第17章 Chapter V.(3)

     
     
     
     　　My good friend， whose name was John Manning， wasan Englishman by birth， and a noble-hearted， generoussailor as ever walked a deck. He had lived in Boston—wasa tall， well-built man， about twenty-four years old， witha face somewhat pock-marked， but full of benevolentexpression.
     
     　　Nothing to vary the monotony of our daily life occurred，until we reached New-Orleans. On coming to the levee，and before the vessel was made fast， I saw Manning leapon shore and hurry away into the city. As he started off helooked back over his shoulder significantly， giving me tounderstand the object of his errand. Presently he returned，and passing close by me， hunched me with his elbow，with a peculiar wink， as much as to say， “it is all right.”
     
     　　The letter， as I have since learned， reached Sandy Hill.
     
     　　Mr. Northup visited Albany and laid it before GovernorSeward， but inasmuch as it gave no definite informationas to my probable locality， it was not， at that time，deemed advisable to institute measures for my liberation.
     
     　　It was concluded to delay， trusting that a knowledge ofwhere I was might eventually be obtained.
     
     　　A happy and touching scene was witnessed immediatelyupon our reaching the levee. Just as Manning left the brig，on his way to the post-office two men came up and calledaloud for Arthur. The latter， as he recognized them， wasalmost crazy with delight. He could hardly be restrainedfrom leaping over the brig’s side； and when they met soonafter， he grasped them by the hand， and clung to them along， long time. They were men from Norfolk， who hadcome on to New-Orleans to rescue him. His kidnappers，they informed him， had been arrested， and were thenconfined in the Norfolk prison. They conversed a fewmoments with the captain， and then departed with therejoicing Arthur.