I called in Jarbe and asked him whether he would prefer to take twenty guineas and his dismissal, or to continue in my service. I explained that he would have to wait in London for a week, and join me at the place from which I wrote to him.
“Sir,” said he, “I should like to remain in your service, and I will rejoin you wherever you please. When are you leaving?”
“In an hour’s time; but say not a word, or it will cost me my life.”
“Why can’t you take me with you?”
“Because I want you to bring my linen which is at the wash, and my clothes which the tailor is making. I will give you sufficient money for the journey.”
“I don’t want anything. You shall pay me what I have spent when I rejoin you. Wait a moment.”
He went out and came back again directly, and holding out sixty guineas, said,—
“Take this, sir, I entreat you, my credit is good for as much more in case of need.”
“I thank you, my good fellow, but I will not take your money, but be sure I will not forget your fidelity.”
My tailor lived close by and I called on him, and seeing that my clothes were not yet made up I told him that I should like to sell them, and also the gold lace that was to be used in the trimming. He instantly gave me thirty guineas which meant a gain to him of twenty-five per cent. I paid the week’s rent of my lodging, and after bidding farewell to my negro I set out with Daturi. We slept at Rochester, as my strength would carry me no farther. I was in convulsions, and had a sort of delirium. Daturi was the means of saving my life.