The vessel was now nearly loaded. The boys began to consult with the crew in regard to getting Peterson out of the prison, and aboard the vessel. As there were quite a number of watchmen to pass besides Jean, and who were rather more wakeful than that worthy, Dick advised getting them drunk. Sewall favored that plan. Neptune, on the other hand, proposed taking the watchmen with them. He said every one of them would go in a minute for the sake of getting their liberty. But neither Walter nor Ned approved of either of these ways.

"I don't believe in getting persons drunk," said Walter; "nor do I want to steal his negroes."

"Didn't he steal 'em?" said Dick.

"No; he bought 'em."

"Wal," said Sewall, "he bought 'em of those that did steal 'em; and the receiver is as bad as the thief."

"Well, I won't do that," was the reply.

In a few days there would be a double-cross holiday, when the negroes would be frolicking and dancing night and day. It was, therefore, resolved to make the attempt the night after the frolic, when the negroes, being completely tired out, would be sure to sleep soundly on their posts.

Lemaire was notified of the time of sailing, and requested to furnish a pilot to take the vessel out of the creek. Meanwhile, Sewall Lancaster, under pretence of fishing, had sounded the passe, and made himself familiar with the channel; and the vessel was towed out some distance from the wharf, to a place where she was hidden from view by a sharp turn of the creek around a wooded point, and lay at a single anchor.

Walter sold the boat to Lemaire for one hundred and fifteen dollars and another boat, that, for a vessel's use, was worth more than the one he sold, being longer, stronger, and more burdensome, though clumsy and homely. Having ascertained when the vessel was going, the planter said to his overseer,—

"The schooner is going two days after the holiday. They have made a great deal of the servants, and perhaps may take off some of them, or some may stow themselves away. You must keep a good watch the last night they are here."

"The watchmen," said the overseer, "will all be sleepy after the holiday. I will keep watch with my son. They might take some fowl or pigs, if nothing else. They've got an old sailor on board that would steal a man's boots off his feet while he slept."

This arrangement would have interfered most seriously with the designs of the boys, as it was their intention to sail the night before the appointed time, and would probably have frustrated the entire plan. But, the day before the holiday, a planter from Sans-Souci rode over to Vauclin. He had seen the frames, and wanted to make arrangements with Walter to bring him some of the same dimensions, and also frames for a house, sugar mill, and out-buildings, inviting Walter so cordially to come over to his plantation the next morning, offering to send a horse and servant for him, that he consented. The next morning a servant came on horseback, and leading another horse for Walter, who told the crew that he should be back in the evening to start. Walter dearly loved to ride on horseback. Edmund Griffin, his father, owned a vast deal of land, and raised a great many colts. The travelling in those days, in that portion of the country where Walter was reared, being almost exclusively on horseback, he had been early accustomed to horses. Many a spanking gallop he had enjoyed, riding a half-broken colt to pasture, bareback, without shoes or stockings, and clinging with his great toes to the animal's sides, with no better bridle than a rope halter, and a half hitch over the colt's nose.

With a splendid, well-bitted horse under him, riding through wild and beautiful scenery, and amid a vegetation entirely new, he enjoyed the most exquisite pleasure. Uneasy and perplexing thoughts would have flung their sombre shadow over those pleasant scenes, and marred all their beauty, had Walter been aware that the overseer and his son, both strong, resolute men, armed to the teeth, were intending to share the watch that night, and rouse any sleeping darkies by blows on the skull from the butt of a pistol.

In blissful ignorance of impending danger, he surrendered himself to the pleasures of the hour, and enjoyed a most delightful ride, succeeded by a day of equal enjoyment at the hospitable mansion of the planter.

Deliverance came, however, from a quarter whence it was least to be expected, and thus the circumstance which threatened to render the effort abortive, and involved a desperate conflict, proved the very means of its success.

Old Nep had been invited by the negroes to share in the amusements of the holiday, and, arrayed in white pants, waistcoat, and jacket, proceeded to the great house to pay his respects to the ladies in the kitchen. When he arrived old Phil was engaged in a wordy contest with Juan Baptiste. It seems Phil had been whipped at last, for the loss of so many turkeys and pigs, and Juan had been twitting him of it.

"You Guinea nigga youself," retorted Phil. "Nobody sleep more'n youself. Oberseer and Massa Peter gwine to hold watch to-night. You set down on de log, go sleep, see what you git youself; yah, yah."

"How you know dat?"

"Dinah hear massa say so—tell oberseer, kase Yankee vessel gwine away."

Nep, in great alarm, hastened back with the tidings, upon which Dick Cameron instantly goes up to the house, pulls off his hat, and tells Lemaire that the captain has gone to Sans-Souci, to be gone he didn't know how many days, and the vessel wouldn't sail the next day; therefore there was no need of the negro pilot.

After Dick had gone, Lemaire sent for the overseer,—who was a Spaniard named Juan Romero,—and said to him,—

"The vessel is not going the day set. The captain's gone to Sans-Souci. I'm sorry, for I want the calker to go to work on the new droger. It's no use to set those stupid creatures to work on new work without him; neither do I understand it. These Yankees make the most of their time, and he seems as sharp as any of them. However, there it is; she won't go, and you need not watch."

"I can explain it," replied the overseer. "Monsieur Renault has been here, and wants to make a contract with him for timber. He has gone over to see about it, what kind of a place it is to get to, and the depth of water, because, if he brings large timber, he will need a bigger vessel, and, as I understand it, he's to bring, not only timber, but boards, shingles, nails, lattices, and all the materials for the buildings."

The next afternoon Renault sent Walter back to Vauclin by water, arriving at the vessel about eight o'clock.

It was very important for them to set out at the earliest moment, in order to place the greatest possible distance between themselves and the island before daybreak. So, at ten o'clock in the evening, they went ashore, scattered themselves among the different sentinels, and found nearly all of them asleep. During the whole of the holiday, and for most of the night, they had been engaged in frolicking, drinking, and dancing fandango, had been kept at work during all the next day, and were now so utterly exhausted that they dropped asleep the moment they sat down, and were so overcome with drowsiness as to stagger as they walked.

Walter and Ned went to the yard, where they found Juan fast asleep. Walter gave a light tap on the door of the lock-up, when it was instantly opened, and they entered. Peterson had drawn the staple. The black grasped the hands of his young deliverers, and sobbed for joy. They left immediately, closing the door silently after them, and sought the beach, soon coming to a watchman fast asleep, with Dick standing by, ready to throttle him if he stirred. They passed on till they came to another, whom Lancaster was watching, in the same situation. All were now safely passed but the last, whom they saw at a distance, pacing along the beach.

"I'll take care of him," said Ned.

As they must cross his beat directly to reach the boat, the others lay flat upon the ground, while Ned went whistling along.

"Who dere?" cried the sentinel.

Ned, giving his name, walked directly up to him, and they entered into conversation about the holiday. Ned, giving him a cigar, persuaded him to sit down on an old boat and smoke.

The poor darky had drawn but a few whiffs, when he began to nod; for nature was exhausted by the sports of the holiday, want of sleep, and subsequent labor. He fell over upon Ned, who was sitting beside him, and the cigar dropped from his lips. Ned put his arm round the negro, and gently laid him at full length upon the boat. In a few moments he was sound asleep, and Ned ran to join his companions.

At the boat they found Neptune, who, having had his share of the holiday, was asleep on the thwarts.

Swiftly and silently they pulled for the schooner.

"O, you bressed ole craft," said Peterson, kissing the gunwale; "you ole friend, you is; many the good time Peterson had in you."

It was now dead calm, and they were on board a loaded vessel. The prospect was by no means encouraging, for they well knew that, when the absence of Peterson and the departure of the schooner were discovered, a vengeful pursuit would take place.

Peterson, who had been many years a slave on this same island in his youth,—as many of our readers are aware,—and was well acquainted with the peculiarities of the climate, encouraged his shipmates.

"Nebber fear, Massa Walter. If it be calm here under de land in de night, if we get out five, six miles, den we take trabe wind; sea breeze, he blow all de time; plenty wind; much you carry, too."

They hove up the anchor. There were two sweeps on board the schooner. Dick and Peterson manned one, Walter and Lancaster the other, while Ned and Nep took the boat and towed ahead. Matters soon began to assume a brighter complexion. Cameron and Peterson were men of vast strength. Lancaster was also a very strong man, and Walter belonged to a family renowned for strength and endurance. They had, while lying at the plantation, taken the precaution to clean the vessel's bottom, and, as they could procure no tallow there, gave her bottom a coat of tar and brimstone, which rendered it smooth, and added greatly to her sailing. They were also excited to the utmost by their previous good fortune, dread of being overtaken, and losing their hard-earned prize. Not a word was spoken. No sound was heard but that of the oars, the deep breathing of the rowers, as they exerted themselves to the utmost, and at times a slight patter, as the sweat dropping from nose and chin struck the deck. But when they had cleared the pass, were in the open sea, no signs of daybreak, and the lessening shore assured them they were making good progress, their efforts, though unremitting, became less severe. In the course of another hour they had made such progress that the long silence was broken by Peterson.

"Nebber fear, Massa Walter," he said; "keep you heart up; dey no ketch us dis time; we soon come to de wind; land air so hot he kill de wind in shore. I tell you, you'se hab wind enough."

"Only give me wind," said Walter, "I'll risk their catching us."

"The wind has got to come off the water," said Dick; "if we've got no wind to flee, they've got none to follow; it's as broad as 'tis long."

"I take it, Peterson," said Lancaster, "that we are somewhat nearer to the wind than it is from us to the land."

"Sartin; we not near so fur to go to git de sea-breeze as we hab come."

"What time in the morning," asked Walter, "did they bring your breakfast?"

"About eight o'clock."

"They won't know that you are gone till Peter comes to bring your breakfast. The vessel was hidden by the woods; except by mere chance some one should happen to go up on the hill, or down the creek in a boat, she could not be seen."

The day now began to break, and by the increasing light they saw with the glass the line of blue water ahead rolling before the wind, while between them and it extended a space of calm surface as smooth as glass. A joyous shout burst from the weary, anxious crew at the sight.

"Come aboard, Mr. Gates," said the captain; "we'll tow no more."

Ned went to one of the sweeps, while Nep busied himself in preparing breakfast. The line that separated the broken water from the calm was now quite near. Peterson, unable to contain himself longer, gave vent to his emotions in a favorite negro song, to which the rest contributed a rousing chorus.

Under this new impulse the vessel went through the water faster than ever before, when the song was interrupted by the order, "Make sail."

"Gib dis chile room, 'cordin to his streff," shouted Peterson, flinging the great sweep on board with a jerk, as though it had been the oar of a yawl boat, and springing for the main throat-halyards. Nothing now was heard but the creaking of pulley-blocks and the rattle of the jib-hanks, as sail after sail went rapidly aloft. The Perseverance had now lost the headway given by the oars, and lay motionless upon the glassy surface of the ocean, her canvas hanging in idle folds; but as the sun came up, the line of dark-blue water ahead came nearer and nearer, little dimples flecked the smooth surface, a light cool air fanned the cheeks of the expectant crew, the sails gave a slight flutter, then slap came a heavy puff, the sheets strained and surged, the lee rail was in the water; Lancaster sprang to the helm, and put it hard up; the gallant craft shot ahead, the sunbeams glancing on her sails, and the white foam flashing under her forefoot.

"Glory to God!" shouted Peterson.

"O, Wal, we've done it," cried Ned; and utterly oblivious of the distinctions of office, which he had heretofore so carefully observed, flung his arms round Walter's neck.

"Shipmates," said Walter, as he returned the embrace, "I have been for more than two years trying to do my duty and pray to my Maker; but though I have had courage for everything else, I have not had for that. Let us thank God for bringing us safely through."

Lancaster bent over the tiller, the rest, even to old Dick, knelt on the deck, while in a few broken words Walter gave vent to his emotions, and expressed the common sentiment. Charlie Bell's words had borne fruit, but not by the light of the moon or beneath the stars in some lone midnight watch, but in the bright glow of the morning sunbeams. In the midst of his crew, while his brow was moistened with sweat, and his hand outstretched to deliver the oppressed, the blessing of Him whose ways are not our ways came.

Lemaire was at breakfast, when, with eyes starting from their sockets, Peter entered the dining-hall (followed by Juan, old Phil, and all the house servants), exclaiming, "O, massa, de buckra calker no dere; he gwine away."

"Gone!" cried Lemaire, leaping from his chair.

"Yes, massa. I go wid de breakfast, de door open, buckra man no dere."

The negroes gave Peterson the name of buckra calker to distinguish him, and on account of his superiority, although there was not a blacker negro on the estate.

Without another word Lemaire ran to a cupola on the house-top, which commanded a view of the sea. The schooner was nowhere to be seen; not a sail was visible in the offing.