“De wery number my massa told me to hax for. Tank you, Massa Captain.” And forthwith he and the other two black servants in attendance on Wagtail and Gelid, each seized his two muskets out of the arm-chest, with the corresponding ammunition, and, like so many sable Robinson Crusoes, were stumping aft, when I again accosted the aforesaid Pegtop.
“I say, my man, now since you have got the muskets, does your master really intend to fight?” The negro stopped short, and faced right round, his countenance expressing very great surprise and wonderment. “Massa Bang fight? Massa Aaron Bang fight?” and he looked up in my face with the most seriocomic expression that could be imagined. “Ah, massa,” continued the poor fellow,—“you is joking—surely you is joking—my Massa Aaron Bang fight? Oh, massa, surely you can’t know he—surely you never see him shoot snipe, and wild-duck—oh dear, why him kill wild duck on de wing—ah, me often see him knock down teal wid single ball, one hundred—ah, one hundred and fifty yards—and man surely more big mark den teal?”
“Granted,” I said; “but a teal has not a loaded musket in its claws, a Spanish buccaneer may have a small difference, Master Pegtop, that?”
“None at all, master,” chimed in Pegtop, “very energetically myshef, Gabriel Pegtop, Christian man as me is, am one of de Falmouth black shot. Ah, I have been in de woods wid Massa Aaron, one time particular, when dem wery debils, Sambo Moses, Corromantee Tom, and Eboe Peter, took to de bush, at Crabyaw estate—after breakfast—ten black shot me was one, go out along wid our good massa, Massa Aaron. Oh Lord, we walk troo de cool wood, and over de hot cleared ground, six hour, when every body say,—No use dis, Massa Bang—all we tired too much—must stop here—kindle fire—cook wittal. Ah, top dem who hab white liver, said Massa Aaron; you, Pegtop, take you fusee and cutlass, and follow me, my shild—Massa Aaron alway call me him shild, and troo enough, as parson Calaloo say, him family wery much like Joseph coat—many colour among dem, massa—though none quite so deep as mine eider”—and here the negro grinned at his own jest. “Well, I was follow him, or rader was go before him, opening up de pass wid me cutlass, troo de wery tangle underwood. We walk four hour—see no one, all still and quiet—no breeze shake de tree—oh, I sweat too much—dem hot, massa, sun shine right down, when we could catch glimpse of him—yet no trace of de runaways. At length, on turning corner, perched on small platform of rock, overshadowed by plumes of bamboos, like ostrich feather lady wear at de ball, who shall we see but dem wery dividual d——rascail I was mention, standing all tree, each wid one carabine pointed at us, at him shoulder, and cutlass at him side? Pegtop, my boy, said Massa Aaron, we is in for it—follow me, but don’t fire. So him pick off Sambo Moses—oh! cool as one cucumber. Now, say he, man to man,—and wid dat him tro him gun on de ground, and drawing him cutlass, we push up—in one moment him and Corromantee Tom close. Tom put up him hand to fend him head whip—ah—massa cutlass shred de hand at de wrist, like one carrot down Tom go—atop of him jump Massa Aaron. I master de leetle one, Eboe Peter, and we carry dem both prisoners into Falmouth.—Massa Aaron fight? Ah, massa, no hax dat question again.”
“Well, but will Mr Gelid fight?” said I.
“I tink him will too—great friend of Massa Bang—good duck—shot too oh yes, fink Massa Paul will fight.”
“Why,” said I, “your friends are all heroes, Pegtop—will Mr Wagtail fight also?” He stole close up to me, and exchanged his smart Creole gibberish for a quiet sedate accent, as he whispered.
“Not so sure of he—nice little fat man, but too fond of him belly. When I wait behind Massa Aaron chair, Pegtop sometime hear funny ting. One gentleman say—Ah, dat month we hear Lord Wellington take Saint Sebastian—when dat is, what time we hear dat news, Massa Wagtail? him say.—Eh, say Massa Wagtail—oh, we hear of dem news, dat wery day de first of de ringtail pigeon come to market. Den again, Dat big fight dem had at soch anoder place, when we hear of dat, Massa Wagtail?—say somebody else. Oh, oh, de wery day we hab dat beautiful grouper wid claret sauce at Massa Whiffie’s. Oh, make me laugh to hear white gentleman mark great fight in him memory by what him eat de day de news come; so, Massa Captain Cringle, me no quite sure weder Massa Wagtail will fight or no.”
So saying, Pegtop, Chew Chew, and Yampea, each shouldered two muskets apiece, and betook themselves to the after part of the schooner, where they forthwith set themselves to scour, and oil, and clean the same, in a most skilful manner. I expected the breeze would have freshened as the day broke, but I was disappointed; it fell, towards six o’clock, nearly calm. Come, thought I, we may as well go to breakfast; and my guests and I forthwith sat down to our morning meal. Soon after, the wind died away altogether—and “out sweeps” was the word; but I soon saw we had no chance with the chase at this game, and as to attacking him with the boats, it was entirely out of the question; neither could I, in the prospect of a battle, afford to murder the people, by pulling all day under a roasting sun, against one who could man his sweeps with relays of slaves, without one of his crew putting a finger to them; so I reluctantly laid them in, and there I stood looking at him the whole forenoon, as he gradually drew ahead of us. At length I piped to dinner, and the men having finished theirs, were again on deck; but the calm still continued; and seeing no chance of it freshening, about four in the afternoon we sat down to ours in the cabin. There was little said; my friends, although brave and resolute men, were naturally happy to see the brig creeping away from us, as fighting could only bring them danger; and my own feelings were of that mixed quality, that while I determined to do all I could to bring him to action, it would not have broken my heart had he escaped. We had scarcely finished dinner, however, when the rushing of the water past the run of the little vessel, and the steadiness with which she skimmed along, shewed that the light air had freshened.
Presently Tailtackle came down. “The breeze has set down, sir; the strange sail has got it strong to windward, and brings it along with him cheerily.”