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."