"I did not think of that, father," I said.

"No, poor fellows, when they have been sold into slavery, there is no
going back. Even if we could put them ashore in Africa, it would only
be for them to be slain or sold again."

"Then--" I stopped short, afraid to finish my speech.

"Well, what were you going to say?"

"I was going to ask you if--if--"

"I was going to keep slaves like my neighbours, eh?"

"Yes, father," I said, bluntly.

"Yes, my boy. It is forced upon me to do so; but it will be an easy
slavery, George. We have thrown their chains away, and they are free to
go wherever they like. Now call Morgan, and let's have them up here."

I called our man, and the sail was dragged aside, for the boy to crouch
menacingly by the man, who lay gazing at us in a dull, heavy way.

"How are we to make them understand?" said my father, who advanced, bent
down, and took hold of the negro's wrist and felt his pulse.

The boy bared his teeth, but the man said a word or two in his own
language, and the boy drew back.

"Stronger, decidedly," said my father; and he stood watching his
patient, while I fetched some more bread and soaked it in wine.

He ate it slowly and mechanically, like some beast of burden, and when
it was finished my father signed to him to get up, saying the words at
the same time.

He evidently understood, and tried to raise himself, nearly reaching to
a sitting position, but falling back from sheer weakness, and gazing
shrinkingly at us as if expecting a blow.

But as no blow came he spoke to the boy, who at once took his hands and
pulled him into a sitting position, but the man could do no more, and
uttered a low groan in his abject weakness as he gazed up in his eyes.

My father thought for a moment and then turned to Morgan.

"Get the sail," he said; and the triangular piece of canvas was spread
beside the man on the ground.

"Now," said my father, "creep on to that, and we'll carry you."

The man looked up at him with his brow puckered over with lines, but he
did not comprehend.

"Show him what I mean," said my father; and I lay down on the canvas,
and then rose up, and my father pointed.

The negro understood him, spoke to the boy, and with his help and
Morgan's half rolled, half dragged himself on to the sail.

"Now," said my father; "he's big and heavy; Morgan and I will take the
top, you take the bottom, George. If you could get that boy to
understand, it would be eas