There is something striking in being suddenly withdrawn from prowling on the "melancholy main," and plunged into the vortex of civilized life. The very jabber of the negroes startled me more than I had allowed for, as I landed on the wharf, an old rickety wooden fabric, and accosted a tall man in white trowsers and jacket, who was walking up and down upon it, to enquire where the best tavern or lodging-house was situated. He very civilly not only gave me the desired information, but accompanied me as pilot; so that I soon found myself in the dark piazza of a large building, which had any thing but the look of a place of public resort. An open balcony ran along the front next the street, to which you ascended by five or six steps, with a common unpainted wooden rail, to prevent your toppling over into the thoroughfare. Beyond this there was a gloomy dungeon of an interior chamber, apparently wainscoted with some sort of dark-coloured hardwood, and lighted by one solitary unsnuffed tallow candle, glimmering on a long mahogany table covered with slops, and wet marks, as if glasses had recently been removed, the whole redolent of the strong smell of tobacco smoke and brandy punch. There appeared to be bedrooms opening off the hall at each end.
"Hillo!—house!" shouted I, as no one appeared when I entered;—"house!"
A tall decently-dressed brown woman—lady, beg her pardon—at this presented herself at the farther door of the large room fronting the one at which I stood—
"Hose!—hose!—what you want wid de hose?"
"I am a traveller," said I, "just landed, and want some supper and a bed."
"Supper and a bed," said the old lady,—"sartainly, you shall have dem. But—beg pardon, sir—I hear no noise of horse or sarvant, so I was tink you might have been walking buccra,[[1]] and I never allow dem sort of peoples to put dere nose into my hose. But here I see sailor carrying in your luggage," as the master of the brig, whom I had invited to sup with me, came up the front steps of the piazza, followed by one of his crew, and Serjeant Quacco, carrying my traps.
[[1]] A most opprobrious appellation in Jamaica, as nothing, in the eyes of the coloured and black population, seems so degrading to a white man as the being compelled to travel on foot.
We were now treated with abundant civility, and soon were enjoying ourselves over an excellent repast.
"Pray, Mrs—I forget your name."
"Sally Frenche, an please, massa."