“Well,” said the captain, “I will trust you, but you understand that you are offering to serve me at the peril of your life?”
“It is at the peril of my life I am offering to help you, sir. Ezekiel Huggins will not scruple about shooting me like a dog as soon as he finds that I am actively helping you.”
“Then I must place you under my protection.”
“If you please,” said the planter gravely. “Your officer here will give me the credit of being upon your side from the first.”
“Yes,” said Mr Anderson; “I do that.”
“Then I will go back home at once,” said the planter, “and I shall look to you as a friend. It would be best if you sent a boat and men to lie up in the little river. When will you land?”
“At once,” said the captain, and he walked slowly to the gangway with his visitor, saw him into his boat, where, in quite man-o’-war fashion, the black crew sat with oars erect, ready to lower them with a splash and row off for a few dozen yards, and then rest while the first cutter was lowered again with a well-armed crew, including a couple of marines.
“You will take command, Mr Murray,” said the captain, “and take note of everything, being well on your guard. I trust to your discretion.”
Murray listened, conscious the while that Roberts was looking on scowling blackly.
“In four hours you will be relieved.”