“We will at least give him a hearty supper,” said Lucy, “and an affectionate welcome to our home.”
Wingenund thanked her with his dark eyes, and the little party proceeded leisurely, without incident or interruption, to Mooshanne.
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH THE READER IS UNCEREMONIOUSLY TRANSPORTED TO ANOTHER ELEMENT IN COMPANY WITH ETHELSTON; THE LATTER IS LEFT IN A DISAGREEABLE PREDICAMENT.
It is time that we should now turn our attention to Ethelston, who is much too important a personage in our narrative to be so long neglected, and respecting whose safety Lucy began to feel the jealous anxiety of love; for The Pride of Ohio had been long expected in Marietta, and several French frigates and corvettes were reported to be cruising among the West Indian Islands, actively engaged in revenging upon American commerce the loss which they had sustained in The Insurgente. We shall soon see that Lucy’s alarm was not altogether groundless, and that her lover’s prolonged absence was not without sufficient cause. About a month preceding the occurrences detailed in the last chapter, Ethelston, having landed his merchandise in safety at Port Royal, and having taken on board a small cargo of sugar and coffee, prepared to return to New Orleans. He had heard of the French men–of–war cruising in the neighbourhood, and prudently resolved to risk as little as possible on this trip: he took therefore securities for a great portion of the amount due to him, which he left in the charge of the vessel’s consignees, and conveyed on board only a sufficient cargo to put The Pride of Ohio in perfect sailing trim, and to give her a fair chance of escape in case she were chased by an enemy. His little brig was well rigged and manned, and he felt confident that few, if any, of the French cruisers would match her for speed. His mate, or sailing–master, was Gregson, a hardy weather–beaten old sailor, who had served on board of every kind of craft, from a man–of–war to a fishing–cobble, and knew every headland, reef, and current in that dangerous sea, as well as a Liverpool pilot knows the banks and shoals in the mouth of the Mersey. The Pride of Ohio mounted three guns; two eighteen–pound carronades, and one long nine–pounder: ten stout fellows and a black cook completed her complement: the last–mentioned person deserves special notice, as he was a character strangely formed by the alternations of fortune which he had seen. A native of the interior of western Africa, he had in early life been chosen, on account of his extraordinary strength and courage, a chief of the Lucumi tribe, to which he belonged; but having been unfortunately made a prisoner, he was taken down to the coast and sold to a slaver: thence he had been conveyed to some of the Spanish Islands, and afterwards to Virginia, where he had come into possession of Colonel Brandon, who finding him possessed of many good qualities, and of a sagacity very rare among his countrymen, had offered him his liberty when he moved to Ohio; but Cupid (for so was the negro called) had grown so much attached to his master, that he begged to be allowed to remain in his service, and, from one employment to another, had now become cook and steward on board The Pride of Ohio. In frame he was Herculean; and though he rarely exerted his strength, he had shown on various occasions that it was nearly if not quite equal to that of any other two men in the vessel. He spoke but little, and was sullen and reserved in his manners; but as he never disobeyed orders, and never was guilty of aggression or violence, Cupid was, upon the whole, a favourite with the crew.
To Ethelston he was invaluable; for he was always at his post, was scrupulously honest with respect to money or stores placed under his charge, and on more than one occasion his shrewdness and readiness had surprised his young commander. The captain (for so was Ethelston called on board) always treated Cupid kindly, and never allowed him to be made the subject of those jeers and insults to which free negroes in the States are usually exposed. On this account the cook, who never forgot that he had been a warrior, entertained towards him the warmest feelings of attachment and gratitude.
How or where he had obtained the name he bore, none seemed to know; and Ethelston remembered having heard that when first he came into Colonel Brandon’s possession, and was asked his name, he had sullenly replied, “The name I once had is at home: a slave has neither name nor home!” A terrible gash across his forehead and left cheek (received, probably, in the war when he was captured,) had disfigured a countenance that had been originally expressive of haughtiness and determination, and had, perhaps, led the slave–dealer to bestow upon him in irony the name by which he was now called.