at his fancy, closed his eyes for a few moments to dream
about the refreshing water, and soon after opened them again to let them
gaze up the curve of a tree till it rose higher and higher, perfectly
straight now, and ended by resting his vision amidst the great fount of
green leaves which started from the crown and curved outwards.

There was a curious clump of fruit there, flowers too, and small and
large nuts; huge, semi-triangular and rounded masses of fibre, and he
looked at the high-up cluster, realising the while that hanging far
above him, where they would fall in front of the hut, was an abundance
of good satisfying food in the shape of pulpy nut, milk and cream, as
well as sweet water that he might drink; so that the occupant of that
humble hut might partake, but which was out of his reach, for the fruit
would not fall and he could not climb.

Murray lay thinking, as his senses grew stronger, of how blessed by
nature the black who lived in that hut must be, with a home that he
could easily construct, and with such ripe fruits ready to his hand with
hardly a care in the production; and then somehow the feeling of envy
seemed to turn to equally profound pity, as it flashed into his mind
that the poor wretch paid for it at the cost of labour, misery, and
despair forced upon him by some of the vilest wretches that lived
beneath the sun.

"Slavery!" muttered the lad, and again slavery mingled with the thoughts
of the horrible sufferings inflicted aboard the slave-ships--sufferings
that he and those with him were there to check and sweep away.

As these thoughts flooded the lad's brain, he at the same time grew
clearer and began to think of Tom May and Titely, of where they were,
and whether they would come to him and Roberts. He even pictured to
himself the former, big, hulking, and strong, coming staggering into
sight with his wounded comrade upon his back. Then his thoughts floated
away to Mr Anderson and his men. How had they got on? he asked
himself. Would the captain soon come with their vessel and by means of
a few shots sweep the place clear of the slave-hunting miscreants?

The midshipman's brain was fast growing clearer still, and all at once
he found himself gazing in imagination at the faithful black, shiny of
face, and clothed in white. Would he find him and his wounded comrade
and guide them back to the boats, or only perhaps to where he hoped Mr
Anderson was holding out at Plantation Cottage?