“Don’t be too hasty, sir. Reflect before you determine. The price I offer is a good price; and it is impossible you can get one so high, search Caffreton through and through.” Perceiving his visitors were at the door, he added—“Suppose we say five and twenty—a great risk—a hazardous——”
“Good day to you, master Boor!” exclaimed Oriel, bending his head proudly, and departed with his companion through the counting-house. The old man scowled after his visitors, muttering to himself,—“I’ll have them at a less price, in spite of you.”
About the same time two persons were seen walking cautiously through a narrow unfrequented street in the suburbs of the town, connected with a number of other thoroughfares of a like description, chiefly inhabited by the lowest class of the black population. The tallest of the two, who was a little in advance of his companion, whose short dumpy figure and conceited physiognomy it was impossible to mistake, turned round, and addressed his associate:—
“Come, master Log, show more sail. I’m spiflicated if we shall ever find safe anchorage if you don’t. I think I arn’t forgotten the landmarks; but, somehow, I’ve got into a little bit of a mystification about making the proper tacks. This is it! No, it arn’t! Ha! Now I see, as clean as a cable. There’s the sign o’ the Ship, at the corner yonder. We goes right ahead there; then we makes a tack; then we goes ahead again; then we makes another tack; then I knows all the whereabouts. That’s right, arnt it, mister?”
“Right—right—very right—decidedly right—absolutely right: indeed, I may say, positively right, mister Scrumpydike,” responded the little man, endeavouring to keep pace with his more bulky companion.
“Here comes another Hottentot;” said Scrumpydike, noticing an individual of that race approaching them. “What a lot o’ them black craft one meets wi’ steerin’ about in these here seas; they puts one in mind o’ a fleet of colliers, creepin’ along shore. But this nigger is black, arnt he, master Log?”
“Black, black,—monstrous black,—very monstrous black—upon my word most diabolically black, mister Scrumpydike;” replied the captain’s clerk, puffing and blowing with the exertion he made to prolong his walk.
“I say, won’t them bugaboos afloat entertain something of a ’stonishment when we commences the fun. Don’t you think some on ’em ’ll go mad?” inquired the other.
“Mad, mad,—very mad, very mad, indeed,—pretty considerably wild, stiff, stark, staring mad, mister Scrumpydike,” rejoined his companion.
They had now reached one of the narrowest, darkest, and filthiest streets in that quarter of the town; and by the expression of satisfaction that gleamed on the coarse features of Scrumpydike, it was evident that they were near the end of their journey. They proceeded along this street till they came to a court through which they passed, and entered a lane where there were no houses on one side, and very few, and those far apart on the other. Keeping on the side where the houses were, they followed the footpath, till they came to a ruined habitation of the poorest class, little better than a mud kraal. The few windows it possessed were broken and covered with dirt; its door was battered to a fragment; the roof had fallen in, and the walls threatened to tumble. Looking cautiously round to see if any persons were observing them, the sailor removed the door to admit himself and his companion, and then carefully replaced it; afterwards they picked their way over fragments of stone and timber, through a moderate sized chamber, and descended a long flight of steps till they came to a wall.