“Massa Easy, suppose I please I make it end very soon, but I not in a hurry.”
“How do you mean, Mesty, not in a hurry?”
“Look, Massa Easy, you wish take a cruise, and I wish the same ting: now because mutiny you want to go back—but, by all de powers, you tink that I, a prince in my own country, feel wish to go back and boil kettle for de young gentlemen. No, Massa Easy, gib me mutiny—gib me anyting—but—once I was prince,” replied Mesty, lowering his voice at the last few emphatic words.
“You must one of these days tell me your history, Mesty,” replied Jack; “but just now let us argue the point in question. How could you put an end to this mutiny?”
“By putting an end to all wine. Suppose I go shore after they all drunk, I spile the casks in three or four places, and in the morning all wine gone—den dey ab get sober, and beg pardon—we take dem on board, put away all arms ’cept yours and mine, and I like to see the mutiny after dat. Blood and ’ounds—but I settle um, anyhow.”
“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 a 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 dat I am someting; but, Massa Easy, I love my friend as much as I hate my enemy—and you neber 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: