“It’s of no use,” he said to himself; “the more I think the worse the difficulties seem to grow;” and pulling himself together, he turned sharply upon May.
“Look here, my lad,” he said sharply, “you must find your way up to the plantation and tell Mr Anderson how I am fixed. I can’t leave the boat, for I must hold that in case the enemy comes on; and I can’t spare any one to go with you, for three fellows will be small enough force to beat the enemy back.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” said the sailor promptly.
“You can tell Mr Anderson everything, and then he will settle whether he will hold the plantation house or come here and help us to get back to the sloop.”
“Ay, ay, sir! Start?”
“One moment, Tom. You mustn’t lose your way, but try and recollect the track that black fellow led us; and one word more—this is not a time for fighting, but for cunning. Now, off!”
The man stood for a few moments to thrust the ramrod down his piece and make sure that it was well loaded; then throwing it over his shoulder, he sprang ashore as lightly as if neither his rest nor his regular meals had been interfered with, gained the track, which now seemed plain enough, and disappeared.