She
dropped on the further side, just as Sylvia had done, and traced
Sylvia's steps to near the landing-place. Then she stopped short. Men
were loading boxes on a schooner at the end of the pier, and she could
see a tall officer in uniform standing on the deck of the vessel.
"Hullo, here's another small girl. Black one this time," said one of the
white sailors.
"Yas, Massa! Please whar' is my missy?" replied the little darky
eagerly.
"Safe in the cabin," nodded the good-natured man.
Estralla slipped behind a pile of boxes, and watched for a chance to get
on board the vessel without being seen. She had heard many tales, told
by the older colored people, of little children, yes, and grown people,
too, who had been enticed on board vessels in far-off African ports, and
carried off to be sold into slavery. Estralla remembered that all those
people in the stories were black; but who could tell but what there was
some place in the world where white people were sold? Anyway, she
resolved that wherever Missy Sylvia went she would go with her.
In a few moments she saw a chance to run over the gangplank. She went
straight toward the cabin door and peered in. Yes, there was Missy
Sylvia on the broad cushioned seat under the window. Very softly
Estralla tiptoed across the cabin. Just as she was about to speak
Sylvia's name the sound of approaching footsteps startled her, and, sure
that she would be sent on shore by whoever might discover her, she
looked about for a hiding-place, and the next instant she was curled up
under the very seat on which Sylvia was asleep.
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