“Massa Grow, den, on de big raff?”
“Neither,” responded the sailor. “It’s Ben,—Ben Brace.”
“Golly! you say so, Massa Brace! How you be dar, unless you on de big raff?”
“I’m on a raft of my own. Have you one, Snowball?”
“Ya, massa Ben, ya! I make um out o’ de wreck an de water-cask.”
“Are ye all alone?”
“Not ’zackly dat. The pickaninny be long wi’ me,—de cabing gal. You know de lilly Lalee?”
“Oh! she it be!” muttered Ben, now remembering the little cabin passenger of the Pandora. “You bean’t movin’, be you?”
“No,” responded Snowball, “lying on de water like a log o’ ’hogany wood. Han’t move a mile ebba since de bustin’ ob de powder ball.”
“Keep your place then. We’ve got oars. We’ll row down to you.”