And then, with much care, Fanny Arkwright was stowed away in the
boat. There was a great contest about the baby, but at last it was
arranged, that at any rate for the first few hours she should be
placed in the boat with the servant. The mother was told that by
this plan she would feel herself at liberty to sleep during the heat
of the day, and then she might hope to have strength to look to the
child when they should be on shore during the night. In this way
therefore they prepared to start, while Abel Ring stood on the bank
looking at them with wishful eyes. In the first boat were two
Indians paddling, and a third man steering with another paddle. In
the middle there was much luggage, and near the luggage so as to be
under shade, was the baby's soft bed. If nothing evil happened to
the boat, the child could not be more safe in the best cradle that
was ever rocked. With her was the maid-servant and some stranger
who was also going down to Greytown.

In the second boat were the same number of men to paddle, the Indian
guide being one of them, and there were the mails placed. Then
there was a seat arranged with blankets, cloaks, and cushions, for
Mrs. Arkwright, so that she might lean back and sleep without
fatigue, and immediately opposite to her her husband placed himself.
"You all look very comfortable," said poor Abel from the bank.

"We shall do very well now," said Arkwright.

"And I do think I shall see mamma again," said his wife.

"That's right, old girl;--of course you will see her. Now then,--we
are all ready." And with some little assistance from the German on