There was the bustle of departure, on board a Yankee schooner, which some hope of gain had brought to the southern island, named in our last chapter. The fresh and favorable breeze hurried the preparations of the sailors, as they moved about full of glad thoughts of return to their distant home.
The boat, which had been sent ashore for some needful supplies, was fast approaching the vessel, and in it, among the rough tars, was Daph, her precious basket at her side, and her bright eyes passing from face to face, with an eager, wistful glance, that seemed trying to read the secrets of each heart.
“Here! go-a-head, woman! I’ll hand up your chickens;” said one of the sailors, as they reached the anchored schooner.
“I keeps my chickens to myself,” said Daph, as she placed the basket on her head, and went up the side of the vessel, as steadily and securely as the oldest tar of all.
As soon as she set her foot on deck, the sailors thronged around her, offering to take her chickens from her, at her own price, and passing their rough jokes on her stout figure and shining black face. One young sailor, bolder than the rest, laid his hand on the basket, and had well-nigh torn away its cover. The joke might have proved a dangerous one for him. A blow from Daph’s strong arm sent him staggering backwards, and in another moment, the negress had seized an oar, and was brandishing it round her head, threatening with destruction any one who should dare to touch her property, and declaring that with the captain, and with him alone, would she treat for the chickens, about which so much had been said.
“Cap’in,” said she, as a tall, firmly-knit man drew near the scene of the disturbance; “Cap’in, it’s you, sah, I wants to speak wid, and just you by yourself, away from these fellows, who don’t know how to treat a ’spectable darkie, who belongs to the greatest gentleman in the island. Let me see you in your little cubby there, and if you have an heart in you, we’ll make a bargain.”
There was something so earnest in the woman’s manner, that Captain Jones at once consented to her odd request, smiling at himself as he did so.
A kind of temporary cabin had been put up on deck, for the protection of the captain from the hot rays of the southern sun. It was but a rude frame-work, covered with sail-cloth, and yet, when the canvas door was closed, it formed a pleasant and cool place of retirement for an afternoon nap, or for the transaction of private business.
To that spot Daph followed the captain, her basket on her head, and her firm step and consequential air seeming to say to the sailors,—“You see, your captain knows better than you do how to treat such a person as I am.”
When they were once within the little enclosure, Daph’s manner changed. She put down her precious basket, and looking the captain directly in the eye, she said, solemnly, “Cap’in, would you see a man struggle for his life in de deep water, outside da, and nebber lift your hand to save him? Would you see a house on fire, and sweet baby-children burning in it, and just look on to see de awsome blaze, and nebber stir to save de dear babies? Cap’in, I’se brought you a good work to do. Dey say de great Lord blesses dem dat cares for little children, and gives dem a good seat in heaven. Swear by de great Lord you wont tell de dreadsome secret I’se going to tell you! Swear! time is short!”