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“I tell you, he’ll flay me alive, that man will! You’d better shoot me dead and put me out of misery.”

While the wretch was making this appeal, Browne was silently engaged in emptying the priming of his flintlock fowling piece, picking open the tube, and then filling the pan with fresh powder from the horn at his side. When he had closed the pan, he struck the stock of the gun one or two blows to shake the powder well down into place, that the gun might not miss fire. Then turning to the captain, he said, “A bargain is a bargain.”

Then to the convict he said: “Black Jim Lewis, you belong to me. Get into that boat, or it’ll be worse for you,” and he slowly raised the snaphance with his thumb on the hammer.

Lewis had aged visibly in ten minutes. With trembling steps he walked to the ship’s side, and clambered over the bulwarks into the dugout. The boy followed, and then the master took his seat in the stern, with his flintlock fowling piece within reach.

“My dead body’ll float down here past the Nancy Jane,” said Jim Lewis to the captain; “and I’ll ha’nt your ship forever–see if I don’t!” He half rose and waved his hand threateningly as he said this in a hoarse, sepulchral voice.

“Mr. Browne,” interposed the captain of the Nancy Jane, as the lifted canoe paddles were ready to dip into the water, “don’t be too hard on the old captain. You see how old and shaken he is. You’ll show moderation, now, won’t you?”

“I’ll care for him,” answered Browne unbendingly. “Away with the canoe! Good-by, captain. My tobacco will be ready for you.”

And Poll, the convict, as she leaned over the rail and watched the fast-receding canoe pitching up and down on the seas, said, “Lawr!”

SCENE III.

The time is the late afternoon of the same day, and the place is again Sanford Browne’s plantation.

Judith Browne, having exhausted her experiments on the frock, the bonnet, and the hoop petticoat bought for her in London and sent like the proverbial pig in a poke, had taken to watching the Yankee peddling sloop, which, having lain for an hour at Patterson’s on the Virginia shore, was now heading for the Browne place. It was pretty to see the sloop heel over under a beam wind and shoot steadily forward, while the waves dashed fair against her weather side and splashed the water from time to time to the top of her free board. It was a pleasant sight to mark her approach by the gradual increase in her size and the growing distinctness with which the details of her rigging could be made out. At length, when her bow appeared to Judith Browne to be driving so straight on the bank that nothing could prevent the vessel’s going ashore Captain Perkins called to his only man, standing at the helm, “Hard down!” and the sloop swung her nose into the waves, and gracefully rounded head into the wind just in time to lie close under the bank, rocking fore and aft like a duck. As soon as she had swung into the wind enough for her sail to flap, the captain called to the boy who was the third member of the crew to let go the halyards; and as the sail ran rattling down, the captain heaved the anchor at the bow with his own hands. Then a plank was run out, a line made fast forward, and Perkins climbed the bank and greeted Mrs. Browne. His manner combined strangely the heartiness of the seaman with the sinuous deference of the peddler. His speech was that which one hears only in the most up-country New England regions and among London small shopkeepers. The uttering of his vowel sounds taper end first greatly amused his customers in the Chesapeake regions, while their abrupt clipping of both vowels and liquids was equally curious to Perkins, who regarded all people outside of New England as natives to be treated with condescending kindness alike for Christian and for business reasons, and as people who were even liable to surprise him by the possession of some rudimentary virtues in spite of their unlucky outlandishness.