Herbert Vaughan, standing on the fore-deck of the Sea Nymph—as yet undecided as to whether he should then go ashore—had noticed this magnificent equipage. He was still gazing upon it, when his attention was attracted to two gentlemen, who, having walked direct from the vessel, had just arrived by the side of the carriage. A white servant followed them; and behind were two negro attendants, carrying a number of parcels of light luggage. One of the gentlemen and the white servant were easily recognised by Herbert: they were Mr Montagu Smythje and his valet.
Herbert now recalled the odd expression made use of, but the moment before, by his fellow-passenger—that he was “consigned” to the proprietor of Mount Welcome.
The carriage having received Mr Montagu Smythje, and the footman having mounted the box—leaving the rumble to the English valet—was driven off at full speed; the second gentleman, who appeared to be an overseer, following on horseback as an escort.
Herbert watched the receding vehicle, until a turn in the road hid it from his view; and then, dropping his eyes towards the deck, he stood for some moments in a reflective attitude,—revolving in his mind some thoughts that were far from agreeable.
No one there to meet him and bid him welcome!
The countenance of the young adventurer became clouded under the influence of this thought; and he stood silently gazing upon the deck with eyes that saw not.
“Sa!” said a negro boy, at this moment stepping up and interrupting his reflections.
“Ha!” rejoined Herbert, looking up and perceiving, with some surprise, that the darkey was regarding him with a fixed stare. “What might you want, my lad? If it be money, I have none to give you.”
“Money, sa? wharra fo’ Quashie want money? He do wha’ massr bid. Young buckra ready go now?”
“Ready to go! where?—what mean you, boy?”