Sail was packed upon the sloops. All that night they drove, a red lamp burning astern. At dawn, when the sea below the woods was like steel, though tremulous in pale light, they were standing in to a jetty on the Accomac side. It was dusk in the clearing where the house stood; but the stumps of felled trees stood up black, a troop of dwarfs; and the cattle moved dimly among them, cropping grass with a wrench. Casks stood at the edge of the jetty; there was a gleam upon their hoops. There was a gleam of dew upon the forest, as a little dawn-wind, stirring the birds, made a patter of dropping. A fire with a waving flame burned under a pent-house, making a thick, sweet smoke, which floated everywhere, smelling of burning gum, driving away the mosquitoes. When the flame leaped up, brightly shaking, it showed a tilted cart, with a man under a red robe asleep against the wheel. Quietly, before the light was come, they made the sloops fast and stepped ashore. They stamped to kill the numbness in their feet; then, rousing the sleeper, they helped him to prepare a breakfast, of apples, fish, and new cider, before trading for his tobacco. All that day they plied along the Accomac coast, Cammock in the _Peach_, Margaret in the _Daisy_, buying tobacco at every clearing, paying the planters in goods. When the _Peach_ sloop was full, Cammock drove her back, with her boom-end under, to sling the tobacco into the _Broken Heart_ at dawn, and to fill up again with trade. Margaret’s keenness puzzled him; the man was on fire. “I thought he was one of these dreamy fellows,” he said to himself. “But he drives a tight bargain, and he goes at it like a tiger.” He went aboard the ship, putting all hands to the work of clearing and reloading the sloop. Mr. Cottrill met him at the gangway with word that two of their best men had deserted from the trading-booth, taking with them about fifty pounds’ worth of goods; that they had gone off at sunset, just as the sloops cast off; and that one of the men aboard had heard that they were going for a run with a gang of Indian-snatchers. Worse still. The foretopmast was sprung at the heel, and the new spar couldn’t be ready for a week. Cammock had been at a driving strain for a couple of days; but, like most hard cases, he found the second day a day of exaltation, of nervous excitement. The news pleased him; it occupied his mind. He bade his men get out trade from all three hatches as fast as the winches could sway it out, while he with a dozen men went ashore in the sloop, still half full of tobacco. As soon as he got ashore he struck the booth, crammed all the goods into the sloop, lock, stock, and barrel, and carried them back aboard. As they were thrust into the sloop he made a rough inventory.