st tell you about
things. I could not find Ben Greenway, and I asked one of the men about
him, feigning that he owed me for some fruit, and the man looked at
another man and laughed, and said that he had been sent for in a hurry,
and had gone ashore in a boat."

"I cannot believe that," said Kate; "he would not go away and leave me."

Dickory could not believe it either, and could offer no explanation.

Kate now looked anxiously over the water towards the town, but no father
was to be seen.

"Now let me tell you what I found out," said Dickory, "you must know it.
These men are wicked robbers. I slipped quietly among them to find out
something, with my shilling in my hand, ready to ask somebody to change,
if I was noticed."

"Well, what next?" laying her hand on his arm.

"Oh, don't do that!" he said quickly; "better take hold of a banana. I
spied that Big Sam, who is sailing-master, and a black-headed fellow
taking their ease behind some boxes, smoking, and I listened with all
sharpness. And Sam, he said to the other one--not in these words, but in
language not fit for you to hear--what he would like to do would be to
get off on the next tide. And when the other fellow asked him why he
didn't go then and leave the fool--meaning your father--to go back to
his farm, Big Sam answered, with a good many curses, that if he could do
it he would drop down the river that very minute and wait at the bar
until the water was high enough to cross, but that it was impossible
because they must not sail until your father had brought his cash-box on
board. It would be stupid to sail without that cash-box."

"Dickory," said she, "I am frightened; I want to go on shore, and I want
to see my father and tell him all these things."

"But there is no boat," said Dickory; "every boat has left the ship."

"But you have one," said she, looking over the side.

"It is a poor little canoe," he answered, "and I am afraid they would
not let me take you away, I having no orders to do so."

Kate was about to open her mouth to make an indignant reply, when he
exclaimed, "But here comes a boat from the town; perhaps it is your
father!"

She sprang to the rail. "No, it is not," she exclaimed; "it holds but
one man, who rows."

She stood, without a word, watching the approaching boat, Dickory doing
the same, but keeping himself out of the general view. The boat came
alongside and the oarsman handed up a note, which was presently brought
to