“Gerald,” she implored earnestly—­“oh, repeat me that avowal.  Again tell me that you will be the devoted of your Matilda, in all things—­Gerald, swear most solemnly to me that you will—­my every hope of happiness depends upon it.”

How could he refuse, to such pleader, the repetition of his spontaneous vow?  Already were his lips opened to swear, before high Heaven, that, in all things earthly, he would obey her will, when he was interrupted by a well known voice, hastily exclaiming: 

“Who a debbel dat dare?”

Scarcely had these words been uttered, when they were followed apparently by a blow, then a bound, and then the falling of a human body upon the deck.  Gently disengaging his companion, who had clung to him with an air of alarm, Gerald turned to discover the cause of the interruption.  To his surprise, he beheld Sambo, whose post of duty was at the helm, lying extended on the deck, while, at the same moment, a sudden plunge was heard, as of a heavy body falling overboard.  The first impulse of the officer was to seize the helm, with a view to right the vessel, already swerving from her course; the second, to awaken the crew, who were buried in sleep on the forecastle.  These, with the habitual promptitude of their nature, speedily obeyed his call, and a light being brought, Gerald, confiding the helm to one of his best men, proceeded to examine the condition of Sambo.

It was evident that the aged negro had been stunned, but whether seriously injured, it was impossible to decide.  No external wound was visible, and yet his breathing was that of one who had received some severe bodily harm.  In a few minutes, however, he recovered his recollection, and the words he uttered, as he gazed wildly around, and addressed his master, were sufficient to explain the whole affair: 

“Damn him debbel, Massa Geral, he get safe off, him billain.”

“Ha, Desborough! it is then so?  Quick, put the helm about —­two of the lightest and most active into my canoe, and follow in pursuit.  The fellow is making for the shore, no doubt.  Now then, my lads,” as two of the crew sprang into the canoe that had been instantly lowered, “fifty dollars between you, recollect, if you bring him back.”

Although there needed no greater spur to exertion, than a desire both to please their officer, and to acquit themselves of a duty, the sum offered was not without its due weight.  In an instant, the canoe was seen scudding along the surface of the water, towards the shore, and, at intervals, as the anxious Gerald listened, he fancied he could distinguish the exertions of the fugitive swimmer from those made by the paddles of his pursuers.  For a time all was silent, when, at length, a deriding laugh came over the surface of the lake, that too plainly told, the settler had reached the shore, and was beyond all chance of capture.  In the bitterness of his disappointment, and heedless of the pleasure his change of purpose had procured him, Gerald could not help cursing his folly, in having suffered himself to be diverted from his original intention of descending to the prisoner’s place of confinement.  Had this been done, all might have been well.  He had now no doubt that the voices had proceeded from thence, and he was resolved, as soon as the absent men came on board, to institute a strict inquiry into the affair.