"No, that will do. Take them away."
The overseer faced about and was marching off with the recruits for the three-mile field when his master's voice arrested him.
"Take those two in front on with you, Woodson, and send me back the brown-haired one."
The "brown-haired one" turned as his companions disappeared around a hedge of privet and came slowly back to the steps.
"You wished to speak to me, sir?" he said quietly.
"Yes. You are the man who was tolerably helpful in the squall last night?"
"I was so fortunate as to be of some small service, sir."
"You understand the handling of a boat?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hum. I will tell Woodson to try you with a sloop when the press of work in the fields is past. What is your name?"