“Read thy Bible, Susanna,” answered her husband.  “Cursed be Canaan.  A servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren—­thus say the Scriptures.”

“Well, now,” broke in the Captain, “if they have souls, they ’ve either got to save ’em or lose ’em as I jedge it; and if they never have a chance to hear the Plan of Salvation, they ’re bound to be lost anyway.  Bringin’ ’em over here gives them their only chance to escape damnation, according to my notion.”

“Hast thou ever brought over a cargo of slaves thyself?” asked the Goodwife.

“Nay,” admitted the Captain, “but I sailed once on a slaver, and I own I liked not to see the poor critters when they were lured away.  It seemed they could n’t rightly sense that ’t was for their eternal welfare, and I never felt called to set their feet in the way of Salvation by that means myself.  I reckon I ’m not more than chicken-hearted, if ye come to that.”

The meal was now over, the dusk had deepened as they lingered about the table, and Goodwife Pepperell rose to light a bayberry candle and set it on the chimney-piece.

“Sit ye down by the fire again, while Nancy and I wash the dishes,” she said cordially.

“Thank ye kindly,” said the Captain, “but I must budge along.  It ’s near dark, and Timothy—­that ’s my mate—­will be wondering if I ’ve been et up by a shark.  It ’s going to be a clear night after the storm.”

The children slept so soundly after the adventures of the day that their mother called them three times from the foot of the ladder in the early dawn of the following morning without getting any response.  Then she mounted to the loft and shook Daniel gently.  “Wake thee,” she said. “’T is long past cock-crow, and Saturday at that.”

Daniel opened his eyes feebly and was off to sleep again at once.  “Daniel,” she said, shaking him harder, “thy father is minded to take thee to Plymouth.”

Before the words were fairly out of her mouth Daniel had popped out of bed as if he had been shot from a gun.  “Oh, Mother,” he shouted, “am I really to go?  Shall I go clear to Providence?  Doth Captain Sanders know?  When do we start?”

“Thy father arranged it with the Captain last night,” answered his mother.  “He will come for thee in the little boat on Monday morning and will row thee and thy father to the sloop, which will sail at high tide.  While thy father makes the journey across the Cape thou wilt go on to Provincetown with the Captain, or mayhap, if visitors are now permitted in the Colony, my aunt, the Governor’s lady, will keep thee with her until thy father returns.  She would like well to see my son, I know, and I trust thou wilt be a good lad and mind thy manners.  Come, Nancy, child, I need thy help!” Then she disappeared down the ladder to stir the hasty pudding, which was already bubbling in the pot.

When she was gone, Nancy flung herself upon the mattress and buried her face in the bed-clothes.  “Oh, Daniel,” she cried, smothering a sob, “what if the p-p-pirates should get thee?”