Captain Mansfield was standing near the helmsman, watching over the safety of his yacht, when the old darky approached him in the highest state of excitement.
“I’se done gone altered up my mind, captin, an’ carn’ go on dis yere cruise,” Andy cried, forgetting, in his terror, that he had no right to speak to the master of the schooner under such circumstances.
“Hold your tongue and go back to the galley! I’ll listen to you when we are outside.”
“I’se gwine ter be set ashore, sah.”
“You’re going to be thrown overboard, if you don’t stop that noise and get away from here,” was the stern reply, and, fearing present danger rather than that in the future, the steward beat an undignified retreat, but at the same time firmly resolved he would not allow himself to be carried to sea in the Day Dream.
Gil and Nelse had heard the short conversation; but there were so many things to occupy their attention, that they dismissed it for the time being, as something too trivial to require a second thought.
And each moment the Day Dream was drawing nearer and nearer to the entrance of the harbor. The wind was favoring, and Captain Mansfield, true to the instincts which had animated him while in command of a ship, thought only of showing his celerity in leaving port.
Down through the narrows the little craft speeded, leaving behind a wake of silver to show her course, and from there to the lower bay, still holding the wind at its best drawing point, until she was finally bowing and courtesying to the long swell of the Atlantic, while in the galley old Andy remained on his bended knees, praying that stress of weather might force her into some port before reaching Hayti, at which he could make his escape from the terrible dangers which he firmly believed threatened all who should attempt to recover the buried treasure which had been gained only by the shedding of blood.