"Well, den, I go on. Suppose you hab one comfortable house, plenty pig dere, yam grow all round, orange tree blossom close to, plantain trow him cool shadow over all, bending heavily in de breeze, over de house; wid de fruit ready for drop into your mout, when you look up at him; de leetle guinea pig squeak here and snort dere; we hab pineapple and star-apple—oh, wery sweet—de great corn (maise dem call him) grow all round de house; pease cover him like one vine; and your servants are working and singing, and de comfortable sunshine is drying every ting, and closing all de beautiful flowers in him sleepy heat. You yousef are sitting in your chair, wid some small drop of grog, after you hab eat good dinner of goat, and maybe one broiled fis; and just when you take your pipe, light him, and put him into your mout—crack—one musket-shot sing over your head—you jomp—(who would not jomp?—Debil himself would jomp)—and before you can tink—flash—one sailor make blow at you wid him glass-clear cutlass. And ah, massa, suppose de worstest to come, and dese strangers to set fire to your quiet hut, after beating and bruising you; and de flames begin to crackle and hiss over de wery apartment where you know your wife is, and are consuming all your goods at de same time; and dem black people were my goods: for if you had left we to oursef dis morning, I should have got two hundred doubloon, and five hundred piece of check clot, from de Spanish captain, for dose one hundred and fifty slave; who," (his smile here might have been the envy of the Fiend himself,) "to prevent dem from being miserable as you call in Havanna, you hab sent to be happy in heaven." And he groaned in great bitterness of spirit.
I was much struck with all this, and looked steadfastly at the poor creature, who was standing right opposite me with his arms folded, in all the dignity of a brave man, who considers his fate sealed. There was a long pause. When he next spoke, it was in a low melancholy tone.
"De morning sun, when him first sparkle on de waterdrop dat hang like diamond on de fresh green leaf, shine on me dis wery morning, one reesh and happy man—one leetle chief—master of all dem ting I speak about. White man-of-war peoples come. Sun set in de west,—red trou de sickly fog, leaving every wegitable yellow, and dry, and dusty—who him shine on now—on me, Quacco, once more—aye, but Quacco widout house, or home, or friend, or goods, more as he hab on him back—on Quacco standing up in him kin, desolate as one big large baboon de day him new catch." Here the poor fellow could no longer control his feelings, but wept bitterly—after a burst of grief, he continued, with a voice almost inarticulate from intense emotion—"If all dis was pass wid you, captain, in one leetle hot day, in one small twelve hour!" But his manhood once more rallied in his bosom, and making a step towards Lanyard, with all the native independence of a noble savage, he said, laying one of his hands on his heart, "Yes, massa, I ask you, had all dis happen to you, let alone one poor black debil like myself, white man as you is—Kin's officer as you is—Christian person on de back of bote—can you put your hand where mine is now, and say, dat your spirit would not have been much move—dat it would not have been a bitter, bitter ting to look back to what you was when dat sun rose, and den to consider what his last light glanced on?" He now slowly drew his bayonet—I started at the motion, and Sprawl half rose from his chair, and seized the carving knife that lay on the table.
The man did not move a muscle, but continued looking steadfastly in the fourth lieutenant's face, while he placed the handle or pipe of the naked weapon in his right hand.
"Massa," at length he said, coolly and deliberately, "I am helpless and unarmed, and a poor drunken rascal beside, and in your power—one moment and you can make cut my troat." Dick returned the weapon, and signed to him to sheath it, which he did—he then unexpectedly turned round to me——"And as for you massa, if I have ill used you dis day, you know of de provocation—you best know what you would have done in my place. But, massa, bote for we blood is red, and you should not forget dis ting, dat one time dis forenoon it might hab been for you place to hax Serjeant Quacco to save you from dem brute beast on sore."
I was taken regularly aback, and blackie saw it; so he now assumed an easier mien, as if conscious he had made a favourable impression.
"But what brought you here, my good man?" said I.
"De fear of death," he promptly replied. "It has enter de foolis head of de blacks dat I was de cause of de attack—dat I was in league wid you, being, as you see, one Englis gentleman like yousefs." (I had great difficulty in maintaining my gravity at all this.) "So my wife dere creep to where I hide when de evening come, and say"—here he took hold of Sprawl's hand in both of his, and looked up tenderly into his face—(any one having our friend Liston's countenance, when the Beauty is shamming Bashful, painted on the retina of his mind's eye, has a tolerable idea of the expression of Davie's face. Oh for an hour of Wilkie to have caught the two cherubs as a group!)—"'Quacco'—him say 'Hokey doodle doo.'"
"Say what?" quoth Sprawl, like to choke with suppressed laughter—"Say what?"
The poor fellow regarded the lieutenant for some time with the greatest surprise, murmuring aside, "What can de good gentleman see to amuse him so mosh?" then aloud, "Him say in de Eboe tongue, 'you old willain, your troat is to be slice dis wery night.'—'De debil,' say I, 'Jooram junkee pop, say I; dat is, it shan't if I can help it. So I bolt—run away—launch dory—and here I is, Serjeant Quacco, ready once more to serve his Majesty Kin Shorge—God save de Kin!"