I had seldom assumed disguise, except when wearing Indian garb upon the war-trail. Yet in boyhood I had occasionally masqueraded as a negro so successfully as to deceive even my own family. With this in mind the resolve was taken that in no other guise than that of a foolish, huckstering darky could I hope to attain the guarded deck of that Spanish frigate. This offered only the barest chance of success, yet such chances had previously served me well, and must be trusted now. Opportunity frequently opens to the push of a venturesome shoulder.
Once determined upon this I set to work, perfecting each detail which might aid in the hazardous undertaking. Much was to be accomplished, and consequently it was late in the afternoon before the two of us, myself as much a negro to outward appearance as my sable companion, floated anxiously down the broad river in a battered old scow heaped high with every variety of country produce obtainable. Drifting with the current, I kept the blunt nose pointed directly toward the bulging side of the "Santa Maria," yet without venturing to glance in that direction, until a sharp challenge of the vigilant sentinel warned us to sheer off.
Slowly shipping the heavy steering oar, finding it difficult even in that moment of suspense to suppress a smile at the expression of terror on Alphonse's black face, I stood up, awed by the solemn massiveness of the vast bulk towering above me, now barely thirty feet away. For the first time I realized fully the desperation of my task, and my heart sank. But the gesticulations of the wrathful guard could no longer be ignored, and, smothering an exclamation of disgust at my momentary weakness, I nerved myself for the play.
"Caramba!" the fellow shouted roughly in his native tongue. "Stop there, you lazy niggers; don't let that boat drift any closer. Come, sheer off, or, by all the saints, I 'll blow a hole clear through the black hide of one of you!"
"Hold her back, boy!" I muttered hurriedly to the willing slave. "That soldier means to shoot."
Then I held up a handful of our choicest fruit into view.
"I have got plenty vegetables, an' lot fruit fer sell," I shouted eagerly in negro French, putting all the volume possible into my voice, hopeful my words might penetrate the hidden deck above. "Plenty 'tatoes, peaches, olibs--eberyting fer de oppercers."
"Don't want them--pull away, and be lively about it."
It was a moment of despair, every hope suspended in the balance; my heart beating like a trip-hammer with suspense. The thoroughly enraged guard lifted his gun to the shoulder; there was threat in his eyes, yet I ventured a desperate chance of one more word.