The Maroon. Reid Mayne

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СКАЧАТЬ he repeated; “what ish all thish? S’help my Gott! theesh fellows are not shlaves, are they?”

      “No, Mister Jessuron, no. They ain’t slaves, not all on ’em ain’t. That ’ere fine fellow, in silk and satin, air a owner o’ slaves hisself. He air a prince.”

      “What dosh you say, Captin Showler? a prinshe?”

      “Ye ain’t ’stonished at that, air ye? ’Tain’t the fust time I’ve had an African prince for a passenger. This yeer’s his Royal Highness the Prince Cingües, son o’ the Grand Sultan of Foota-toro. The other fellows you see thar by him are his attendants – courteers as waits on him. That with the yellow turban’s ‘gold stick;’ him in blue ’s ‘silver stick;’ an’ t’other fellow’s ‘groom o’ the chamber,’ I s’pose.”

      “Sultan of Foota-toro!” exclaimed the slave-merchant, still holding up the blue umbrella in surprise; “King of the Cannibal Islandsh! Aha, a good shoke, Captain Showler! But, serious, mine friend, what for hash you tricked them out in this way? They won’t fetch a joey more in the market for all theesh fine feathers.”

      “Seerus, Mister Jessuron, they’re not for the market. I sw’ar to ye the fellur’s a real Afrikin prince.”

      “African fiddleshtick!” echoed the slave-merchant with an incredulous shrug. “Come, worthy captin, what’sh the mashquerade about?”

      “Not a bit of that, ole fellur! ’Sure ye the nigger’s a prince, and my passenger – nothing more or less.”

      “S’help you gott, ish it so?”

      “So help me that!” emphatically replied the skipper. “It’s just as I’ve told ye, Mister Jessuron.”

      “Blesh my soul! – a passenger, you shay?”

      “Yes; and he’s paid his passage, too – like a prince, as he is.”

      “But what’s hish business here in Shamaica?”

      “Ah! that’s altogether a kewrious story, Mister Jessuron. You’ll hardly guess his bizness, I reckon?”

      “Lesh hear it, friend Showler.”

      “Well, then, the story air this: ’Bout twelve months ago an army o’ Mandingoes attacked the town of Old Foota-toro, and, ’mong other plunder, carried off one o’ his daughters – own sister to the young fellur you see there. They sold her to a West India trader; who, in course, brought the girl over here to some o’ the islands; which one ain’t known. Old Foota-toro, like the rest o’ ’em, thinks the slaves are all fetched to one place; and as he’s half beside himself ’bout the loss of this gurl – she war his favourite, and a sort of a court belle among ’em – he’s sent the brother to search her out, and get her back from whoever hez purchased her on this side. There’s the hul story for you.”

      The expression that had been gathering on the countenance of the Jew, while this relation was being made to him, indicated something more than a common interest in the tale – something beyond mere curiosity. At the same time, he seemed as if trying to conceal any outward sign of emotion, by preserving, as much as possible, the rigidity of his features.

      “Blesh my soul!” he exclaimed, as the skipper had concluded. “Ash I live, a wonderful shtory! But how ish he ever to find hish sister? He might ash well look for a needle in a hayshtack.”

      “Wall, that’s true enough,” replied the slave-skipper. “As for that,” added he, with an air of stoical indifference, “’taint no business o’ mine. My affair hez been to carry the young fellur acrost the Atlantic; an’ I’m willin’ to take him back on the same tarms, and at the same price, if he kin pay it.”

      “Did he pay you a goodsh price?” inquired the Jew, with evident interest in the answer.

      “He paid like a prince, as I’ve told you. D’ye see that batch o’ yellow Mandingoes by the windlass yonder?”

      “Yesh-yesh!”

      “Forty there air – all told.”

      “Wen?”

      “Twenty on ’em I’m to have for fetchin’ him acrost. Cheap enough, ain’t it?”

      “Dirt sheep, friend Showler. The other twenty?”

      “They are hisn. He’s brought ’em with him to swop for the sister – when he finds her.”

      “Ah, yesh! if he finds the girl.”

      “In coorse, if he finds her.”

      “Ach!” exclaimed the Jew, with a significant shrug of his shoulders; “that will not be an easy bishness, Captin Showler.”

      “By Christopher Columbus, old fellow!” said the trader, apparently struck with an idea; “now I think of it, you might gie him some help in the findin’ o’ her. I know no man more likely than yourself to be able to pilot him. You know everybody in the island, I reckon. No doubt he will pay you well for your trouble. I’m rayther anxious he should succeed. King Foota-toro is one of my best sources of supply; and if the gurl could be found and took back, I know the old nigger would do the handsome to me on my next trip to the coast.”

      “Well, worthy captin, I don’t know that there’s any hope, and won’t hold out any to hish royal highnesh the prince. I’m not as able to get about ash I ushed to was; but I’ll try my besht for you. As you shay, I might do something towardsh putting him in the way. Well, we’ll talk it over; but let ush first settle our other bishness, or all the world will be aboard. Twenty, you shay, are his?”

      “Twenty of them ’ere Mandingoes.”

      “Hash he anything besides?”

      “In cash? no, not a red cent. Men and women are the dollars of his country. He hez the four attendants, you see. They air his slaves like the others.”

      “Twenty-four, then, in all. Blesh my soul! What a lucky fellow ish this prinsh. Maybe I can do something for him; but we can talk it over in the cabin, and I’m ready for something to drink, worthy Showler.”

      “Ah!” he exclaimed, as, on turning round, he perceived the group of girls before mentioned. “Blesh my soul! Some likely wenches. Just the sort for chambermaids,” added he, with a villainously significant look. “How many of that kind hash you got, good Showler?”

      “About a dozen,” jocularly responded the skipper; “some splendid breeders among ’em, if you want any for that bizness.”

      “I may – I may. Gad! it’s a valuable cargo – one thing with another! Well, let ush go below,” added he, turning towards the companion. “What’s in your locker? I musht have a drink before I can do bishness. Likely wenches! Gad – a valuable cargo!”

      Smacking his lips, and snapping his fingers as he talked, the old reprobate descended the companion stairway – the captain of the slaver following close behind him.

      We know not, except by implication, the details of the bargaining that took place below. The negotiation was a secret one – as became the nature of any transaction between two such characters as a slave-dealer and a slave-stealer.

      It resulted, however, in the purchase of the whole cargo; and in so short a time, that just СКАЧАТЬ