biscuit might be softened in
water for him. And with that I placed a pot of water on the fire, and
soon saw by the expression of his eye that I had divined his meaning.

As I continued to blow the fire, and occasionally examined the water to
see if it boiled, I could mark that the negro's eyes never once quitted
me, but, with a restless activity, followed me wherever I went, or
whatever I did; and although from his age, and the dreadful infirmity
he labored under, I felt I should prove his equal in any struggle, I own
that I cast many a sidelong look towards him, lest he should take me by
surprise. That he was the notorious Black Boatswain of whom I had heard
so much, I had no doubt whatever; and I felt not a little vain of my own
courage and presence of mind as I saw myself so possessed and collected
in such company.

"Give! give!" cried he, impatiently, as I examined the mess of steeping
biscuit, and for which he seemed ravenously eager; and at length I
removed it from the fire, and placed it before him. Such voracity as his
I never witnessed, save in the case of Sir Dudley's lions; he crammed
the food with both hands into his mouth, and devoured it with all the
savage earnestness of a wild beast. Twice was I obliged to replenish the
mess; and each time did it vanish with the same despatch.

He now lay back on one arm, and, half closing his eyes, appeared as if
he was going asleep; but at the least stir or movement on my part, I saw
that his wild, red-streaked eyes followed me at once.

Halkett had given me a little bag of tobacco at parting, saying that
although I was no smoker, I should soon learn to become one in my
solitude. This I now produced, and offered him a handful.

The dark features were immediately lighted up with an almost frantic
expression of pleasure, as he clutched the precious weed; and tearing
off a fragment of the paper, he rolled it into the shape of a cigarette.

"No smoke?" asked he, as I sat watching his preparations.

I shook my head. "Ah!" cried he, laying down the tobacco before him.
"Tehoka, here," said he, pointing to it.

"I don't understand," said I; "what is Tehoka?"

"Bad! bad!" said he, shaking both hands; "weed make negro so------,
so------," and he opened his mouth wide, and dropped his arms heavily
backwards, to represent sickness, or perhaps death.

"No, no," said I; "this is good, a friend gave it to me."

"Smoke," said he, pushing it over towards me; and I saw now t