It was a typical steamer bunkhouse in which I found myself, evidently the abiding place of some one of the boat's petty officers, exceedingly cramped as to space, containing two narrow berths, a stool and a washstand, but with ample air and light.

The slats across the window permitted me a view of the river, and the low-lying shore beyond, past which we were slowly moving.

The sun was just rising above the eastern horizon, and the water reflected a purple tinge.
With no desire to return immediately to the deck, I seated myself on the stool to consider the situation.
Fate had played a strange trick, and I knew not how best to turn it to advantage.

One thing only was clear; whatever was to be accomplished, I would have to do it alone--nowhere could I turn for help.

In the first place Kirby undoubtedly had the law with him, and besides was among friends--those who would naturally believe him, and were loyal to the institution of slavery.