With Lee in Virginia. G. A. Henty

waves bery big, massa."

      "They are big, Dan; but they are not so angry. The heads are not breaking over as they did last night, and the boat will go better over these long waves than she did through the choppy sea at the beginning of the gale."

      Accordingly the bundle of spars was pulled up alongside and lifted. The mast was set up and the sail hoisted. Dan in a few minutes forgot his fears and lost even his sense of uneasiness as he found the boat mounted wave after wave without shipping water. Several times, indeed, a shower of spray flew high up in the air, but the gusts no longer buried her so that the water came over the gunwale, and it was a long time before there was any occasion to use the baler. As the sun set it could be seen that there was a dark line between it and the water.

      "There is the land, Dan; and I do not suppose it is more than twenty miles away, for most of the coast lies low."

      "But how we find de York River, massa? Will de compass tell you dat?"

      "No, Dan. I don't know whether we have drifted north or south of it. At ordinary times the current runs up the coast, but the wind this morning was blowing from the north of west, and may have been doing so all through the night for anything I know. Well, the great thing is to make land. We are almost sure to come across some fishing boats, but, if not, we must run ashore and find a house."

      They continued sailing until Vincent's watch told him it was twelve o'clock, by which time the coast was quite close. The wind now almost dropped, and, lowering their sail, they rowed in until, on lowering the anchor, they found that it touched the ground. Then they lay down and slept till morning. Dan was the first to waken.

      "Dar are some houses dere close down by the shore, sah, and some men getting out a boat."

      "That's all right, Dan," Vincent said, as he roused himself and looked over. "We shall learn soon where we are."

      In a quarter of an hour the fishing boat put off, and the lads at once rowed to it.

      "How far are we from the mouth of the York River?" Vincent asked the two negroes on board.

      "About twenty miles, sah. Where you come from?"

      "We were off the mouth of the river, and were blown off in the gale."

      "You tink yourself bery lucky you get back," one of them said. "Bery foolish to go out like dat when not know how to get back."

      "Well, we have managed to get back now, you see, and none the worse for it. Now, Dan, up with the sail again."

      There was a light wind offshore, and all the reefs being shaken out the boat ran along fast.

      "I should think we are going about five miles an hour, Dan. We ought to be off the mouth of the river in four hours. We must look out sharp or else we shall pass it, for many of these islets look just like the mouth of the river. However, we are pretty sure to pass several fishing boats on our way, and we shall be able to inquire from them."

      There was no need, however, to do this. It was just four hours from the time of starting when they saw some eight or ten fishing boats ahead of them.

      "I expect that that is the entrance to the river. When we get half a mile further we shall see it open."

      On approaching the fishing boats they recognized at once the appearance of the shore, as they had noticed it when fishing there before, and were soon in the entrance to the river.

      "It will be high tide in about two hours," Vincent said, "according to the time it was the other day. I am afraid when it turns we shall have to get down our sails; there will be no beating against both wind and tide. Then we must get out oars and row. There is very little tide close in by the bank, and every little gain will be a help. We have been out four days. It is Thursday now, and they will be beginning to get very anxious at home, so we must do our best to get back."

      Keeping close under the bank, they rowed steadily, making on an average about two miles an hour. After five hours' rowing they tied up to the bank, had a meal, and rested until tide turned; then they again hoisted their sail and proceeded on their way. Tide carried them just up to the junction of the two rivers, and landing at Cumberland they procured beds and slept till morning.

      Another long day's work took them up to the plantation of Mr. Furniss, and fastening up the boat, and carrying the sails and oars on shore, they started on their walk home.

      "Why, Vincent, where have you been all this time?" Mrs. Wingfield said as her son entered. "You said you might be away a couple of nights, and we expected you back on Wednesday at the latest, and now it is Friday evening."

      "Well, mother, we have had great fun. We went sailing about right down to the mouth of the York River. I did not calculate that it would take me more than twice as long to get back as to get down; but as the wind blew right down the river it was precious slow work, and we had to row all the way. However, it has been a jolly trip, and I feel a lot better for it."

      "You don't look any better for it," Annie said. "The skin is all off your face, and you are as red as fire. Your clothes look shrunk as well as horribly dirty. You are quite an object, Vincent."

      "We got caught in a heavy gale," Vincent said, "and got a thorough ducking. As to my face, a day or two will set it all to rights again; and so they will my hands, I hope, for I have got nicely blistered tugging at those oars. And now, mother, I want some supper, for I am as hungry as a hunter. I told Dan to go into the kitchen and get a good square meal."

      The next morning, just after breakfast, there was the sound of horses' hoofs outside the house, and, looking out, Vincent saw Mr. Jackson, with a man he knew to be the sheriff, and four or five others. A minute later one of the servants came in, and said that the sheriff wished to speak to Mrs. Wingfield.

      "I will go out to him," Mrs. Wingfield replied. Vincent followed her to the door.

      "Mrs. Wingfield," the sheriff said, "I am the holder of a warrant to search your slave-huts and grounds for a runaway negro named Anthony Moore, the property of Mr. Jackson here."

      "Do you suppose, sir," Mrs. Wingfield asked angrily, "that I am the sort of person to give shelter to runaway slaves?"

      "No, madam, certainly not," the sheriff replied; "no one would suppose for a moment that Mrs. Wingfield of the Orangery would have anything to do with a runaway, but Mr. Jackson here learned only yesterday that the wife of this slave was here and everyone knows that where the wife is the husband is not likely to be far off."

      "I suppose, sir," Mrs. Wingfield said coldly, "that there was no necessity for me to acquaint Mr. Jackson formally with the fact that I had purchased through my agent the woman he sold to separate her from her husband."

      "By no means, madam, by no means; though, had we known it before, it might have been some aid to us in our search. Have we your permission to see this woman and to question her?"

      "Certainly not," Mrs. Wingfield said; "but if you have any question to ask I will ask her and give you her answer."

      "We want to know whether she has seen her husband since the day of his flight from the plantation."

      "I shall certainly not ask her that question, Mr. Sheriff. I have no doubt that, as the place from which he has escaped is only a few miles from here, he did come to see his wife. It would have been very strange if he did not. I hope that by this time the man is hundreds of miles away. He was brutally treated by a brutal master, who, I believe, deliberately set to work to make him run away, so that he could hunt him down and punish him. I presume, sir, you do not wish to search this house, and you do not suppose that the man is hidden here. As to the slave-huts and the plantation, you can, of course, search them thoroughly; but as it is now more than a fortnight since the man escaped, it is not likely you will find him hiding within a few miles of his master's plantation."

      So saying, she went into the house and shut the door behind her.

      Mr. Jackson ground his teeth with rage, but the sheriff rode off toward the slave-huts without a word. The position of Mrs. Wingfield of