"I'll take care of him," said Ned.
As they must cross his beat directly to reach the boat, the others lay flat upon the ground, while Ned went whistling along.
"Who dere?" cried the sentinel.
Ned, giving his name, walked directly up to him, and they entered into conversation about the holiday. Ned, giving him a cigar, persuaded him to sit down on an old boat and smoke.
The poor darky had drawn but a few whiffs, when he began to nod; for nature was exhausted by the sports of the holiday, want of sleep, and subsequent labor. He fell over upon Ned, who was sitting beside him, and the cigar dropped from his lips. Ned put his arm round the negro, and gently laid him at full length upon the boat. In a few moments he was sound asleep, and Ned ran to join his companions.
At the boat they found Neptune, who, having had his share of the holiday, was asleep on the thwarts.
Swiftly and silently they pulled for the schooner.
"O, you bressed ole craft," said Peterson, kissing the gunwale; "you ole friend, you is; many the good time Peterson had in you."
It was now dead calm, and they were on board a loaded vessel. The prospect was by no means encouraging, for they well knew that, when the absence of Peterson and the departure of the schooner were discovered, a vengeful pursuit would take place.
Peterson, who had been many years a slave on this same island in his youth,—as many of our readers are aware,—and was well acquainted with the peculiarities of the climate, encouraged his shipmates.