less we are noticed the better at this time of night."

Taking the sculls, Vincent rowed quietly away. He had often been
out on boating excursions with his friends, and had learned to row
fairly. During the last two days he had diligently instructed Dan,
and after two long days' work the young negro had got over the
first difficulties, but he was still clumsy and awkward. Vincent
did not exert himself. He knew he had a long night's row before
him, and he paddled quietly along with the stream. The boat was a
good-sized one, and when not under sail was generally rowed by
two strong negroes accustomed to the work.

Sometimes for half an hour at a time Vincent ceased rowing, and
let the boat drift along quietly. There was no hurry, for he had a
day and two nights to get down to the month of the river, a
distance of some seventy miles, and out to sea far enough to
intercept the vessel. At four o'clock they arrived at Cumberland,
where the Pamunkey and Mattapony Rivers unite and form the
York River. Here they were in tidal waters; and as the tide, though
not strong, was flowing up, Vincent tied the boat to the branch of a
tree, and lay down in the bottom for an hour's sleep, telling Dan to
wake him when the tide turned, or if he heard any noise. Day had
broken when the boat drifted round, and Dan aroused him.

The boat was rowed off to the middle of the river, as there could
be no longer any attempt at concealment. Dan now took the bow
oar, and they rowed until a light breeze sprang up. Vincent then
put up the mast, and, having hoisted the sail, took his place at
the helm, while Dan went forward into the bow. They passed several
fishing-boats, and the smoke was seen curling up from the huts in the