As soon as it was daylight the oars were again got out. They could clearly make out the outline of the coast, and saw the break in the shore that marked the entrance to Hampton Roads. There was a light breeze now, but Vincent would not hoist the sail lest it might attract the attention of someone on shore. He did not think the boat itself could be seen, as they were some eight or nine miles from the land. They rowed for a quarter of an hour, when Vincent saw the white sails of a ship coming out from the entrance.
The breeze was so light that she would, he thought, be nearly three hours before she reached the spot where they were now, and whether she headed to the right or left of it he would have plenty of time to cut her off. For another two hours he and Dan rowed steadily. The wind had freshened a good deal, and the ship was now coming up fast to them. Two others had come out after her, but were some miles astern. They had already made out that the ship was flying a flag at her masthead, and although they had not been able to distinguish its colors, Vincent felt sure that it was the right ship; for he felt certain that the captain would get up sail as soon as possible, so as to come up with them before any other vessels came out. They had somewhat altered their course, to put themselves in line with the vessel. When she was within a distance of about a mile and a half Vincent was able to make out the flag, and knew that it was the right one.
"There's the ship, Tony," he said; "it is all right, and in a few minutes you will be on your way to England."
Tony had already changed his tattered garments for the suit of sailor's clothes that Dan had bought for him. Vincent had given him full instructions as to the course he was to pursue. The ship was bound for Liverpool; on his arrival there he was at once to go round the docks and take a passage in the steerage of the next steamer going to Canada.
"The fare will be about five pounds," he said. "When you get to Canada you will land at Quebec, and you had better go on by rail to Montreal, where you will, I think, find it easier to get work than at Quebec. As soon as you get a place you are likely to stop in, get somebody to write for you to me, giving me your address. Here are a hundred dollars, which will be sufficient to pay your expenses to Montreal and leave you about fifty dollars to keep you till you can get something to do."
Chapter IV.
Safely Back.
When the ship came within a few hundred yards, Vincent stood up and waved his cap, and a minute later the ship was brought up into the wind and her sails thrown aback. The captain appeared at the side and shouted to the boat, now but fifty yards away.
"What do you want, there?"
"I have a passenger for England," Vincent replied. "Will you take him?"
"Come alongside," the captain said. "Why didn't he come on board before I started?"
The boat was rowed alongside, and Vincent climbed on board. The captain greeted him as a stranger and led the way to his cabin.
"You have managed that well," he said, when they were alone, "and I am heartily glad that you have succeeded. I made you out two hours ago. We will stop here another two or three minutes, so that the men may think you are bargaining for a passage for the negro, and then the sooner he is on board and you are on your way back the better, for the wind is rising, and I fancy it is going to blow a good deal harder before night."
"And won't you let me pay for the man's passage, captain? It is only fair, anyhow, that I should pay for what he will eat."
"Oh, nonsense!" the captain replied. "He will make himself useful, and pay for his keep. I am only too glad to get the poor fellow off. Now, we will have a glass of wine together and then say good-by."
Two minutes later they returned to the deck. Vincent went to the side.
"Jump on board, Tony. I have arranged for your passage." The negro climbed up the side.
"Good-by, captain, and thank you heartily. Good-by, Tony."
The negro could not speak, but seized the hand Vincent held out to him and pressed it to his lips. Vincent dropped lightly into his boat and pushed off from the side of the vessel. As he did so he heard orders shouted, the yards swung round, and the vessel almost at once began to move through the water.
"Now, Dan, up with the mast and sail again; but let me put two reefs in first, the wind is getting up."
In five minutes the sail was hoisted, and with Vincent at the helm and Dan sitting up to windward, was dashing through the water. Although Vincent understood the management of a sailing-boat on the calm waters of the rivers, this was his first experience of sea-sailing; and although the waves were still but small, he felt somewhat nervous as the boat dashed through them, sending up at times a sheet of spray from her bows. But he soon got over this sensation, and enjoyed the lively motion and fresh wind. The higher points of the land were still visible; but even had they not been so it would have mattered little, as he had taken the precaution to bring with him a small pocket-compass. The wind was from the southwest, and he was therefore able, with the sheet hauled in, to make for a point where he judged the mouth of the York River lay.
"Golly, massa! how de boat do jump up and down."
"She is lively, Dan, and it would be just as well if we had some ballast on board; however, she has a good beam and walks along splendidly. If the wind keeps as it is, we shall be back at the mouth of the York in three or four hours. You may as well open that basket again and hand me that cold chicken and a piece of bread; cut the meat off the bones and put it on the bread, for I have only one hand disengaged, and hand me that bottle of cold tea. That's right. Now you had better take something yourself. You must be hungry. We forgot all about the basket in our interest in the ship."
Dan shook his head.
"A little while ago, massa, me seem bery hungry, now me doesn't feel hungry at all."
"That's bad, Dan. I am afraid you are going to be seasick."
"Me no feel seasick, massa; only me don't feel hungry."
But in a few minutes Dan was forced to confess that he did feel ill, and a few moments afterward was groaning in the agonies of seasickness.
"Never mind, Dan," Vincent said cheerfully. "You will be better after this."
"Me not seasick, massa; de sea have nuffin to do with it. It's de boat dat will jump up and down instead of going quiet."
"It's all the same thing, Dan; and I hope she won't jump about more before we get into the river."
But in another half hour Vincent had to bring the boat's head up to the wind, lower the lug, and tie down the last reef.
"There she goes easier now, Dan," he said, as the boat resumed her course; but Dan, who was leaning helplessly over the side of the boat, could see no difference.
Vincent, however, felt that under close sail the boat was doing better, and rising more easily on the waves which were now higher and farther apart than before. In another hour the whole of the shore-line was visible; but the wind had risen so much that, even under her reduced sail, the boat had as much as she could carry, and often heeled over until her gunwale was nearly under water. Another hour and the shore was but some four miles away, but Vincent felt he could no longer hold on.
In the hands of an experienced sailor, who would have humored the boat and eased her up a little to meet the seas, the entrance to the York River could no doubt have been reached with safety; but Vincent was ignorant of the art of sailing a boat in the sea, and she was shipping water heavily. Dan had for some time been baling, having only undertaken the work in obedience to Vincent's angry orders, being too ill to care much what became of them.
"Now, Dan, I am going to bring her head up to