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When Nigel had slept about five minutes as he thought he was awakened by Moses. "Don't make a noise, Massa Nadgel! Dere may be spies in de camp for all we knows, so we mus' git off like mice. Canoe's ready an' massa waitin'; we gib you to de last momint." In a few minutes our hero was sleepily following the negro through the woods to the spot where the canoe was in waiting.
"God help him!" cried Nigel in sudden alarm, "the ledge has been carried away and he cannot advance! Stay by the boat, Moses, I will run to help him!" "No, Massa Nadgel," returned the negro, "I go to die wid 'im. Boat kin look arter itself." He sprang on shore as he spoke, and dashed up the mountain-side like a hunted hare. Our hero looked at Winnie for an instant in hesitation.
"Now, Moses; what d'ye think of all that?" Profundity unfathomable sat on the negro's sable brow as he replied, "Massa Nadgel, I don't bery well know what to t'ink." "But remember, Moses, before we go further, that I tell you all this in strict confidence; not a word of it must pass your lips."
I want to have a talk." "Das what I's allers wantin', Massa Nadgel; talkin's my strong point, if I hab a strong point at all." They went together to the edge of a cliff on the hill-top, whence they could see an almost illimitable stretch of tropical wilderness bathed in a glorious flood of moonlight, and sat down.
He has been known to say, with a solemnity that might tickle the humorous and horrify the timid, that he wouldn't "hab dat game leg made straight agin! no, not for a hundred t'ousand pounds. 'Cause why? it was an eber-present visible reminder dat once upon a time he had de libes ob massa and Nadgel in his arms a-hangin' on to his game leg, an' dat, t'rough Gracious Goodness, he sabe dem bof!" Ha!
He made no pretence to shroud things in mystery. "You mus' know, Massa Nadgel," he said, as they slowly drew near to the island, "I's 'fraid ob 'im dough I lub 'im." "But why do you love him, Moses?" "'Cause he sabe my life an' set me free." "Indeed? well, that is good reason. And why do you fear him?" "Da's what I don' know, massa," replied the negro with a puzzled look. "Is he harsh, then?"
"Help you'self, Massa Nadgel, an' pass 'im forid." Without helping himself he passed it on to Van der Kemp, who drew his knife, sliced off a wing with a mass of breast, and returned the rest. "Always help yourself before passing the food in future," said the hermit; "we don't stand on ceremony here." Nigel at once fell in with their custom, tore off the remaining drumstick and began.
"No, no, Massa Nadgel 'snot dat. But he was awrful fond ob his wife an' darter, an' I know he's got a photogruff ob 'em bof togidder, an' I t'ink he'd sooner lose his head dan lose dat, for I've seed him look at 'em for hours, an' kiss 'em sometimes w'en he t'ought I was asleep." The return of the hermit here abruptly stopped the conversation.
"Das true, Massa Nadgel," observed Moses, who entertained profound admiration for anything that sounded like proverbial philosophy. "De purfesser am an affectionit creeter. 'Pears to me dat he lubs de whole creation. He kills an' tenderly stuffs 'most eberyt'ing he kin lay hands on.
"Sot down, Massa Nadgel," said that sable worthy, as he stuffed his mouth full of rice; "it's easier to sot dan to stand w'en its eart'quakin'." Nigel sat down with a tendency to laugh, for at that moment he chanced to glance at the rafters above, where he saw a small anxious-faced monkey gazing down at him. He was commenting on this creature when another prolonged shock of earthquake came.
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