Then Cludde made me tell him what had happened to me.  He fell asleep before I had finished my story, but I lay for long hours pondering this baffling problem, and wishing that I had Joe Punchard and my messmates of the Dolphin instead of negroes, whom I could scarce trust.  ’Twas clear, as Cludde had said, that we were no match for the ruffians whom Vetch had about him; in open fight we should be worsted, and maybe hasten the very catastrophe I dreaded.  Even if we should attempt a surprise by night I could not hope for success, for the least check would turn the negroes into a pack of howling cowards.  We could only succeed by a ruse, and though I cudgelled my brains until all my thoughts were in a whirl I could invent no plan which had the least promise.

And it was Wednesday night!  If we had not rescued Mistress Lucy within forty-eight hours I had a strong presentiment that ’twould be too late.

I sank at last into a sleep of sheer exhaustion.  When I awoke, day had dawned, and with the return to consciousness there came a sudden recollection of something told me by Uncle Moses—­something that explained the fact that only two horsemen had ridden in pursuit of us.  All the horses of the estate had been employed in conveying sugar to Dry Harbor.  They had been gone a day; when would they return?

I sprang up in haste to get an answer to this question; for on it depended the chances of a plot which had flashed upon my mind.  Uncle Moses told me that, if the usual course were followed, the wagons would return on Friday, either empty, or with loads of salt fish, which formed the staple of the negro’s food.  I asked what men would accompany the convoy, and learned that the wagoners were negroes, and that one or two white men would be in charge.

This information threw a ray of hope upon my dark forebodings.  If we could but win to a position where the returning convoy might be intercepted, I made no doubt we could overpower the white men—­overseers of the plantations; as to the negro drivers, I held them of little account.  There was one possible danger:  that the customary escort might be augmented by some of Vetch’s buccaneers.  But I saw no likelihood of this, for however careful Vetch might be in his watch over Mistress Lucy, he would have no reason to be specially vigilant over the conduct of the ordinary operations of the estate.

The question was, could we by any means come unobserved at a place where the wagons could be intercepted?  I put it to Uncle Moses, who answered me readily enough, not seeing the drift of it.  If we crossed the swamp, and retraced our way through the forest, we could skirt the whole length of the plantation without fear of being discovered until we arrived within a very short distance of the road to Spanish Town.  We should then have to cross the road in the open, but having crossed it, we should come in less than a furlong to another clump of woodland, and passing through this, avoiding the plantain groves which filled that portion of the estate, we should reach the rough track leading to Dry Harbor, at a point about three miles from the big house.  ’Twas a round in all of some twenty-five miles, and, as Uncle Moses assured me, if we were reasonably cautious we should run no risks save at the crossing of the road.