SABBATH AND CANOE.
They now approached an island with low bluffs, on which appeared a
considerable village, shining whitely amid the straight brown trunks of
a grove of pine-trees; but no people seemed moving about it, and they
saw but a single vessel at anchor in the thoroughfare or strait they
steered into--a canoe, which revealed on her bow, as they rounded to
beside her, a word neither Levin nor Jack could read, except by hearsay:
_The Methodist_.
"Jack," said Levin, "that was a big pine-tree the parson hewed his canoe
outen. She fell like cannon, going off inter the swamp. She's a'most
five fathom long, an' a man can lie down acrost her. She's to carry the
Methodis' preachers out to the islands."
"Hadn't we better wake _him_ up now?" said Jack Wonnell; "I 'spect you
want a drink, Levin?"
"Yes; I got a thirst on me like fire," Levin exclaimed. "I could do
somethin' wicked now, I 'spect, for a drink of that brandy."
Mooring against the shore, Levin went to his passenger, who was still in
deep sleep stretched upon the bare floor of the hold or cabin--a brawny,
wiry man, with strong chin and long jaws, and his reddish, dark beard
matted with the blood that had spilled from his disfigured eye, and now
disguised nearly one half his face, and gave him a wild, bandit look.
"Cap'n! mister! boss! wake up! We have come to Deil's Island."
The long man, lying on his back, seemed unable to turn over upon his
side, though he muttered in his stirred sleep such words as Levin could
not understand:
"The darbies, Patty! Make haste with them darbies! Put the nippers on
her wrists an' twist 'em.
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