“Caution above everything,” was Blood's last recommendation to him at parting. “Who goes slowly, goes safely, as the Italians have it. And remember that if you betray yourself, you ruin all, for you are the only navigator amongst us, and without you there is no escaping.”
Pitt reassured him, and slunk off back to his own hut and the straw that served him for a bed.
Coming next morning to the wharf, Blood found Dr. Whacker in a generous mood. Having slept on the matter, he was prepared to advance the convict any sum up to thirty pounds that would enable him to acquire a boat capable of taking him away from the settlement. Blood expressed his thanks becomingly, betraying no sign that he saw clearly into the true reason of the other's munificence.
“It's not money I'll require,” said he, “but the boat itself. For who will be selling me a boat and incurring the penalties in Governor Steed's proclamation? Ye'll have read it, no doubt?”
Dr. Whacker's heavy face grew overcast. Thoughtfully he rubbed his chin. “I've read it—yes. And I dare not procure the boat for you. It would be discovered. It must be. And the penalty is a fine of two hundred pounds besides imprisonment. It would ruin me. You'll see that?”
The high hopes in Blood's soul, began to shrink. And the shadow of his despair overcast his face.
“But then...” he faltered. “There is nothing to be done.”
“Nay, nay: things are not so desperate.” Dr. Whacker smiled a little with tight lips. “I've thought of it. You will see that the man who buys the boat must be one of those who goes with you—so that he is not here to answer questions afterwards.”
“But who is to go with me save men in my own case? What I cannot do, they cannot.”
“There are others detained on the island besides slaves. There are several who are here for debt, and would be glad enough to spread their wings. There's a fellow Nuttall, now, who follows the trade of a shipwright, whom I happen to know would welcome such a chance as you might afford him.”