Toozle was, in his way, as much delighted to see Poopy as he had been to see Alice;—­no, we are wrong, not quite so much as that, but still extremely glad to see her, and evinced his joy by extravagant sounds and actions.  He also evinced his scorn for the opinion that some foolish persons hold, namely, that black people are not as good as white, by rushing into Poopy’s arms and attempting to lick her black face as he had tried to do to Alice.  As the dark-skinned girl had no objection (for tastes differ, you see), and received the caresses with a quiet “Hee! hee!” Toozle was extremely gratified.

Now, it happened that Jo Bumpus, oppressed with a feeling of concern for his former captain, and with a feeling of doubt as to the stirring events in which he was an actor being waking realities, had wandered up the mountain-side in order to indulge in profound philosophical reflections.

Happening to hear the noise caused by the joyful meeting which we have just described, he turned aside to see what all the “row” could be about, and thus came unexpectedly on Alice and her friends.

About the same time it chanced (for things sometimes do happen by chance in a very remarkable way, it chanced that Will Corrie, being also much depressed about Gascoyne), resolved to take into his confidence Dick Price, the boatswain, with whom during their short voyage together he had become intimate.

He found that worthy seated on a cask at the end of the rude pile of coral rocks that formed the quay of Sandy Cove, surrounded by some of his shipmates, all of whom, as well as himself, were smoking their pipes and discussing things in general.

Corrie went forward and pulled Dick by the sleeve.

“Hallo, boy! what do you want with me?” said the boatswain.

“I want to speak to you.”

“Well, lad, fire away.”

“Yes, but I want you to come with me,” said the boy, with an anxious and rather mysterious look.

“Very good—­heave ahead,” said the boatswain, getting up, and following Corrie with a peculiarly nautical roll.

After he had been led through the settlement and a considerable way up the mountain in silence, the boatswain suddenly stopped and said:  “Hallo! hold on; my timbers won’t stand much more o’ this sort o’ thing.  I was built for navigatin’ the seas,—­I was not for cruisin’ on the land.  We’re far enough out of ear-shot, I s’pose in this here bit of a plantation.  Come, what have ye got to say to me?  You ain’t a goin’ to tell me the Freemason’s word, are ye?  For, if so, don’t trouble yourself; I wouldn’t listen to it on no account w’atever.  It’s too mysterious, that is, for me.”

“Dick Price,” said Corrie, looking up in the face of the seaman, with a serious expression that was not often seen on his round countenance, “you’re a man.”

The boatswain looked down at the youthful visage in some surprise.

“Well, I s’pose I am,” said he, stroking his beard complacently.