To make a quick passage was the great desire of all on board the schooner from various motives, the most prominent of which was to break the fetters of Peterson at the earliest opportunity; but they also burned to show themselves equal to the occasion, and justify the expectations formed of them, well aware that the attention of the whole community, and those whom they loved best, was fixed upon them. Time was also precious, us they could not tell how much time might be occupied in the search and rescue at Martinique, and it was of the greatest importance to get away from there before the hurricane months.

With new rigging and masts, new sails, and plenty of them, a clean bottom, and a wholesale breeze, the gallant little craft, that had been employed on so many errands of mercy, and with which so many pleasant associations were connected, nobly seconded the eager wishes of her young navigators, and sustained her previous reputation.

"Don't them 'ere sails set like a board, and don't she travel, the jade?" shouted Dick, in ecstasy, as Agamenticus grew dim in the distance, and the stars came out one by one; "we shall have to heave to for the wind. That's the time o' day, shipmate," he cried, as a rooster, sticking his head between the slats of a coop, uttered a shrill note of defiance. "Doctor" (cook), "don't kill that chap. We'll keep him to crow when we get the nigger."

It was the intention of Captain Rhines to have taken one of Peterson's boys for cook; but Ben was in the Casco, with Isaac Murch, and the boy next in age had sailed for Berbice, in a Kennebunk ship, the day before Captain Rhines returned from Boston. They, therefore, shipped a black, who, like Peterson, had been a slave, and was formerly owned by Henry Merrithew's father. His name being Neptune, they called him Nep for short.

Captain Griffin (though, for convenience, we shall continue to call him Walter) and Dick were in one watch, Mr. Gates (little Ned) and Sewall Lancaster in the other. It was not a very aristocratic arrangement; for the captain and mate worked ship, and took their tricks at the helm, although Dick and Sewall were very particular in addressing them by their titles; and, when the captain was on deck, Ned was as scrupulous about taking the weather-side of the quarter-deck as though he had been aboard the largest ship.

At daybreak of the ninth day, they made Mount Pelee in the distance, and soon after sighted the north-western part of Martinique, and saw a big rock, and a flat point, with a plantation on it.

"This," said Lancaster, "is Point Precheur, and the rock Pearl Rock."

It was not long before they made the white awnings of the vessels in the harbor of St. Pierre, the principal commercial port of Martinique. This island belongs to France, is about thirty-five miles long, and of irregular shape, rocky, somewhat mountainous, abounding in intricate coves and creeks of difficult navigation, but affording excellent sheltered harbors for vessels both of large and small burdens. The soil is fertile, and water abundant; the population ninety-nine thousand, of whom seventy-eight thousand are negroes. It is subject to earthquakes and hurricanes at certain seasons of the year.

Captain Rhines had given Walter particular directions about taking care of the vessel at St. Pierre, which is an open roadstead. The town is built on the side of a hill which falls off towards the water, forming a circular beach. The shore being bold, vessels moor head and stern, with anchors carried out to the south-east and north-west. Lumber is rafted to the eastern portion of the harbor, where the water is shoaler, and merchandise from the shore is brought off in launches. For special reasons, the boys were in no haste to sell, and went ashore to look at the place.

The town presented a singular appearance, being built in such a manner upon the declivity of the hill, that from the vessel you saw a good part of one house over the roof of the one in front, while steeper hills behind seemed to overhang the houses.

The roofs of their houses were covered with tiles, which excited Walter's curiosity to see how they were made, as he was always interested in everything of a mechanical nature. So he clambered up on to the roofs, and found the tiles were of two kinds: some were shaped like a gouge, or half of an earthen pot. A row of these were laid, hollow side up, the length of the roof, and two or three inches apart, to economize stock; then others laid hollow side down to cover the space between the others, and direct the water into the hollow of those first laid; and so on, till the roof was covered.

Multitudes of bats find a lodgment under the tiles covering the joints, and come out as twilight comes on.

Other tiles were made the shape of the letter S, the extremity of one lapping the hollow of the other. These tiles were made of strong, coarse pottery, of different colors, red predominating, and were laid in mortar.

The houses of the negroes and the poorer class of whites were merely four bamboo posts, stuck in the earth, the walls formed of wicker-work, and plastered with mud, and the roofs thatched with cane leaves.

There had been a rain the day before, and the water was running in streams from the hills, in paved gutters, through the middle of the streets. The next morning presented a curious spectacle. It seemed as though the entire population had been seized with a desire to wash. Negro nurses were bringing children of all ages and colors down to the beach, and washing them; infants in arms, and those who could just go alone; while men were washing horses, asses, and mules. Hosts of boys, black, white, and mulatto, were swimming with a facility and grace quite wonderful. Whenever they could obtain permission, they would dive from the masts, and even top-gallant-yards, of the vessels, in some seventy feet in height, going down feet foremost, with their hands close to their sides.

Going to the market, the boys witnessed a singular sight. The market-men were not allowed to kill any animal before five o'clock in the afternoon, nor sell any fresh meat after ten in the morning. Whatever was left at that time they were obliged to rub with salt, and dry in the shade. Near to a butcher's stall a bullock was tied. The butcher, finding he was likely to fall short of meat that morning, runs out, and thrusts a sharp-pointed knife into the marrow of the bullock's neck, just back of the horns. The creature dropped in a moment.

The butcher and his assistants instantly began to skin him, cutting the flesh from the ribs, thighs, and brisket as fast as they skinned, and selling it hot from the bones, the skin and flesh being stripped from the bones before the entrails were removed. Then the bones were cut up in short pieces, tied in little bunches, and sold for a few sous, or a bit (twelve cents), to poor people, for soups. All sorts of coin were current there.

Walter went to the market to buy some fruit; there were twenty-five cents in change due him, and the negro gave him a triangular piece of silver.

"What is this?" asked Walter.

"Makkatena," replied the black; "he be two bit."

Upon examination, he found a Spanish dollar had been cut into four equal parts, and, upon inquiry, ascertained that one way they procured small change was to cut dollars, half dollars, and quarters into four pieces, which they called "makkatena."

"Sewall," said Walter, when he returned on board the vessel, "the story, at first, was, that Peterson fell between the vessel and the wharf. I don't see a wharf here."

"They sold their lumber to the government, and there was a breastwork belonging to them. Joe Elwell said it was torn to pieces by the sea. Nothing of that kind will stand here after the middle of July, when the hurricanes come."

They were now surrounded by bumboat-men, wanting to buy vegetables; and the captain, who was much ashore, had several offers for his lumber; but he seemed in no haste to sell; thought he should go round to some of the plantations and small villages along the coast; didn't know but he should go to Precheur, Case Pilote, or Case de Navire; might go to Port Royal. Trinity Bay, or to the plantations near Carvel (Caravelle); meant to try the market; guessed he had the right sort of things; shouldn't wonder at all if he went to Guadaloupe; rather thought he should; guessed that was the best market. In the mean time, he retailed a few hens, some vegetables, and a little butter.

The captain was also very liberal to the blacks, especially to those belonging to launches and drogers, giving them beef and biscuit, which they carried off in the top of their high-crowned hats. The whole ship's company were very sociable, particularly with the free negroes. The result of this was, that the vessel was thronged with negroes. One old black, a bumboat-man, terribly pock-marked, and his wool white with age, was very intimate with Nep, in consequence of which he got many a fritter and cup of coffee, and bought the cook's slush.

He also did a great many errands for the captain, was half the time on board the vessel, and often invited Nep to his house on Sundays. He was constantly telling about going to Point Solomon, where he had a good many negro acquaintances; so Lancaster christened him Solomon, to which name he answered as readily as to his own.

Lion Ben told Walter, the day they sailed, that he might sell the boat, buy some cheap affair that would answer to come home with, and divide the money between himself, Ned, and the crew. Many were the offers he had for this boat: he refused them all.

"Why don't you sell her?" asked Dick Cameron.

"I have good reasons for not doing it," was the reply.

"Solomon," said the captain one afternoon, as the old negro sat on the heel of the bowsprit, enjoying a cigar, "how old are you?"

"Golly, massa, dunno. How much be two hunder?"

"As much again as one hundred."

"Den s'pose I be two hunder."

"No, you ain't two hundred, or one hundred. What makes you think you are so old?"

"'Cause eberybody say, when come to de vessel, 'Dere come de old bumboat-man.' I go 'long de street: dey say, 'Dere go ole Quambo.' Eberybody gone I knowed; cap'ns all dead, vessels all dead, too; one, two, tree massas—all be dead. Last massa, he be sick; he say, 'Gib old Quambo his freedom; he ole nigger, all wear out; only fit eat plantin.' Dat one die; his chillen all die. Ole Quambo live yet, run de bumboat, buy de slush, sell plantin, bananas, eat fish Sunday. Yah, yah, yah! S'pose Gorra mighty forget all about ole Quambo. Yah, yah, yah!"

"How long have you been a bumboat-man?"

"Dunno, massa cap'n. S'pose half hunder year."

"O, pshaw! no, you haven't half of it. Captains that follow this trade don't live long, and perhaps the vessels you used to know are not worn out, but have gone to some other island. Do you board all the vessels that come here?"

"Yes, massa, ebery one. Dey lets me hab de slush. All de cap'n know ole Quambo."

"Do you remember an American vessel, the Casco, that, came here last year?"

"Bery big ship, massa. Nebber so big ship here, only men-o'-war."

"Yes; do you remember her?"

"Yes, massa. Bring great pile o' boards; goberment buy it all. Me hab her slush. Sell many tings to de crew; dey hab plenty ob money."

"Did you know the cook?"

"He black man; bery large; white on his hair. Me buy de slush ob him."

"What was his name?"

"Dunno, massa; old man no 'member. He lose part ob de small finger on de right hand."

"Just so. He was drowned. Do you remember their trying to find him on the bottom?"

"Dat man nebber drowned, massa; he libe now."

"How do you know that?"

"Sometime, when hurricane months come, no vessel. Me go to de houses, sell de candles me buy ob de 'Merican sailors; me go to Pierre Lallemont's house; hear him tell de wife dat man no dead; he sold to de Frenchman on de plantation."

"What Frenchman?"

"Dunno, massa; no 'member."

"Who is Pierre Lallemont?"

"He free nigger; cooper; make much money; hab niggers hisself. Eberybody know Pierre."

"I guess that's a story, Solomon, that somebody got up to hear themselves talk. The captain and crew all said he was drowned. It is likely they knew best."

"S'pose so, massa."

Here ended Walter's questioning of Solomon, who certainly did not resemble his namesake in wisdom. Walter told Nep to give Solomon half a dozen biscuit, and send him ashore. After the old man had been gone a while, he said to Cameron,—

"Dick, take the cook's axe, and stave in the head of that empty water-cask that stands on end abreast the main batch."

"It's a good cask, sir," amazed at the order from so prudent a man as Walter.

"No matter; do as I tell you."

"Obey orders if you break owners," said Dick; and in went the head of the cask.

"Cut the upper hoops off that beef-barrel."

Dick did as he was ordered.

"Take Sewall with you, go ashore, and inquire for a black cooper by the name of Pierre Lallemont, and ask him to come aboard, and put a head in a water-cask, cooper some barrels, and bring the stock to do it with. I want it done aboard."

Walter gave Dick the measure of the head.

"That beats all my going to sea," said Dick, as they pulled ashore—"to stave in the head of a good water-cask, cut the hoops of a new beef-barrel, and then send ashore for a cooper to mend 'em, as high wages as the coopers charge here."

"It's none of our consarn. We don't find the water-casks or pay the cooper."

"I guess Lion Ben would think it was his consarn to let us have the vessel for nothing, and then have water-casks stove up for the fun of the thing. There must be something the matter with his head. I hope the poor lad ain't got a sun-stroke. He was sitting there a long time in the sun, talking with the bumboat-man."

"I reckon his head is well enough," said Sewall. "I wish mine had as much in it."

At noon the boat came back, and, in company, a shore boat, in which was Pierre Lallemont, with his stock and tools, rowed by a negro boy. He was quite a contrast to Solomon, being a strong, tall, intelligent-looking man, pretty well bleached, and in the prime of life. He went to work directly, with his boy, on the water-cask. When the job was finished, Walter took him into the cabin alone, and, after paying him, said to him in French, "Did you do any work for Captain Aldrich, of the Casco, when he was here?"

"Yes, sir; I coopered his molasses."

"He lost his cook here, it is said."

"So I heard at the time."

"Old Quambo, the bumboat-man, told me you said he was kidnapped, and sold to a planter."

"He lies!" replied Pierre, quickly. "I never spoke a word to him about any such thing."

"He never said you did, but that he overheard you tell your wife that man was sold to a planter."

"He's an old fool, and lost what sense he ever had."

"Will one hundred dollars in gold help your recollection?"

This offer made no impression upon the negro.

"Cooper, was you born of free parents, or was you ever a slave?"

"I never was a field-hand, cap'n. I was a slave, but kept about my master, and learned to read, write, and cast accounts, and learned the cooper's trade."

"How did you get your freedom?"

"By working holidays, Sundays, and extra hours, often in the night."

"I know you can tell me what became of that man, if you will. I see it in your face. Now take the matter home to yourself. Suppose, after you had worked hard, obtaining your liberty by many long years of hard toil, and had gone on business to Guadaloupe, leaving wife and children behind; there been seized, and sold into slavery; what would you think of a person of your own color, who, having been a slave, and knowing from experience how bitter that bondage was, would not contribute in so small a degree towards your deliverance as to tell your friends, your wife, your children, where you was. Pierre Lallemont, you are that man."

"Is that all you want me to do, cap'n?"

"Yes, to give such information as may enable me to act."

"If I aid you, and it is known, I am a dead man."

"I don't want you to lift a finger, or commit yourself in any way. All the information I ask you can give me on this spot, where there are no witnesses except the God above us; and I never will breathe a word you utter."

"Put your questions, captain."

"Did Aldrich sell Peterson to Henri Lemaire for two thousand dollars?"

"He did."

"Is he alive?"

"He is."

"Where?"

"On Lemaire's plantation."

"Where is that?"

"On the north-eastern side, at Vauclin. He has plantations at the northern part of the island; but this is his home place, where he lives, and where he keeps the most slaves, and stores the greatest part of his coffee till he sells it."

"What does he put Peterson to doing?"

"Calking. He has so many drogers, there's work enough for him and others all the time."

"Does he treat him well?"

"Yes; feeds him well, and hires him holidays; does all he can to make him contented, for fear he will get away, but locks him up every night. Haven't you obtained information enough?"

"A few more questions. Does he often come to St. Pierre in his droger?"

"Once a fortnight."

"Does he have any particular one for his own use?"

"Yes."

"Is she any different from the rest?"

"She has a white streak, a red bead, and H. L. in her mainsail; the others are all black."

"Here is your money."

"I didn't give you this information for money, cap'n. I've been a slave to Henri Lemaire. If he should find out that any information had gone from me, he would have me assassinated. I have put my life in your hands."

"You may trust in me. I am equally in your power. You can secure yourself and destroy me at any moment by telling him my business here. Have you any objection to inform me of another thing?"

"No, now that we have gone so far."

"How came you by this knowledge?"

"His overseer told me."

"He was a very powerful man; how did they take him?"

"He had to pass through a narrow alley on his way back to the vessel. The overseer and four more stretched a wire across it; he couldn't see the wire in the night, and fell over it. They leaped on him while he was down, handcuffed, gagged him, and put him into a droger. It was nothing uncommon to see Lemaire's overseer taking a runaway slave home, and no one paid any attention to it."

"When will he probably be here again?"

"To-day is Saturday; next Tuesday will be his day."

Walter did not communicate his information to any one, not oven to Ned. In the mean time, they were all very much puzzled to divine why he did not get under way, if he was going from one plantation to another, and not lose any more time.

Sunday night, without giving the source of his information, he told them he had ascertained where Lemaire's plantation was; that he would probably be at St. Pierre the next Tuesday, or thereabouts; and to look sharp for a droger with a white waist, a red bead round her, and H. L. in the middle cloth of her mainsail.

Tuesday afternoon, about three o'clock, Ned, whose curiosity had led him to go to the mast-head, reported that there was a sail in sight, which proved to be the droger they were expecting, followed at different distances by several others, also belonging to Lemaire.

"Mr. Gates," said the captain, "let us take the boat when he gets along, and have a look at him."

They put the sail in the boat, shipped the fancy rudder, which had not been used since they left Pleasant Cove, and started just as the droger came to anchor at a cable's length from the beach.

They were passing the droger, on their way to the beach, while her negro crew were furling the sails. The planter, who was seated on deck, smoking, hailed and invited them to come on board. They gladly accepted an invitation which afforded a personal interview with the very man they were so anxious to see.

Quite contrary to their expectations, they found Henri Lemaire, in appearance at least, an affable, frank, pursy little Frenchman, of about sixty years of age, and very neatly dressed. It was evidently the boat that had attracted his attention; for the first question he asked, after the usual salutations had been exchanged, was, "Will you sell that boat, captain?" instantly adding, with a smile, "Of course you will. Your countrymen will sell anything; for it was in this very harbor that one of your American captains sold all the masts he had for a thousand dollars, and went home with a jury-mast."

Walter did not tell the Frenchman that the captain who did that was one of his schoolmates, but replied, "This is all the boat I have, and she answers my purpose well. I should be loath to part with her."

"What are you loaded with, captain?"

"Frames for small houses, shingles, nails, locks and hinges, spermaceti candles, and knickknacks."

"How large are the frames?"

Walter gave him the dimensions.

"How many have you got?"

"Twenty-five, or thereabouts."

"I think they would be what I should like to store different qualities of coffee in, and for other purposes. I want a house for my overseer. They are not large enough for that."

"Put two of them together."

"What do you ask for them?"

"I haven't fixed any price yet. I don't know as I shall sell here."

"Do you think you can do better at Guadaloupe?"

"I didn't know but I should go up to the northern part of the island, and call at the plantations. My vessel is light draught. I can run into any of the coves and creeks, and barter with the planters."

"What do you want for your lumber?"

"My vessel is small to take sugar or cotton; therefore prefer coffee, indigo, cloves, or cocoa."

"But that boat—of course you'll sell her; you are only holding off for price."

"Well, I don't know. You see yourself, if I go calling round into the creeks, this boat is just what I want, and I could not get along without it."

Walter then invited him to get into her, and take a sail, which he did, and they parted on the best of terms.