Mr Midshipman Easy (19 page)

“The idea is very good, Mesty,—why should we not do so?”

“Because I not like run de risk to go ashore—all for what? to go back, boil de kettle for all gentlemans—I very happy here, Massa,” replied Mesty, carelessly.

“And I am very miserable,” replied Jack; “but, however, I am completely in your power, Mesty, and I must, I suppose, submit.”

“What you say, Massa Easy—submit to me?—no sar, when you are on board
Harpy
as officer, you talk with me as friend, and not treat me as negro servant. Massa Easy, I feel—I feel what I am,” continued Mesty, striking his bosom, “I feel it here—for all first time since I leave my country, I feel that I am someting; but, Massa Easy, I love my friend as much as I hate my enemy—and you nebber submit to me—I too proud to allow dat, 'cause, Massa Easy—I am a man—and once, I was a prince.”

Although Mesty did not perhaps explain by words half so well as he did by his countenance the full tide of feeling which was overflowing in his heart, Jack fully understood and felt it. He extended his hand to Mesty, and said—

“Mesty,—that you have been a prince, I care little about, although I doubt it not, because you are incapable of a lie; but you are a man, and I respect you, nay, I love you as a friend—and with my will we never part again.”

Mesty took the hand offered by Jack. It was the first peace-offering ever extended to him since he had been torn away from his native land—the first compliment, the first tribute, the first acknowledgment, perhaps, that he was not an inferior being; he pressed it in silence, for he could not speak; but could the feelings which were suffocating the negro but have been laid before sceptics, they must have acknowledged that at that moment they were all and only such as could do honour, not only to the prince, but even to the Christian. So much was Mesty affected with what had happened, that when he dropped the hand of our hero, he went down into the cabin, finding it impossible to continue the conversation, which was not renewed until the next morning.

“What is your opinion, Mesty? Tell me, and I will be governed by it.”

“Den, sar, I tell you I tink it right that they first come and ask to come on board before you take them—and, sar, I tink it also right as we are but two and they are five, dat dey first eat all their provisions. Let 'em starve plenty, and den dey come on board tame enough.”

“At all events,” replied Jack, “the first overtures of some kind or another must come from them. I wish I had something to do—I do not much like this cooping up on board ship.”

“Massa, why you no talk with Pedro?”

“Because I cannot speak Spanish.”

“I know dat, and dat why I ask de question. You very sorry when you meet the two pretty women in the ship, you not able to talk with them, I guess that.”

“I was very sorry, I grant,” replied Jack.

“Well, Massa Easy, by-and-bye we see more Spanish girl. Why not talk all day with Pedro, and den you able to talk with dem.”

“Upon my word, Mesty, I never had an idea of your value. I will learn all the Spanish that I can,” replied Jack, who was glad to have employment found for him, and was quite disgusted with the articles of war.

As for the men on shore, they continued the same course as before, one day succeeded another, and without variety. It was, however, to be observed that the fire was now seldomer lighted, which proved their fuel scarce, and the weather was not so warm as it had been, for it was now October. Jack learnt Spanish from Pedro for a month, during which there was no appearance of submission on the part of the mutineers, who, for the first fortnight, when intoxicated, used to come down and fire at Jack or Mesty when they made their appearance. Fortunately drunken men are not good marksmen; but latterly this had been discontinued, because they had expended their ammunition, and they appeared to have almost forgotten that the ship was there, for they took no notice of her whatever.

On the other hand, Jack had decided that if he waited there a year the overtures should come from them who had mutinied; and now, having an occupation, he passed his time very quietly, and the days flew so fast that two months had actually been run off the calendar before he had an idea of it.

One evening as they were down in the cabin, for the evenings had now become very cold, Jack asked Mesty whether he had any objection to give him a history of his life. Mesty replied that if he wished he was ready to talk, and at a nod from our hero Mesty commenced as follows.

ALTHOUGH we have made the African negro hitherto talk in his own mixed jargon, yet, as we consider that, in a long narration, it will be tedious to the reader, we shall now translate the narrative part into good English, merely leaving the conversation with which it may be broken, in its peculiar dialect.

“The first thing I recollect,” said Mesty, “is, that I was carried on the shoulders of a man with my legs hanging down before, and holding on by his head.

“Every one used to look at me and get out of the way, as I rode through the town and market-place, so loaded with heavy gold ornaments that I could not bear them, and was glad when the women took them off; but as I grew older I became proud of them, because I knew that I was the son of a king. I lived happy. I did nothing but shoot my arrows, and I had a little sword which I was taught to handle, and the great captains who were about my father showed me how to kill my enemies. Sometimes I laid under the shady trees, sometimes I was with the women belonging to my father; sometimes I was with him and played with the skulls, and repeated the names of those to whom they had belonged, for in our country, when we kill our enemies, we keep their skulls as trophies.

“As I grew older, I did as I pleased; I beat the women and the slaves; I think I killed some of the latter—I know I did one, to try whether I could strike well with my two-handed sword made of hard and heavy wood,—but that is nothing in our country. I longed to be a great captain, and I thought of nothing else but war and fighting, and how many skulls I should have in my possession when I had a house and wives of my own, and I was no longer a boy. I went out in the woods to hunt, and I stayed for weeks. And one day I saw a panther basking in the sun, waving his graceful tail. I crept up softly till I was behind a rock within three yards of it, and drawing my arrow to the head, I pierced him through the body. The animal bounded up in the air, saw me, roared and made a spring, but I dropped behind the rock, and he passed over me. He turned again to me, but I had my knife ready, and, as he fixed his talons into my shoulder and breast, I pierced him to the heart. This was the happiest day of my life; I had killed a panther without assistance, and I had the wounds to show. Although I was severely hurt, I thought nothing of it. I took off the skin as my blood dropped down and mixed with that of the beast—but I rejoiced in it. Proudly did I go into the town dripping with gore and smarting with pain. Every one extolled the feat, called me a hero and a great captain. I filed my teeth, and I became a man.

“From that day I ranked among the warriors, and, as soon as my wounds were healed, I went out to battle. In three fights I had gained five skulls, and when I returned they weighed me out gold. I then had a house and wives, and my father appointed me a Caboceer. I wore the plume of eagle and ostrich feathers, my dress was covered with fetishes, I pulled on the boots with bells, and with my bow and arrows slung on my back, my spear and blunderbuss, my knives and my double-handed sword, I led the men to battle and brought back skulls and slaves. Every one trembled at my name, and, if my father threatened to send me out, gold-dust covered the floor of his hall of council—Now, I boil the kettle for the young gentlemen!

“There was one man I liked. He was not a warrior, or I should have hated him, but he was brought up with me in my father's house, and was a near relative. I was grave and full of pride, he was gay and fond of music; and although there was no music to me equal to the tom-tom, yet I did not always wish for excitement. I often was melancholy, and then I liked to lay my head in the lap of one of my wives, under the shady forest behind my house, and listen to his soft music. At last he went to a town near us where his father lived, and as he departed I gave him gold-dust. He had been sent to my father to be formed into a warrior, but he had no strength of body, and he had no soul; still I loved him, because he was not like myself. There was a girl in the town who was beautiful; many asked for her as their wife, but her father had long promised her to my friend; he refused even the greatest warrior of the place, who went away in wrath to the fetishman, and throwing him his gold armlets asked for a fetish against his rival. It was given, and two days before he was to be married my friend died. His mother came to me, and it was enough. I put on my war dress, I seized my weapons, sat for a whole day with my skulls before me, working up my revenge, called out my men, and that night set off for the town where the warrior resided, killed two of his relatives and carried off ten of his slaves. When he heard what I had done, he trembled and sent gold; but I knew that he had taken the girl home as his wife, and I would not listen to the old man who sought to pacify me. Again I collected a larger force and attacked him in the night: we fought, for he was prepared with his men, but after a struggle he was beaten back. I fired his house, wasted his provision ground, and taking away more slaves, I returned home with my men, intending soon to assault him again. The next day there came more messengers, who knelt in vain; so they went to my father, and many warriors begged him to interfere. My father sent for me, but I would not listen; the warriors spoke, and I turned my back: my father was wroth and threatened, the warriors brandished their two-handed swords—they dared to do it; I looked over my shoulder with contempt, and I returned to my house. I took down my skulls, and I planned. It was evening, and I was alone, when a woman covered up to the eyes approached; she fell down before me as she exposed her face.

“‘I am the girl who was promised to your relation, and I am now the wife of your enemy. I shall be a mother. I could not love your relation, for he was no warrior. It is not true that my husband asked for a fetish—it was I who bought it, for I would not wed him. Kill me and be satisfied.'

“She was very beautiful, and I wondered not that my enemy loved her— and she was with child—it was his child, and she had fetished my friend to death. I raised my sword to strike, and she did not shrink: it saved her life. 'Thou art fit to be the mother of warriors,' said I, as I dropped my sword, ‘and thou shalt be my wife, but first his child shall be born, and I will have thy husband's skull.'

“‘No, no,' replied she, ‘I will be the mother of no warriors but by my present husband, whom I love; if you keep me as your slave I will die.'

“I told her she said foolish things, and sent her to the women's apartment, with orders to be watched—but she hardly had been locked up before she drew her knife, plunged it into her heart, and died.

“When the king my father heard this he sent me a message—‘Be satisfied with the blood that has been shed, it is enough;' but I turned away, for I wished for mine enemy's skull. That night I attacked him again, and met him hand to hand; I killed him, and carried home his skull, and I was appeased.

“But all the great warriors were wroth, and my father could not restrain them. They called out their men, and I called out my men, and I had a large body, for my name was terrible. But the force raised against me was twice that of mine, and I retreated to the bush—after awhile we met and fought, and I killed many, but my men were too few, and were overpowered—the fetish had been sent out against me, and their hearts melted; at last I sank down with my wounds, for I bled at every pore, and I told my men who were about me to take off my feathers, and my dress and boots, that my enemies might not have my skull: they did so, and I crawled into the bush to die. But I was not to die; I was recovering, when I was discovered by those who steal men to sell them: I was bound, and fastened to a chain with many more. I, a prince and a warrior, who could show the white skulls of his enemies—I offered to procure gold, but they derided me; they dragged me down to the coast, and sold me to the Whites. Little did I think, in my pride, that I should be a slave. I knew that I was to die, and hoped to die in battle: my skull would have been more prized than all the gold in the earth, and my skin would have been stuffed and hung up in a fetish-house—instead of which, I now boil the kettle for the young gentlemen!”

“Well,” replied Jack, “that's better than being killed and stuffed.”

“Mayhap it is,” replied Mesty, “I tink very different now dan I tink den— but still, it women's work and not suit me.”

“They put me with others into a cave until the ship came, and then we were sent on board, put in irons, and down in the hold, where you could not sit upright—I wanted to die, but could not: others died every day, but I lived—I was landed in America, all bone, and I fetched very little money— they laughed at me, as they bid their dollars: at last a man took me away, and I was on a plantation with hundreds more, but too ill to work, and not intending to work. The other slaves asked me if I was a fetish man; I said yes, and I would fetish any man that I did not like: one man laughed, and I held up my finger; I was too weak to get up, for my blood had long boiled with fever, and I said to him
‘you shall die;'
for I meant to have killed him as soon as I was well. He went away, and in three days he was dead. I don't know how, but all the slaves feared me, and my master feared me, for he had seen the man die, and he, although he was a white man, believed in fetish, and he wished to sell me again, but no one would buy a fetish man, so he made friends with me; for I told him if I was beat he should die, and he believed me. He took me into his house, and I was his chief man, and I would not let the other slaves steal and he was content. He took me with him to New York, and there, after two years, when I had learnt English, I ran away, and got on board of an English ship—and they told me to cook. I left the ship as soon as I came to England, and offered myself to another, and they said they did not want a cook; and I went to another, and they asked me if I was a good cook: everybody seemed to think that a black man must be a cook, and nothing else. At last I starve, and I go on board a man-of-war, and here I am, after having been a warrior and a prince, cook, steward and everyting else, boiling kettle for de young gentlemen.”