I FIND AN EXCELLENT FRIEND IN PLACE OF A CRUEL ENEMY.
Hearing these words, I held my hand for amazement, though the knife was within a span of his throat. In that instant it came across my mind that the letter which had so distracted me was not of Lady Biddy's writing. I had not hitherto questioned this matter; for, firstly, I knew not her hand; and, secondly, neither Lewis de Pino nor any one else we had met since our coming on these shores had comprehended one word of our language. The letter was badly writ in a large and painful hand, but that might have been owing to ill accommodation for writing; and, indeed, I had not regarded the manner of it, but only the matter. But now, hearing this fellow speak in English, it did, as I say, cross my mind that he had penned it.
This took no longer to present itself to my intelligence than a flash of a musket.
"Fellow," says I hoarsely, "was it you that wrote that letter to me."
"Ay," says he, "with a plague to it; for if I had not writ it I should not have got into this mess."
Whereupon I flung aside the knife, and, laying hold of his two hands, could have kissed him for my great delight, despite the suffering I had endured through his handiwork.
Then I covered my face with my hands for shame to think how I had wronged that pure sweet girl by leaping so quickly to an evil opinion of her; and to think she might have so fallen away from a noble condition, I burst out with tears, and sobbed like any child; and from that to think that she had not fallen away, and was still the same dear woman I had thought her, I fell to laughing; and, springing to my feet, cut a caper in the air like a very fool, and might have proceeded to further extravagances in my delirium but that my good angel (as I dubbed the fellow), laying his hands on me whispered:
"For Heaven's sake, master, contain yourself a bit, or I shan't come out of this business with a whole skin yet. I doubt but you have waked some of the cursed Portugals by your antics."
With this he creeps over to the door, and thrusting his head over the stairs stands there listening carefully a minute or two; after which, seeming satisfied that no one was astir, he closes the door gently, and creeps back to me, by which time I had come to a more sober condition, though still near choking with the bounding of my heart and the throbbing of the blood in my veins for excess of joy.
"'Tis all quiet below," says he in a whisper; "but betwixt getting my throat cut by you, and being fleaed alive by the Portugals for being here, I've had a narrow squeak. Howsomever, I suppose you bear me no ill-will?"
"Heaven forgive me for treating you as an enemy!" says I, grasping his hand again.
"As for that," says he, "I don't blame you for your intent to stick me if you thought I was one of those accursed Portugals; and how were you to know better, finding me crawling on you in their own manner. Let us drink a dram, master, to our better acquaintance; 'twill stiffen our legs and clear our heads, and mine are all of a jelly-shake with this late bout."
"Where is my cousin?" I asked him, as he was drinking from the jar.
"That's good," says he, taking the jar from his mouth and handing it to me. "Take a pull at it—asking your pardon for drinking first, but I've lost my good manners with twelve years of slavery."
"My cousin," says I—"the lady in whose name you wrote that letter?"
"Drink," says he. "We've got no time to lose if, as I do hope, you're minded to get away from this."
"Ay," says I; "but my cousin?"
"Drink," says he.
Seeing he was of a persistent sort, I lifted the jar to my lips to cut the matter short.
"The female," says he, "went on with De Pino and his train about ten minutes after you were brought up here. De Pino made her believe you had gone on ahead, being in a strange dull humor, and she, to overtake you, hurried away. Drink," he adds, seeing me still with the jar a little from my lips. So I drank; but betwixt two gulps I said:
"They are still gone on the road to Caracas?"
"Caracas!" says he. "Lord love you, master!" (an exclamation with which he larded his sentences continually), "when they get to their journey's end they won't be within a hundred leagues of Caracas."
"Whither is he carrying her, then, in Heaven's name?"
"To Quito, where De Pino spends his time when he is not trafficking. Lord love you, master, don't spare the liquor."
I drank deeply to satisfy him, and that we might come more quickly to the matter I had a greater thirst for.
"Now," says I, "tell me how you came to write that letter."
He took the jar out of my hand and drank again in silence. At length he put it from his lips with a gasp.
"Have another turn; we may not have a taste of wine for many a long day hence," says he.
"I can drink no more. Would to Heaven I could get you to answer my questions!"
"Time enough for that," says he, "when we get where we can talk above a pig's whisper with no fear of being heard. Now, master, if you can drink no more, we'll set about getting out of this. We shall be all right if we tread light, and don't bungle till we get to the foot of the stairs. There I must put out the lantern. But you lay hold of my shoulder and get ready for a bolt if needs be. Are you got a knife?"
"No," says I.
"Then I must manage to get you one when we are below. A couple of swords won't be an inconvenience to us, neither. You won't have another dram?"
"No," says I; "and you have had enough."
"That's as may be," says he. "I could drink a tun of it. Howsomever, I'll take it you're right, so far as our safety is concerned. Now, master, you take my knife and follow close. Keep your questions till we get a league on our way. I'll carry the lantern and this bag of victuals, and if I'd got another hand, hang me if I'd leave the jar behind. Here goes, master. Remember, if we are caught we shall be fleaed alive. Now, then—softly does it! Not a word!"