“Here, Tom,” he said, and glancing down at the man’s bare feet, he added, in a low tone, “You have no shoes on, so just go quietly through the bottom of the building and see what rooms there are and what black servants are about.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” said the man softly.
“Go quietly,” added Murray; “the owner is ill and has dropped asleep.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” replied the sailor, and in regular able-seaman swing upon the points of his toes he stepped out of the hall-like central room of the place, taking in the little armoury the while, and left his officer alone, the door closing behind him as silently as he stepped.
“How still it all is,” thought the middy, and he went cautiously back to the little room which he looked upon as the planter’s study, pressed the door slightly open, and peered in, to see that the occupant had not stirred, while his deep breathing now sounded plainly, till Murray let the door fall to and went back towards that through which Tom May had passed upon his mission.
As the middy approached, it was drawn open again.
“Hallo, Tom!” said the lad. “Back already?”
“Ay, ay, sir! There’s on’y two cabins to look at there, and one’s a cook’s galley, and t’other’s stooard’s pantry.”
“Did you see the black servants?”
“No, sir, and there ain’t no white uns neither.”