The black to whom I took the water looked at me in a frightened way, and shook his head.
“He thinks it is poisoned, Joe,” said the doctor quietly; and I immediately drank some, when the prisoner took the pannikin and drank with avidity, his companions then turning their eager eyes on me.
“It is the feverish thirst produced by injuries,” said the doctor; and as I filled the pannikin again and again, the poor wretches uttered a low sigh of satisfaction.
The schooner lay where we had left it, and all seemed to be very quiet on board, but no movement was made of an offensive nature; and the day glided by till towards sundown, when there was less excitement visible on the shore. Then the captain ordered the boat to be lowered on the side away from the land, while he proceeded to sweep the shore with his glass.
“I think we might land ’em now, doctor,” he said, “and get back without any jobs for you.”
“Yes, they seem pretty quiet now,” said the doctor, who had also been scanning the shore; “but there are a great many people about.”
“They won’t see us,” said the captain. “Now, my blackbirds, I’m not going to clip your wings or pull out your tails. Into the boat with you. I’ll set you ashore.”
For the first time the poor fellows seemed to comprehend that they were to be set at liberty, and for a few minutes their joy knew no bounds; and it was only by running off that I was able to escape from some of their demonstrations of gratitude.
“No, my lad,” said the captain in response to my demand to go with him. “I’ll set the poor chaps ashore, and we shall be quite heavy enough going through the surf. You can take command while I’m gone,” he added, laughing; “and mind no one steals the anchor.”
I felt annoyed at the captain’s bantering tone, but I said nothing; and just at sunset the boat pushed off quietly with its black freight, the poor fellows looking beside themselves with joy.