“This white gentleman has not eaten breakfast,” said Cubina to his followers as they came up. “Well, Quaco! what have you got in your cutacoos?”
The individual thus appealed to was a jet-black negro of large dimensions, with a grave yet quizzical cast of countenance. He appeared to be a sort of lieutenant: perhaps the “Little John” of the party.
“Well, worthy capten,” answered he, saluting the yellow hunter with a somewhat awkward grace; “I believe there’s enough, one thing with another—that be, if the gen’lman has got a good appetite, and’s not too nice about what he eats.”
“What is there? Let me see!” interrupted Cubina, as he proceeded to inspect the panniers. “A ham of wild hog barbecued,” continued he, turning out the contents of a cutacoo. “Well, that to begin with—the white gentry are rather partial to our barbecued hog! What else? a brace of soldier-crabs. So far good. Ah! better still, a pair of ramier pigeons, and a wild guinea-fowl. Who carries the coffee and sugar?”
“Here, captain,” cried another of the cutacoo men, throwing his pannier to the ground, and drawing out several bags which contained the necessary materials for coffee-making.
“A fire, and be quick!” commanded Cubina.
At the word given a tinder was struck, dry leaves and branches quickly collected, and a sparkling, crackling fire soon blazed upon the ground. Over this was erected a crane—resting horizontally on two forked sticks—which soon carried a brace of iron pots suspended in the blaze.
With so many cooks, the process of preparing the meat for the pots was very short and quick. The pigeons and guinea-fowl were singed as fast as feathers would burn; and then being “drawn and quartered,” were flung in torn fragments into the largest of the pots.
The soldier-crabs shared the same fate; and some pieces of the wild hog ham. A handful of salt was added, water, a few slices of plantain, eddoes, calalue, and red capsicum—all of which ingredients were supplied from the cutacoos.
A strong fire of dried faggots soon brought the pot to a furious boil; and the lieutenant Quaco—who appeared also to act as chef de cuisine—after repeatedly testing the contents, at length declared that the pepper-pot was ready for serving up.