“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 as the sun sank into the sea, the gig, cutter, and long-boat of the slaver were lowered into the water; and, under the darkness of night, the “bales” were transported to the shore, and landed in the little cove whence the skiff of the slave-merchant had put out.
Amongst them were the twenty Mandingoes, the attendants of the prince, and the “wenches,” designed for improving the breed on Jessuron’s plantation: for the slave-merchant was also a land-proprietor and planter.
The skiff was seen returning to the shore, a cable’s-length in the wake of the other boats. Now, however, a fourth personage appeared in it, seated in the stern, face to face with the owner. The gaily-coloured costume, even in the darkness, shining over the calm shadowy surface of the sea, rendered it easy to recognise this individual as the Foolah prince. The wolf and the lamb were sailing in the same boat.
Volume One—Chapter Eight.
A Handsome Offer.
On the day after the slave-ship had landed her cargo, and at an early hour in the morning, Mr. Vaughan, looking from the front window of his house, perceived a solitary horseman approaching by the long avenue.
As the stranger drew nearer, the animal he bestrode appeared gradually to transform itself into a