Immodesty is the principal vice I do not possess. When we started to get back to The Gentle Hand clothed in the odour of sanctity and villainous liquor, I must say my heart failed me at the sight of the town. We halted at the outskirts and tacked ship, standing for the house of a conch, as the Bahama bank men are called. The mosquitoes and flies had by this time made life almost unbearable, and something had to be done. I objected to stealing on principle, but in practice I expected to err, for, if a suit of clothes could be found not too dirty to wear, I felt it my duty to quell my scruples in the interest of the self-respecting citizens of Nassau.

“Tim,” said I, “you little speckled leopard, you shall go in front. You have, at least, some large brown spots to cover your hide, while I’m as pure white as the coral road we’re walking on.”

Tim demurred at this.

“What’s the matter with you? Put your hulking 101carcass in front, and I’ll walk behind. There’s no use making fun of the thing. You strut about big enough on deck, glad enough to have any one notice you--Hi! there’s an’ ole nigger woman now,” and he crouched down in the long grass.

I sank instantly and hailed the old lady.

“Hi, there! Mammy, have you a spare--er--er pair--I mean an apron or two you could lend?”

“Lawd sakes! How yo’ scart me!” cried the old negress. “Where yo’ is, honey?” and she looked about her.

“We’re over here in the grass. Lost our clothes while swimming. Don’t come over, but just fetch out a bit of dunnage and run away, that’s a good ole gal,” I said.

“Run away! Huh! Who is you toe tell me to run away. I’se Mr. Curtis’ nigger, an’ I doan’ run fo’ no one, I jest tell yo’ dat,” and she advanced toward us.

“Ah, trot along,” growled Tim. “Get us some clothes, or we’ll take some. We haven’t time to fool with any blamed old nigger.”

She advanced close to us, and I noticed she held a small black baby in her arms. Tim edged behind me, and I tried to shove him in front.

“Land sakes alive!” she cried. “He, he, he, yah, yah! Well, I nebber. Yo’ is sho’ nuff nakid. Jest as nakid as this little babe under his clothes. 102Yah, yah, he is sho’ just as nakid as you is under his clothes. Well, I nebber--”

But we waited no longer. The situation was too humiliating, and we sprang to our feet and dashed down the path into the scrub.

“What the deuce will we do?” I asked, when we were out of sight. “If she wasn’t a woman, I’d rip her clothes off pretty quick and make shift of her skirt.”

“S’pose we lay for some man, then,” said Tim. “Seems to me you might turn your knowledge of scrappin’ to some account.”

“I’ve a notion to practise a bit on you, you speckled beauty,” said I, angrily. “It’s your foolishness that got us in this fix.”

“Here comes a feller your size. Try him.”

I turned and followed his gaze, and there, sure enough, loomed a huge black conch with a bucketful of sour-sops in either hand, striding up the path. Hung over his shoulder was a long blacksnake whip, such as overseers sometimes used upon refractory slaves.

“Hi, there, uncle,” I cried, “I would like to buy some sops,” and we both stepped forth into view.

The fellow’s ugly visage wrinkled, and he set his buckets upon the ground.

“Who is yo’?” he asked, sourly.

103“We? Why, we are visitors, friends of Mr. Curtis,” I said. “We left our clothes over there at the inlet, and some son of a polecat ran off with them. Give us some sops and give us a shift. We’ll pay you well for it.”

“Whar’s yo’ munny?” he growled.

“In our clothes. Sink you for a fool nigger, you don’t suppose we have pockets in our skins, do you?”

............