"I mean to take my turn next time," said she, resolutely. "Now, Dan, I will get your supper. Cyd and I ate bread and butter, and drank cold water; but if you are going to sail the boat all night, you will want some tea."
"Thank you, Lily; you are very kind. I will get the tea myself."
"No, you shall not. I am not going to be idle all the time. I mean to do my share of the labor. If it isn't a woman's work to keep watch, it is to get tea; and if you please, I will do it myself."
My young readers will remember that Lily, though a slave girl, was a gentle, delicate creature. She had never done any manual labor. She had simply stood by her young mistress, fanned her when she was warm, brushed away the flies, handed her a book, or other article, when she wanted it, picked up her handkerchief when she dropped it, and assisted at her toilet. If Miss Edith needed any greater exertion of bone and muscle, another person was called to render the service. But she had been about the kitchen and work rooms of the plantation, and having a taste for the various housekeeping operations, she had incidentally acquired some little skill in cooking, needle-work, and other branches of female industry.
Her form was agile and graceful, her organization delicate; and no person, even with a knowledge of her social condition, and rankly imbued with southern prejudices, could have denied that she was beautiful in form and feature. Her complexion was fairer than that of a majority of Anglo-Saxon maidens. Her eye was soft, and sweetly expressive. Such was Lily, the slave girl of Redlawn; and when she talked of performing the drudgery of the Isabel, Dan, with that chivalrous consideration for the gentler sex which characterizes the true gentleman, resented the idea. He preferred to labor day and night, rather than permit her to soil her white hands with the soot of the furnaces.
Lily, as we have seen, had wiser and more sensible ideas on the subject. She had an instinctive contempt for that sort of chivalry, and in spite of the remonstrances of the knightly skipper of the Isabel, she kindled a fire, and with the assistance of Cyd, soon placed the tea and bread and butter upon the cabin table. She then took her place at the head of the board, and "did the honors" with an elegance and grace which would have adorned the breakfast parlor at Redlawn. Though Cyd had been to supper, he accepted the invitation to repeat the operation.
Before the meal was commenced, it was necessary to light the cabin lantern, which swung over the table. Whether there is any exhilaration in a cup of tea or not, the party soon became very cheerful; and Cyd was as chipper as though he were in the midst of the Christmas holidays.
After supper Dan took the bateau, and pulled out to the lake, to reconnoitre the position, and assure himself that there were no obstacles to the departure of the Isabel. When he returned, Lily had washed the dishes and put the cabin in order, thus carrying her point, and establishing herself as mistress in this department. Dan did not deem it prudent to start so early in the evening; but the sails were hoisted, and every thing made ready for the departure.
The wind was light, and the leader of the expedition had some doubts about starting at all that night. The Isabel had made only about twenty miles during the preceding night, with a strong breeze to help her during a portion of the time. He had carefully studied the maps in his possession, and estimated the distances by the scale between the various points. He knew exactly where he intended to go, and a failure to reach the place before daylight would expose him to the risk of being seen from some of the plantations on the banks of the lake.
The responsibility of deciding this important question rested upon him alone. The distance to be accomplished before they could reach another place of security was about twenty-five miles. An average of three miles an hour would enable him to complete the passage by sunrise, and he at last decided to attempt it.