The last word was uttered so loud as to reach the ear of the runaway.
“Yah! Foolah, Foolah!” he exclaimed, turning his eyes appealingly upon his captor. “No slave—no slave!” added he, striking his hand upon his breast as he repeated the words.
“Slave! no slave!” echoed the Maroon, with a start of surprise; “that’s English enough. They’ve taught him the ugly word.”
“Foolah me—no slave!” again exclaimed the youth, with a similar gesture to that he had already made.
“Something curious in this,” muttered the Maroon, musingly. “What can he mean by saying he is no slave—for that is certainly what he is trying to say? Slave he must be; else how did he get here? I’ve heard that a cargo has been just landed, and that the old Jew got most or all of them. This young fellow must be one of that lot. Very likely he’s picked up the words aboard ship. Perhaps he is speaking of what he was in his own country. Ah, poor devil! he’ll soon find the difference here!
“Santos Dios!” continued the Maroon, after a pause, in which he had been silently regarding the countenance of the newly-arrived African. “It’s a shame to make a slave of such as he—a hundred times more like a freeman than his master. Poor fellow! it’s a hard row he’ll have to hoe. I feel more than half-tempted to risk it, and save him from such a fate.”
As this half-determination passed through the mind of the Maroon, a noble and proud expression came over his features.
“If they had not seen him in my possession;” he continued to reflect; “but the overseer and those Spanish poltroons know all, and will—Well, let them!—at all events I shall not take him back till I’ve seen Yola. No doubt she can talk to him. If he’s Foolah she can. We’ll hear what he’s got to say, and what this ‘no slave’ means.”
On saying this, the speaker turned his eyes upward; and appeared for some moments to scan the sun.
“Good,” he exclaimed. “It is near the hour. I may expect her at any moment. Oh! I must have him out of sight, and these dead dogs, too, or my timid pet will be frayed. There’s been so much doing about here—blood and fire—she will scarcely know the old trysting-place. Hark you, Foolah! Come this way, and squat yourself in here till I call you out again.”