"Yes, sar; dey's all nigger-hunters."
"I dunno; but I s'peck dey could."
"It would not make much difference whether they could or not. The wind blew a hurricane for a few moments."
"Quin tinks dey must be all dead," replied the man, shaking his head.
"I'm afraid they are; but it was not our fault. If I thought they were, I would not go down the lake any farther," added Dan, musing.
"I feels almost sartin dey's gone to dar reward—'may de good Lo'd hab mercy on dar sinful souls.'"
Dan considered the question for a time in silence, and finally determined to put the boat about, and head her for his destination at the north-westerly corner of the lake. The rain still came down in torrents; but as all on deck were provided with rubber coats, belonging to the boat, which had been provided for the use of the planter and his guests on board, they did not suffer, and were not even very uncomfortable. But if they had been, it would not have been regarded as a serious matter, amid the fierce excitements of that eventful night.
The storm was nothing more than one of those sudden showers which come up so unexpectedly at the south. We once passed through a tornado in Louisiana, which came in a shower that gathered upon a blue sky in less than half an hour. It tore up tall trees as though they had been cornstalks, and rolled up the Mississippi so that it looked like a boiling caldron. In half an hour more the sun was shining gayly on the scene of devastation, as though Nature had no terrors in her laboratory of forces.
In an hour after the exciting scene on the lake, the Isabel had a gentle breeze and fair weather. Cyd still maintained his position on the forecastle, and Lily once more ventured into the standing room. Dan gave her a minute account of the affray with the slave-hunters, and concluded by stating his belief that all three of them had been drowned in the lake.