As Tim and Red swung around the yard they saw the two sailors lounging by the door. One of them was large and ugly. He had a jolly nature and a great mop of black hair. The other was slight with bright blue eyes and light brown hair. Both sailors expected to be exchanged. The big man cheerfully bore the name of “Devil” given him by shipmates of a happier time. When he saw Tim and Red he raised his hand in greeting, and the little sailor smiled. “Hello, Devil,” said Tim. “What are you serving tonight?” The smaller sailor, whose name was Bell, said, “Chicken cooked in wine.” “Indeed,” said Red. “I’ll dine with the Navy tonight.” He smiled at Devil. “You boys are privileged characters. How does it happen Senn lets two Navy men work in the cookshack at once?” Devil screwed his face into a grin. “It’s because we’re such capital fellows and they trust us,” he said. “Nobody can trust an Army man.” Tim laughed softly. “And you cook for Senn sometimes.” Devil leaned forward and fixed Tim with a roguish stare. “I plan to poison him,” he whispered. There was a pounding at the gate before their time was up, and the prisoners were ordered into the building again. Tim was on kitchen duty tonight. He stood with Devil and Bell and watched as the guards opened the gate and the wagon came through. The colored boy, Tom Jackson, whom Tim had first seen in the vacant lot months before, was holding the reins. His mother, whom the prisoners called “Aunty,” sat beside him. As the wagon pulled up to the cookshack the woman’s thin face wrinkled into a smile. Devil said, “You’re late today.” The woman slapped her knee and laughed. “Sorry indeed.” Tom shouted, “Evening, Lieutenant. Evening, sailor men.” Aunty waited while her son and the white men unloaded the wagon and stored the food on the shelves in the kitchens. When they had nearly finished she beckoned to Tim. “Under the canvas just behind the seat you’ll find a barrel of salt pork. Share it all around.” “We have no money,” Tim said. “Did Captain Senn order the pork?” “Never mind,” the woman cackled, “but if anyone asks you, tell them you paid me fair and square.” Tim kept his face as straight as he could. “You didn’t steal it did you, Aunty?” Aunty went into gales of laughter, and a guard who watched from a little distance looked toward her uneasily. She screeched, “You shouldn’t talk like that to poor old Aunty. You unload the wagon now!” When they had finished unloading, Tom whipped the horse around, the guards opened the gate, and the wagon moved toward the end of the yard. Tim watched as the gate swung wide. The guards made Tom rein in when the wagon was halfway through. One of them hopped to the hub of a front wheel and stabbed the ragged canvas with the point of his bayonet. Aunty screamed, “Don’t you poke my canvas full of holes.” Addison came through the jailhouse door, and the guard who had been watching them mumbled something in the corporal’s ear.