“Why not you, Tom? You seem to know their ways better than I do.”
“Nay, sir, you try. See how he’s watching of us, sir; he’s trying to make out what we want him for, and he knows a lot of plain English. You try him, sir.”
“What shall I say, Tom?”
“Oh, anything you like, sir. You’re cleverer than I am, sir. Here, I know—tell him you want the other chaps to man the boat. They’ll come fast enough if he calls ’em.”
“Here goes, then, Tom; but I don’t believe I shall do any good.—Here, Sambo!” he cried.
The man showed his glistening white teeth in a very broad grin and shook his head.
“Not Sambo?” said Murray. “Well, then, what is your name?”
“Caesar, sah—July Caesar.”
“Well, Caesar, then. I want your master, Mr Allen.”
“In de house, sah. De lilly house;” and the black pointed in the direction of the cottage. “Sick, bad, sah.”