y. And so I resolved that if I got free I would ask Uncle Moses
to lead me to some spot near by, difficult of access, where I might
lurk while concerting some means of assisting her. It passed my wit
to conceive of any plan that promised success; but certainly I
could do nothing while a prisoner, and to be free was my one
consuming desire.

How impatiently I waited for the dark needs no telling. And some
words I overheard pass between my jailors, as they talked over
their supper, drove me to such a state of desperation that I had
almost there and then dashed myself against the door and ruined
everything.

"'Twill be summat new for Parson Jim," says Jack.

"Ay, 'tis many a year since he tied a knot o' that sort," replied
the other.

"D'ye reckon he can tie it safe and proper, seeing he bean't no
more a parson?" asked Jack.

"Never you fear," says Bill; "once a parson always a parson, as
I've heard tell. 'Tis no matter he's a swab and a tosspot like you
and me, only worse, and fit for nothing but a Newgate galley; he'll
read the words o' the book, if so be he's sober enough to see 'em
(though to be sure his talk is always most pious when he's drunk),
and they'll be lawful man and wife, same as if they'd bin spliced
by the Pope of Rome himself."

This wrought me into a very fever of apprehension. I could only
guess who Parson Jim might be; the buccaneers gathered all manner
of strange recruits; it was enough that there was talk of a
marriage, and I was sick with dread lest after all I should be too
late. And when at last I heard the welcome rustle below me, the
first words I spoke through the tube were an anxious inquiry for
Lucy's welfare.

"Missy lots better now, sah," replied the negro, and with the
vanity of youth I inferred that she was better for the knowledge
that I was near.

"Is Mr. Cludde at the house?" I asked.

"No, sah; Massa Cludde gone yesterday."

That was good news, at any rate, for I supposed him to have
returned to Spanish Town, perhaps to make preparations for his
wedding, and it must be four or five days at earliest before he
could be back.

"And when is Mistress Lucy's birthday?" I asked.

"Missy's bufday Friday, Massa, but oughter be Fursday."

"What do you mean?"

"Missy keep bufday one day after proper time, sah, cos her muvver
die on proper bufday, and Massa and Missy too sorry to be jolly dat
day, sah."

"Does Mr. Vetch know that?" I asked, with no little anxiety, for
'twa