“Save me!  Save me!” he cried again and again.

“For God’s sake, loose him!” I cried, turning to the negro.

God knows Cludde had done me harm enough; but for the working of a gracious Providence he had ruined my life; but all remembrance of this fled from me as I beheld his pitiful plight and mortal terror, and heard his altered voice screaming for mercy.

“I know him; he was once a friend of mine,” I cried, and God forgive me the lie.  “Let him go; don’t torture him any longer.”

Noah laughed in my face.

“What for me let him go?” he said. “’Cos he is a white man?  He is a white debbil; he shall hab his lesson.”

“But it is murder.  You would not murder him?”

“And he murder me!  De whip cut me twenty times, and if I die, what den?  Noah is only a black man:  it is not murder to kill a black man!  Dey kill me:  I lib for teach him lesson.”

“Let him go,” I cried, “and I will give you money—­twenty dollars.”

“No!”

“Thirty—­forty dollars!”

“No!”

“Forty dollars is a great big lot,” said Uncle Moses, who had joined us and saw my desperate eagerness to save the man.

“No!” said Noah again, his mouth tightening with inflexible determination.

“Uncle Moses,” I said, “can’t you bend him?  I will give anything if he will but spare the man.  I am a king’s officer; you know that what I promise I will do; and he is your mistress’ cousin.”

“Noah, my son,” said the old negro, “listen to Massa.  S’pose you burn de white man, what good to you?  He die, oh course, and nebber can do nuffin’ to black mans no mo’; but you will only be pleased a lill tiny while, and if you let him go you gwine hab dollars what will last long, long time.”

“No!” returned Noah.  “I will teach him lesson, and be pleased for ebber and ebber.”

And he walked away and began to gather up some sticks and carry them to the tree where Cludde, utterly exhausted, seemed to have fainted away.

I asked Moses what sum would purchase Noah’s freedom, ready to spend my last penny to prevent the hideous scene for which preparation was being made.  He told me five hundred dollars, and I bade him go to Noah and promise that the money should be his as soon as I got back to Spanish Town.  He returned downcast from his mission.

“He say dat is all talk,” he said.  “It is for bimeby, but he want rebenge now; black man don’t fink nuffin’ ob bimeby.”

“But can’t we give him something now as earnest of what is to come?  There are our muskets; they will be useful to him, and are worth some dollars; offer them to him, and assure him on the word of an Englishman that he shall have the price of his freedom as soon as ever I can get back to my friends.”

He went away with this message, but came back again unsuccessful.

“He say hab plenty guns, and what good guns widout any powder and shots?  He hain’t got no powder; de guns hain’t worth more’n old sticks.  Hain’t Massa got no money?  If he seed de look of silver, now, dat would be somet’ing ’spectable.”