Levin was frightened too; the more that he saw the stronger man's fear.
As they dashed across the camp-ground the wild-geese took alarm, and,
some running, some flying, scudded towards the Sound. A voice from the
pulpit cried after the retreating men, but only to increase their fears,
and when they leaped on board the _Ellenora_, Joe Johnson was livid with
terror. He ran partly down the companion-way and stopped to look back:
the wild-geese were now spreading their wings like a fleet of fleecy
sails, and fluttering down the sound in gallant convoy.

"What did you run for?" Levin said; "the jug of brandy is left. It was
only Parson Thomas!"

"You run first," the man replied, gasping for breath, and a little
ashamed. "What did he preach at me fur?"

"That's the parson of the islands," Levin said; "he started Deil's
Island camp-meetin' last year, an' his favo-rite preacher dyin' jess as
he got it done, ole Pap Thomas, who lives yer, comes out to the
preachin'-stand sometimes alone, an' has a cry and a prayer. The geese
scared _me_, cap'n."

"Push off!" ordered Joe Johnson; "my teeth are most a-chatterin' with
the chill that mace cove give me."

He pulled up the anchor, hoisted the jib, and showed such nervous
apprehension that Levin subsided to managing the helm, and steered down
the thoroughfare, or strait, which, for some distance, wound around the
camp-meeting grove.

"Yer's Jack Wonnell comin' with the jug and the dinner. Sha'n't we wait
fur him?"

"He's got the kingdom-come cove with him! No; stop for nothing."

But the boat had to stop, as her keel scraped the mud in the almost dry
thoroughfare, and a plain island man of benevolent, nearly credulous,
face, hailed them, saying, stutteringly:

"Ne-ne-neighbors, do-don't be sc-scared that a-way. We ain't
he-eee-thens yer. Br-br-brother Wonnell's bringin' your taters and
pone."

"Come on, an' be damned to you?" Johnson cried to Wonnell. "What do we
want with this tolabon sauce?"

"Sw-w-wear not a-a-at all!" cried the parson of the islands. "'Twon't
l-l-lift ye over l-l-low tide, brother. Stay an' eat, an' t-t-talk a
little with us. Why, I have seen that f-f-face before!"

"Never in a gospel-ken before," the slave-dealer muttered, with an oath.

"B-but it can't be him," spoke the island parson, with solemnity. "Ole
Ebenezer Johnson died s-s-several year ago."

"Who was he?" cried the slave-dealer, with a little respectful interest.

"Ebenez-z-zer Johns