They arrived at Savannah early in the evening, and William having brought his master something to eat, they went on board a steamer bound for Charleston, South Carolina. Mr. Johnson, as Ellen was now called, deemed it most prudent to retire to his berth immediately. William, fearing this might seem strange to the other passengers, made a great fuss warming flannels and opodeldoc at the stove, informing them that his young master was an invalid travelling to Philadelphia in hopes of getting cured. He did not tell them the disease was Slavery; he called it inflammatory rheumatism. The next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Johnson was seated by the captain of the boat, and, as his right hand was tied in a sling, his servant, William, cut up his food for him. The captain remarked, "You have a very attentive boy, sir; but I advise you to watch him like a hawk when you get North. Several gentlemen have lately lost valuable niggers among them cut-throat Abolitionists." A hard-looking slave-trader, with red eyes, and bristly beard, was sitting opposite. He laid down a piece of chicken he was eating, and with his thumbs stuck in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, said: "I wouldn't take a nigger North under no consideration. Now, if you'd like to sell that 'ere boy, I'll pay you for him in silver dollars, on this 'ere board. What do you say, stranger?" Mr. Johnson replied, "I do not wish to sell him, sir; I could not get on well without him." "You'll _have_ to get on without him, if you take him to the North," continued the slave-trader. "I am an older cove than you are, and I reckon I have had more dealings with niggers. I tell you, stranger, that boy will never do you any good if you take him across Mason and Dixon's line. I can see by the cut of his eye that he is bound to run away as soon as he can get a chance." Mr. Johnson replied, "I think not, sir. I have great confidence in his fidelity." Whereupon the slave-trader began to swear about niggers in general. A military officer, who was also travelling with a servant, said to Mr. Johnson: "Excuse me, sir, for saying I think you are likely to spoil that boy of yours by saying 'thank you' to him. The only way to make a nigger toe the mark, and to keep him in his place, is to storm at him like thunder. Don't you see that when I speak to my Ned, he darts like lightning? If he didn't, I'd skin him."