Roving Jack, The Pirate Hunter — page 123: what you’re looking at

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eee ee ee ROVING JACK, THE PIRATE HUNTER. 143 7 ee a ae “She might have put him a shirt on,” thought Simon, whose ideas of modesty were somewhat shocked. The woman beckoned manner than before. “I’m going to be cooked,” thought Simon, as with lingering footsteps, he followed his black guide, She conducted him towards the wigwam, and bade him enter, The hut was empty; but tkere was a bow, a quiver full of arrows, a spear for catching fish, ang a shield. . But the warrior to whom these arms belonged was not to be seen. The black lady motioned Simon to sit, and, then, with a tremendous box on the ears, sent her interest- ing and naked'progeny outside. “Don’t ’urt the poor boy, as he ain’t got no shirt on,” said Simon. The black woman grinned and began to stir up the embers of the fire. She then pointed to a large box which stood at the very back of the hut, and made signs that he should take something out of it. Simon Smut opened the box, and looked in, Oh! wonder of wonders ! There was the pride, the emblem of his sooty profession. There was the round-headed brush, the different lengths of handle, and the screws by which they should be fastened together. The lengths were neatly fastened in a bundle by two new leather straps, and the whole apparatus appeared never to have been used, Simon almost screamed with joy, and at once commenced putting the machine together, while the Indian woman really yelled with terror, as the white youth caused, what she fancied, a very tall tree to grow with surprising rapidity. But Simon suddenly shook his head with a most melancholy air, as he reflected that on the island there were no chimneys to sweep. The handsome new apparatus was useless. He heaved a deep sigh, and slowly began to restore it to its place. Other tools of his trade were there. A bran new scraper lay by the side of an unused hand-brush. The chest had evidently belonged to some specula- tive emigrant sweep who desired to carry the sooty profession into other lands, The black woman, during this time, had boiled some fish, and now motioned Simon to come and eat. He did so, The fish was fresh, and Simon made a very hearty supper. Supper, he found, it must be, for the sun was already declining. Nearly four and twenty hours had passed since in a more imperious he fell from the summit of the high and giddy mast; the ship was not in sight. No doubt his companions had given him up as lost—drowned. He changed his dress; threw himself on the couch of the defunct Indian warrior—for the lady had by signs made him understand that she was a widow—and slept soundly. The next morning he commenced a totally new course of life. No more work—no more drudgery—no more climbing of crooked flues, or scraping of tarry masts, He found that he had a black wife, whose duty was to wait on her white lord and master—to cook his meals and to attend to his every want. And a very pleasant style of life he found it, with only one drawback. In the midst of all‘his pleasure the remembrance of Poll Potts would occasionally intrude, and then the dream of happiness would be marred. The third day of his stay on the island he laid himself down upon the soft turf before his wigwam to indulge in a nap. The hot sun poured down through an opening in the trees upon his face, scorching him with its fiery rays. Though thus inconvenienced, he was loth to change his position. A brighié idea struck him. He commanded his wife to bring out the sweep- ing apparatus, The lady obeyed, though with very evident fear and trembling. Simon hoisted it until it shaded his face like an umbrella, and then once more laid himself down to sleep. His black lady-love posted herself near at hand to keep watch over the white master of her heart ; and the black piccaninny—— Well, the youngster amused himself by tickling the nose of his step-father with a slender stick. ‘‘Drat them muskeeters! Carn’t yer keep ’em avay from a cove’s nose?” exclaimed Simon. Suddenly the woman held up her finger to enjoin silence, and, motioning him to lie perfectly still, crawled into the adjacent thicket as noiselessly as a cat after,its prey, CHAPTER LXVI. THE PURSUIT—JACK SHEPPARD IN A ORITICAL POSITION. BEFORE Jack Sheppard had gone very far he began to grow reckless, and resolved to return to the scene of his late incarceration to see or hear if pos- sible how Blueskin had fared. Mr. Guffin, the beadle, and the mob had gone off at full speed along what is now known as Oxford CLRKE KOO