"He is better; in fact, he was about well when I left him," replied the practitioner. "But I have no more time to waste," added he, as he quickened his pace, moving in the direction of the shore.
The day was beginning to break in the east, and he was afraid the commander of the Bronx would become uneasy in regard to him. The quarters of the soldiers were passed, though they were not in use, and the shore reached. The lieutenant thanked the guide for the service he had rendered, and told him he could go back to his cabin, and finish his night's sleep.
"No, sar; see you frou, Massa Gumboat," replied Job.
"Do you wish to leave this place, Uncle Job?" asked the officer.
"No, sar; I want to be free, but I'm not gwine away, I want to see de gumboat."
"You shall see it, and go on board of it if you wish; but we may have a battle with the fort."
"Don't care for de fight, sar; Job isn't 'feered o' noffin'."
It was less than halt a mile to the cutter, and they soon reached it. The Russian was standing on the shore, and most of the men were asleep on the thwarts, though Vincent was wide awake. Mike recognized the form of the old negro, and reported that the lieutenant was coming.
"Now burn your roman candle, and let us get off as soon as possible," said Mr. Pennant. "Bowman, help this man to a seat in the stern sheets;" and he assisted Uncle Job to get in himself.
The men passed him along over the thwarts, and seated him in the stern. Vincent burned the red candle himself, and it cast a fiery glare over the scene, which must have astonished the occupants of the fort if they saw it. As soon as it had burned out, the quartermaster leaped over the stem of the cutter, and made his way to the stern, where he jumped over the backboard, and took his place at the tiller ropes. The cutter was backed off the ground, and out into the deeper water.