether I am able to make any arrangements foryour escape or not. I will let her know to-morrow morning that I haveseen you, and that you are safe at present."

  The next morning Vincent rode over to City Point, where ships with alarge draught of water generally brought up, either transferring theirgoods into smaller craft to be sent up by river to Richmond, or to becarried on by rail through the town of Petersburg. Leaving his horse ata house near the river, he crossed the James in a boat to City Point.There were several vessels lying here, and for some hours he hung aboutthe wharf watching the process of discharging. By the end of that timehe had obtained a view of all the captains, and had watched them as theygave their orders, and had at last come to the conclusion as to whichwould be the most likely to suit his purpose. Having made up his mind,he waited until the one he had fixed upon came ashore. He was a man ofsome five and thirty years old, with a pleasant face and good-naturedsmile. He first went into some offices on the wharf, and half an hourlater came out and walked toward the railway station. Vincent at oncefollowed him, and as he overtook him said:

  "I want very much to speak to you, sir, if you could spare me a minuteor two."

  "Certainly," the sailor said, with some surprise. "The train forPetersburg does not go for another half hour. What can I do for you?"

  "My name is Vincent Wingfield. My father was an English officer, and mymother is the owner of some large estates near Richmond. I am mostanxious to get a person in whom I am interested on board ship, and I donot know how to set about it."

  "There's no difficulty about that," the captain said, smiling; "you haveonly to go to an office and pay for his passage to where he wants togo."

  "I can't do that," Vincent replied; "for unfortunately it is against thelaw for any captain to take him."

  "You mean he is a negro?" the captain asked, stopping short in his walkand looking sharply at Vincent.

  "Yes, that is what I mean," Vincent said. "He is a negro who has beenbrutally ill-treated and has run away from his master, and I wouldwillingly give a hundred pounds to get him safely away."

  "This is a very serious business in which you are meddling, young sir,"the sailor said. "Putting aside the consequences to yourself, you areasking me to break the law and to run the risk of the confiscation of myship. Even if I were willing to do what you propose, it would beimpossible, for the ship will be searched from end to end before thehatches are closed, and an official will be on board until we dischargethe pilot after getting well beyond the mouth of the river."

  "Yes, I know that," Vincent replied; "but my plan was to take a boatand go out beyond the sight of land, and then to put him on board afteryou have got well away."

  "That might be managed, certainly," the captain said. "It would becontrary to my duty to do anything that would risk the property of myemployers; but if when I am out at sea a boat came alongside, and apassenger came on board, it would be another matter. I suppose, younggentleman, that you would not interfere in such a business, and run therisk that you certainly would run if detected, unless you were certainthat this was a deserving case, and that the man has committed no sortof crime; for I would not receive on board my ship a fugitive fromjustice, whether he was black or white."

  "It is indeed a deserving case," Vincent said earnestly. "The poorfellow has the misfortune of belonging to one of the worst masters inthe State. He has been cruelly flogged on many occasions, and wasfinally driven to run away by their selling his wife and child."

  "The brutes!" the sailor said. "How you people can allow such a thing tobe done is a mystery to me. Well, lad, under those circumstances I willagree to do what you ask me, and if your boat comes alongside when I amso far away from land that it cannot be seen, I will take the man toEngland."

  "Thank you very much indeed," Vincent
said; "you will be doing a goodaction. Upon what day do you sail?"

  "I shall drop down on Monday into Hampton Roads, and shall get up sailat daylight next morning. I shall pass Fortress Monroe at about seven inthe morning, and shall sail straight out."

  "And how shall I know your ship?" Vincent asked. "There may be othersstarting just about the same time."

  The sailor thought for a moment. "When I am four or five miles out Iwill hoist my owner's flag at the fore-masthead. It is a red flag with awhite ball, so you will be able to make it out a considerable distanceaway. You must not be less than ten or twelve miles out, for the pilotoften does not leave the ship till she is some miles past FortressMonroe, and the official will not leave the ship till he does. I willkeep a sharp lookout for you, but I cannot lose any time in waiting. Ifyou do not come alongside I shall suppose that you have met with someinterruption to your plans."

  "Thank you very much, sir. Unless something goes wrong I shall bealongside on Tuesday."

  "That's settled," the captain said, "and I must be off, or else I shalllose my train. By the way, when you come alongside do not make any signthat you have met me before. It is just as well that none of my crewshould know that it is a planned thing, for if we ever happen to put inhere again they might blab about it, and it is just as well not to givethem the chance. Good-by, my lad; I hope that all will go well. But, youknow, you are doing a very risky thing; for the assisting a runawayslave to escape is about as serious an offense as you can commit inthese parts. You might shoot half a dozen men and get off scot free, butif you were caught aiding a runaway to escape, there is no saying whatmight come of it."

  After taking leave of the captain, Vincent recrossed the river and rodehome. He had friends whose fathers' estates bordered some on the Jamesand others on the York River, and all of these had pleasure boats. Itwas obviously better to go down the York River, and thence round to themouth of the James at Fortress Monroe, as the traffic on the York wascomparatively small, and it was improbable that he would be noticedeither going down or returning. He had at first thought of hiring afishing boat from some of the free negroes who made their living on theriver. But he finally decided against this; for the fact of the boatbeing absent so long would attract its owner's attention, and in caseany suspicion arose that the fugitive had escaped by water, the hiringof a boat by one who had already befriended the slave and its absencefor so long a time, would be almost certain to cause suspicion to bedirected toward him. He therefore decided upon borrowing a boat from afriend, and next morning rode to the plantation of the father of HarryFurniss, this being in a convenient position on the Pamunky, one of thebranches of the York River.

  "Are you using that sailboat of yours at present, Harry? Because, ifnot, I wish you would let me have the use of it for a week or so."

  "With pleasure, Vincent; and my fishing lines and nets as well, if youlike. We very seldom use the boat. Do you mean to keep it here or moveit higher up the river, where it would be more handy for you, perhaps?"

  "I think I would rather leave it here, Furniss. A mile or two extra toride makes no difference. I suppose it's in the water?"

  "Yes; at the foot of the boathouse stairs. There is a padlock and chain.I will give you the key, so you can go off whenever you like withoutbothering to come up to the house. If you just call in at the stable asyou ride by, one of the boys will go down with you and take your horse,and put him up till you come back again."

  "That will do capitally," Vincent replied. "It is some time since I wason the water, and I seem to have a fancy for a change at present. One issick of riding into Richmond and hearing nothing but politics talked of.Don't be alarmed if you hear at any time that the boat has not come backat night, for if tide and wind are unfavorable at any time, I might stopat Cumberland for the night."

  "I have often had to do that," Furniss said. "Besides, if you took itaway for a week I don't suppose anyone would notice it; for no one goesdown to the boathouse unless to get the boat ready for a trip."

  The next day Vincent rode over to his friend's plantation, sending Danoff an hour beforehand to bale out the boat and get the masts and sailsinto her from the boathouse. The greater part of the next two days wasspent on the water, sometimes sailing, sometimes fishing. The eveningof the second of these days was that upon which Vincent had arranged tomeet Tony again, and an hour after dark he went down through the gardento the stable; for that was the time the fugitive was to meet him, forhe could not leave his place of concealment until night fell. Afterlooking at the horses, and giving some instructions to the negroes incharge, he returned to the shrubbery, and, sending Dan up to summonDinah, he went to the bushes where he had before met Tony. The negrocame out as he approached.

  "How are you, Tony?"

  "Much better dan I was, massa. I have not been disturbed since I sawyou, and, thanks to dat and to de good food and to massa's kind words,I'm stronger and better now, and ready to do whatever massa think best."

  "Well, Tony, I am glad to say that I think I have arranged a plan bywhich you will be got safely out of the country. Of course, it may fail;but there is every hope of success. I have arranged for a boat, andshall take you down the river, and put you on board a ship bound forEngland."

  The black clapped his hands in delight at the news.

  "When you get there you will take another ship out to Canada, and assoon as I learn from you that you are there, and what is your address, Iwill give Dinah her papers of freedom and send her on to you."

  "Oh! massa, it is too much," Tony said, with the tears running down hischeeks; "too much joy altogeder."

  "Well, I hope it will all come right, Tony. Dinah will be here in aminute or two. Do not keep her long, for I do not wish her absence fromthe house to be observed just now. Now, listen to my instructions. Doyou know the plantation of Mr. Furniss, on the Pamunky, near CoalHarbor?"

  "No, sir; but me can find out."

  "No, you can't; because you can't see anyone or ask questions. Verywell, then, you must be here again to-morrow night at the same hour. Danwill meet you here, and act as your guide. He will presently bring youprovisions for to-morrow. Be sure you be careful, Tony, and get back toyour hiding place as soon as you can, and lie very quiet to-morrow untilit is time to start. It would be terrible if you were to be caught now,just as we have arranged for you to get away."

  On the following afternoon Vincent told his mother that he was goingover that evening to his friend Furniss, as an early start was to bemade next morning; they intended to go down the river as far asYorktown, if not further; that he certainly should not be back for twodays, and probably might be even longer.

  "This new boating freak of yours, Vincent, seems to occupy all yourthoughts. I wonder how long it will last."

  "I don't suppose it will last much longer, mother," Vincent said, with alaugh. "Anyhow, it will make a jolly change for a week. One has got sosick of hearing nothing talked about but secession, that a week withouthearing the word mentioned will do one lots of good, and I am sure Ifelt that if one had much more of it, one would be almost driven to takeup the Northern side, just for the sake of a change."

  "We should all disown you, Vin," Annie said, laughing; "we should havenothing to say to you, and you would be cut by all your friends."

  "Well, you see, a week's sailing and fishing will save me from all that,Annie; and I shall be able to begin again with a fresh stock ofpatience."

  "I believe you are only half in earnest in the cause, Vincent," hismother said gravely.

  "I am not, indeed, mother. I quite agree with what you and everyone sayas to the rights of the State of Virginia, and if the North shouldreally try to force us and the other Southern States to remain withthem, I shall be just as ready to do everything I can as anyone else;but I can't see the good of always talking about it, and I think it'svery wrong to ill-treat and abuse those who think the other way. InEngland in the Civil War the people of the towns almost all thought oneway, and almost all those of the counties the
other, and even nowopinions differ almost as widely as to which was right. I hate to hearpeople always laying down the law as if there could not possibly be twosides to the case, and as if everyone who differed from them must be arascal and a traitor. Almost all the fellows I know say that if it comesto fighting they shall go into the State army, and I should be quitewilling, if they would really take fellows of my age for soldiers, toenlist too; but that is no reason why one should not get sick of hearingnothing but one subject talked of for weeks."

  It was nearly dark when Vincent started for his walk of ten miles; forhe had decided not to take his horse with him, as he had no means ofsending it back, and its stay for three days in his friend's stableswould attract attention to the fact of his long absence.

  After about three hours' walking he reached the boathouse, having seenno one as he passed through the plantation. He took the oars and sailsfrom the boathouse and placed them in the boat, and then sat down in thestern to await the coming of the negroes. In an hour they arrived; Tonycarrying a bundle of clothes that Dan had by Vincent's orders bought forhim in Richmond, while Dan carried a large basket of provisions. Vincentgave an exclamation of thankfulness as he saw the two figures appear,for the day having been Sunday, he knew that a good many men would belikely to join the search parties in hopes of having a share in thereward offered for Tony's capture, and he had felt very anxious all day.

  "You sit in the bottom of the boat, Tony, and do you steer, Dan. Youmake such a splashing with your oar that we should be heard a mile away.Keep us close in shore in the shadow of the trees; the less we arenoticed the better at this time of night."

  Taking the sculls, Vincent rowed quietly away. He had often been out onboating excursions with his friends, and had learned to row fairly.During the last two days he had diligently instructed Dan, and aftertwo long days' work the young negro had got over the first difficulties,but he was still clumsy and awkward. Vincent did not exert himself. Heknew he had a long night's row before him, and he paddled quietly alongwith the stream. The boat was a good-sized one, and when not under sailwas generally rowed by two strong negroes accustomed to the work.

  Sometimes for half an hour at a time Vincent ceased rowing, and let theboat drift along quietly. There was no hurry, for he had a day and twonights to get down to the mouth of the river, a distance of some seventymiles, and out to sea, far enough to intercept the vessel. At fouro'clock they arrived at Cumberland, where the Pamunky and MattaponyRivers unite and form the York River. Here they were in tidal waters;and as the tide, though not strong, was flowing up, Vincent tied theboat to the branch of a tree, and lay down in the bottom for an hour'ssleep, telling Dan to wake him when the tide turned, or if he heard anynoise. Day had broken when the boat drifted round, and Dan aroused him.

  The boat was rowed off to the middle of the river, as there could be nolonger any attempt at concealment. Dan now took the bow oar, and theyrowed until a light breeze sprang up. Vincent then put up the mast, and,having hoisted the sail, took his place at the helm, while Dan wentforward into the bow. They passed several fishing boats, and the smokewas seen curling up from the huts in the clearings scattered here andthere along the shore. The sun had now risen, and its heat was pleasantafter the damp night air.

  Although the breeze was light, the boat made fair way with the tide, andwhen the ebb ceased, at about ten o'clock, the mouth of the river wasbut a few miles away. The mast was lowered and the sails stowed. Theboat was then rowed into a little creek and tied up to the bushes. Thebasket of provisions was opened, and a hearty meal enjoyed, Tony beingnow permitted for the first time to sit up in the boat. After the mealVincent and Dan lay down for a long sleep, while Tony, who had sleptsome hours during the night, kept watch.

  At four in the afternoon the tide again slackened, and as soon as it hadfairly turned they pushed out from the creek and again set sail. Inthree hours they were at the mouth of the river. A short distance outthey saw several fishing boats, and dropping anchor a short distanceaway from these, they lowered their sail, and taking the fishing linesfrom the locker of the boat, set to to fish. As soon as it was quitedark the anchor was hauled up, and Vincent and Dan took the oars, thewind having now completely dropped. For some time they rowed steadily,keeping the land in sight on their right hand.

  Tony was most anxious to help, but as he had never had an oar in hishand in his life, Vincent thought that he would do more harm than good.It was, he knew, some ten miles from the mouth of the York River toFortress Monroe, at the entrance to Hampton Roads, and after rowing forthree hours he thought that he could not be far from that point, andtherefore turned the boat's head toward the sea. They rowed until theycould no longer make out the land astern, and then laying on their oarswaited till the morning, Vincent sitting in the stern and often noddingoff to sleep, while the two negroes kept up a constant conversation inthe bow.

  As soon as it was daylight the oars were again got out. They couldclearly make out the outline of the coast, and saw the break in theshore that marked the entrance to Hampton Roads. There was a lightbreeze now, but Vincent would not hoist the sail lest it might attractthe attention of someone on shore. He did not think the boat itselfcould be seen, as they were some eight or nine miles from the land. Theyrowed for a quarter of an hour, when Vincent saw the white sails of aship coming out from the entrance.

  The breeze was so light that she would, he thought, be nearly threehours before she reached the spot where they were now, and whether sheheaded to the right or left of it he would have plenty of time to cuther off. For another two hours he and Dan rowed steadily. The wind hadfreshened a good deal, and the ship was now coming up fast to them. Twoothers had come out after her, but were some miles astern. They hadalready made out that the ship was flying a flag at her masthead, andalthough they had not been able to distinguish its colors, Vincent feltsure that it was the right ship; for he felt certain that the captainwould get up sail as soon as possible, so as to come up with them beforeany other vessels came out. They had somewhat altered their course, toput themselves in line with the vessel. When she was within a distanceof about a mile and a half Vincent was able to make out the flag, andknew that it was the right one.

  "There's the ship, Tony," he said; "it is all right, and in a fewminutes you will be on your way to England."

  Tony had already changed his tattered garments for the suit of sailor'sclothes that Dan had bought for him. Vincent had given him fullinstructions as to the course he was to pursue. The ship was bound forLiverpool; on his arrival there he was at once to go round the docks andtake a passage in the steerage of the next steamer going to Canada.

  "The fare will be about five pounds," he said. "When you get to Canadayou will land at Quebec, and you had better go on by rail to Montreal,where you will, I think, find it easier to get work than at Quebec. Assoon as you get a place you are likely to stop in, get somebody to writefor you to me, giving me your address. Here are a hundred dollars, whichwill be sufficient to pay your expenses to Montreal and leave you aboutfifty dollars to keep you till you can get something to do."