I stared through the dusk into her animated face, scarcely comprehending.

“Do you not understand, yet?” she asked.  “The Captain of this brig is the agent; he represents the government, and is obliged to find places for the prisoners.”

“Yes; I know that.  We are billed like so much livestock; he must account for every head.”

“Well, Uncle Roger went to him yesterday, and made a bid for you.  Finally they came to terms.  That is one reason why you are left alone here on deck tonight.  The officers are no longer responsible for you—­you are already indentured.”

I drew a deep breath, and in the sudden impulse of relief which swept over me, my own fingers closed tightly about her hands.

“You tell me I am to accompany your party up the Chesapeake?”

“Yes.”

“I owe this to you; I am sure I must owe this to you—­tell me?”

Her eyes drooped, and in the dim light I could mark the heaving of her bosom, as she caught her breath.

“Only—­only the suggestion,” she managed to say in a whisper.  “He—­he was glad of that.  You see I—­I knew he needed someone to take charge of his sloop, and—­and so I brought you to his mind.  We—­we both thought you would be just the one, and—­and he went right away to see the Captain.  So please don’t thank me.”

“I shall never cease to thank you,” I returned warmly, conscious suddenly that I was holding her hands, and as instantly releasing them.  “Why, do you begin to understand what this actually means to me?  It means the retention of manhood, of self-respect.  It will save me the degradation which I dreaded most of all—­the toiling in the fields beside negro slaves, and the sting of the lash.  Ay, it means even more—­”

I hesitated, instantly realizing that I must not utter those impetuous words leaping to my lips.

“More!” she exclaimed.  “What more?”

“This,” I went on, my thought shifting into a new channel.  “A longer servitude.  Up to this moment my one dream has been to escape, but I must give that up now.  You have placed me under obligations to serve.”

“You mean you feel personally bound?” “Yes; not quite so much to your uncle, perhaps, as to yourself.  But between us this has become a debt of honor.”

“But wait,” she said earnestly “for I had even thought of that.  I was sure you would feel that way—­any gentleman would.  Still there is a way out.  You were sentenced as an indentured servant.”

“I suppose so.”

“It is true; you were so entered on the books of this ship.  Uncle Roger had to be sure of all this before he paid his money, and I saw the entry myself.  It read:  ’Geoffry Carlyle, Master Mariner, indentured to the Colonies for the term of twenty years, unless sooner released; crime high treason.’  Surely you must know the meaning of those words?”

“Servitude for twenty years.”

“‘Unless sooner released.’”