ght seemed to strike him and he tucked the oar he had
seized under one knee and turned to the middy, saying sharply--

"You go kill Massa Allen?"

"Kill him? No!" cried Murray, in surprise.

The man nodded and gave the black crew an order, and their oars dipped
at once, while the little English party in the cutter followed the lead,
and to Murray's surprise he found himself taken through an entirely
fresh canal-like lead of water of whose existence he had not the
slightest idea.

"I thought so, sir," said Tom May, in a low tone of voice. "This chap
knows his way about, and it's worth a Jew's eye to have found him and
made friends. You'll see that he'll show us where to go. Shouldn't
wonder if he takes us straight to that Mr Allen."

"If he only would, Tom!" replied the midshipman, speaking as if a great
load was being taken off his mind.

"Oh, you wait a bit, sir."

"Bother your wait a bit, Tom! I'm sick of hearing it," cried the lad
angrily. "Why, look here, they're making straight for the cottage after
all."

"Well, didn't you expect they would, sir?" cried the big sailor.

"No; what's the good of that?"

"What I said, sir. Maybe the gentleman has come back again."

"No such good fortune, Tom. Well, we shall soon know;" and the lad sat
back in the cutter's stern sheets steering and watching the planter's
boat, to which he kept close up, while the black crew threaded their way
in and out amongst the canes, till they pulled up by the bamboo
landing-stage.

"Massa Allen in dere, sah," whispered the black, pointing at the doorway
of the cottage, and smiling with satisfaction as if delighted at the
skill with which he had played the part of pilot.

Murray sprang on to the creaking bamboo stage, and, ready to believe
that the sick man might have returned, he signed to May to follow him,
hurried into the place, thrust open the study door and had only to
glance in to satisfy himself that the little room was still vacant.

"Let's look in the other room, Tom," said the middy sadly, "but it's of
no use; our prisoner has not come back."

A hurried glance was given to each portion of the cottage, and then
Murray led the way back to the landing-stage, where the black coxswain
sat grinning a welcome.

"He's not there, my lad," cried Murray, shaking his head. "Master Allen
has gone."

"Massa Allen gone!" repeated the black, and then, as if placing no faith
whatever in the young officer's assertion, he s