“Whist, me lad, an’ I’ll tell ye!” said Terrence, in an undertone.  Terrence first looked round to assure himself that there was no one within hearing and then said, “Safe on mother earth, me lad, and, what’s best of all, American soil!” American soil!—­the very announcement sent a thrill of hope and joy through his heart.  Terrence then informed him that they had been wrecked on the coast of Maine, that most of the crew were saved, and the captain intended to march, as soon as the men were able, over the line into Canada.  Terrence assured Fernando that, so far as he was concerned, he had no intention of leaving America; but the matter had to be handled carefully.  They were on a thinly populated coast and Captain Bones had enough English marines to enforce his authority.

“Then how can we escape?” asked Fernando.

“Lave it all to me!” said the Irishman.  As Fernando was incapable of doing anything himself, he very naturally left it all to his Irish friend.  “Now I want ye to be too sick to travel for a week.  By that time, I’ll have the captain all right and snug enough.”

Though badly bruised and stunned, Fernando had no bones broken.  At any time within three days after the shipwreck he could have left the barn, but, following the advice of Terrence, he assumed a stupid state and refused to talk with any of the officers who called to see him.  Terrence became nurse to the invalid as well as the brewer of punch for the captain.  Only one other person was taken into the secret plans of the Irishman, that was the negro Job.

Job was delighted.

“Gwine ter run away!” he chuckled, “yah, yah, yah, dat am glorious!  I tell yer, dis chile ain’t no Britisher.  I tole yer dar ain’t no Angler Saxun blood in dese veins.”

Job was installed assistant nurse over Fernando, and when the captain asked the negro about him, the black face became sober, and Job shook his woolly head, saying: 

“Dun no, massa, spect he am gwine ter die.  He am awful bad.”

Captain Bones gave utterance to a burst of profanity and seriously hoped the wounded sailor would either get well or die, and be very quick about it.  Fernando heard him as he lay in the barn loft and could not refrain from chuckling.

“We’ve got to move soon,” growled the captain.  “No ship will ever put into this port for us.  We must march to Halifax.”

“Golly! guess dis chile see himself marchin’ ter Halifax,” the negro murmured, when the captain had left the barn.

Captain Bones was quartered at the best fisherman’s cabin in the neighborhood.  It was not much of a shelter, but it was the best he could find.  Captain Bones was provoked at the delay in Fernando’s recovery.  He knew he was an impressed American, and if he left him, he would be lost to the service, and yet he dared not much longer delay going to Halifax.

He was bargaining with a coasting schooner to take himself and crew to Halifax, when one evening Terrence came to him with a very serious face, as if the fortunes of Great Britain were in peril.