de old Torch? Many a time hab I, Peter Mangrove, pilot to him Britannic
Majesty's squadron, taken de old brig in and through amongst de keys at
Port Royal."

"She will never give you that trouble again, my boy--foundered--all
hands lost, Peter, but the two you see before you."

"Werry sorry, Massa 'Plinter, werry sorry. What? de black cook's-mate
and all? But misfortune can't be help. Stop till I put up my needle, and
I will take a turn wid you. Proper dat British hofficers in distress
should assist one anoder--we shall consult togeder. How can I serve
you?"

"Why, Peter, if you could help us to a passage to Port Royal, it would
be serving us most essentially. Here we have been for more than a month,
without a single vessel belonging to the station having looked in; our
money is running short, and in another six weeks we shall not have a
shot left in the locker."

The negro looked steadfastly at us, and then carefully around before he
answered.

"You see, Massa 'Plinter, I am desirable to serve you; it is good for me
at present to make some friend wid the hofficer of de squadron, being as
how dat I am absent widout leave. If you will promise dat you will stand
my friends, I will put you in de way of getting a shove across to de
east end of Jamaica; and I will go wid you, too, for company. But you
must promise dat you will not seek to know more of de vessel, nor of her
crew, than dey are willing to tell you, provided you are landed safe."