CHAPTER II

THE MIDNIGHT LANDING


The skipper predicted like a prophet. The ship was in the bay, and it
was midnight or nearly so; for certain stars had climbed into certain
quarters of the sky, and after their fashion were striking the hour.

The passenger was pleased.

"You have done well," he said to the mariner. "Be silent now, and get
close in shore. There are no breakers. Have the small boat ready, and do
not let the anchors go."

The calm still prevailed, and the swells of the sea were scarce
perceptible. Under the gentlest impulse of the oars the little vessel
drifted broadside on until the keel touched the sands. At the same
instant the small boat appeared. The skipper reported to the passenger.
Going to each of the slaves, the latter signed them to descend. The
negro swung himself down like a monkey, and received the baggage, which,
besides the bundles already mentioned, consisted of some tools, notably
a pick, a shovel, and a stout crowbar. An empty water-skin was also sent
down, followed by a basket suggestive of food. Then the passenger, with
a foot over the side of the vessel, gave his final directions.

"You will run now," he said to the skipper, who, to his credit, had thus
far asked no questions, "down to the city, and lie there to-morrow,
and to-morrow night. Attract little notice as possible. It is not
necessary to pass the gate. Put out in time to be here at sunrise. I