hey were likely to be overheard; and then,
as if gaining confidence, he leaned towards the midshipman and
whispered--

"Massa overseer go to get men from schooner--fighting men come and kill
sailor and burn up ship. Big fire. Burn ship. Burn, kill sailor.
Massa no tell what Caesar say?"

"Oh no; I shall not tell Master Huggins, Caesar," said Murray, smiling.
"Now tell your men to come back and row your boat. I want to find Mr
Allen."

The black looked searchingly in the midshipman's face once more, and
then apparently gaining confidence, he turned sharply upon the big
sailor, when that which he had gained seemed to be dying out again and
he glanced at the shore of the lagoon, and Tom read so plainly that the
black was thinking again of flight that he gave him a sharp slap on the
shoulder, making him wince violently and utter a low sob.

"Why, you are a pretty sort of fellow," cried the sailor, his face
opening out into a jovial smile. "You seem to have a nice idee of a
British sailor!"

"Bri'sh sailor?" said the black, slowly repeating the tar's words. "You
Bri'sh sailor, hey?"

"To be sure I am, my lad--leastwise I hope so."

"Bri'sh sailor no hurt poor niggah?"

"Not a bit of it, darkie. Can't you understand we've come to set the
slaves free?"

"No," said the black sadly. "Massa Huggin say--"

"Massa Huggin say!" growled the big sailor, frowning fiercely. "You
tell your Massa Huggins that the British sailor is going to--See here,
you benighted heathen. I want to make you understand some'at. There,
hold still; I'm not going to hurt you. Now see."

As the sailor spoke he untied the knot of his neckerchief and threw it
round the black's neck, made a fresh slip-knot and drew it tight, and
with horrible realism held up one end of the silken rope, while with a
low wail the poor shivering wretch sank unresistingly upon his knees in
the bottom of the boat.

"Don't, don't, Tom! You're frightening the poor fellow to death."

"Nay, sir; he'll understand it directly. It's all right, darkie," he
continued, with a broad grin at the black's fear. "I want to show you
what a British sailor means to do with your Massa Huggins."

"Massa Huggin? No kill Caesar?"

"Kill Caesar, darkie?" cried the sailor. "No, no. Hang--yard-arm--
Massa Huggins. We'll teach him to talk about burning his Majesty's Ship
_Seafowl_. There, now do you understand?" cried Tom, slipping off the
black silk handkerchief and kn