“Ah beliebe Ah ’stinctly tol’ you mah name is Thomas Jefferson Jackson Jones. Yo’ll kindly deflane from callin’ me Sambo, sah.”
“All right, Thomas,” laughed Dick. “I see you’re very sensitive. I have no desire to hurt your tender feelings. Instead of that, I feel very friendly toward you. After you have lighted those lamps you can make five dollars by taking a boat and setting me ashore.”
“Ah ain’t s’posed to leabe dis vessel, sah,” said the colored man, “but if Ah saw a five-dollar bill a-comin’ mah way, Ah might be injewsed to leave it fo’ a short time.”
The boy brought out some money, and finally succeeded in peeling a dripping five-dollar bill from the small roll.
“It’s the real stuff, Thomas,” he said. “If you give me your word that you’ll set me ashore, and say nothing about it, the money is yours.”
“Mah word is jes’ as good as mah bond,” chuckled the negro, “and dey ain’t either one wuth a tinker’s rap. Yah! yah! yah! But when Ah see a five-dollar William comin’ mah way, Ah’s ready fo’ almos’ anything. Yo’ hol’ up, maan, till Ah gets dem lamps lighted. Ah’ll be wif yer in jes’ about two seconds.”
Made secure by a painter, a boat lay floating under the stern of the vessel. When the colored man had set the lamp he returned and drew this boat up on the port side of the vessel and dropped into it along with Merriwell. It was now dark, so Dick was not recognized by any of the searchers, and therefore his plan of deception was carried through successfully.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
THE GHOSTLY FACE.
“’St, Brad!”
The Texan stopped in his tracks as a dark figure stepped out before him. Brad had just left the pier, having told Lynch, Ditson, and Du Boise what he thought of them and what he meant to do.