The exclamation of the myal-man, which the sight of the label had instantaneously elicited, proved that on his side equal satisfaction existed at this mode of initiating an interview.
“Hash you a glass among your belongingsh?” inquired the Jew, looking around the hovel.
“No; dis yeer do?” asked his host, presenting a small calabash with a handle.
“Fush rate. Thish liquor drinksh goot out of anything. I had it from Capten Showler on hish lasht voyage. Jesh taste it, good Shakra, before we begins bishness.”
A grunt from the negro announced his willing assent to the proposal.
“Whugh!” he ejaculated, after swallowing the allowance poured out for him into the calabash.
“Ach! goot it ish!” said his guest, on quaffing off a like quantity; and then the bottle and gourd being set on one side, the two queer characters entered into the field of free conversation.
In this the Jew took the initiative.
“I hash news for you,” said he, “very shtrange news, if you hashn’t already heard it, Shakra? Who dosh you think ish dead?”
“Ha!” exclaimed the myal-man, his eye suddenly lighting up with a gleam of ferocious joy; “he gone dead, am he?”