University of Virginia Library

11. CHAPTER XI.

While supper was preparing, I took occasion to enquire
how it happened that they came so providentially
to our relief?

“Thee's heard,” said the old man, “the old saying:
but thee must tell me thy christian name, my son.”

“Charles, sir,” said I.

“Charles!” repeated he, “yes, that was thy father's
name. Thee's heard `that when rogues fall out, honest
people come by their own;' so it seems that these fellows
fell out among themselves, and so one o' the gang turned
king's evidence. That I bethink, it be this same, whatde'call'um.
Hunter; stop, where be he that brought us
hither?—fellow come forward here—was it not this
Hunter that thee sayest brought thee in the lurch?”

“Yes, sir,” replied one of the men.

“And what be thy name, friend? I fear thee's as bad
as any o' um, but thee did a good turn once in thy life,
but though dare say didn't intend it.”

“My right name, sir, is Horton.”

And Horton it was indeed—the same Horton whom
my father had taken as a servant into his family, at the
instance of Hunter, and who had eloped from Boston
suddenly.

The reader will recollect that I suspected him of stealing
the bonds, which my father held on Hunter.

It was evident from the confusion in his countenance,
that he recognized me.

“Well, as I was saying,” continued my uncle, “this
fellow, Horton, and the head o' the gang quarrelled about
the booty, and he came and lodged information to the
Governor of Havana. I happened to be sitting with old
Frank, just in the nick o' time, de ye see, and he is good
an old soul as ever trod on neat's leather. So he says
to me, Tom, you're the man (if any body can) that'ill just
go and fetch'um in; they ha' done a deal o' harm—d—d
glad-to find'um out; there is the swift sailor, and take

as many boys as you please to man her. The fellow says
he will take you to the spot—always set a rogue to catch
a rogue. And so, to be sure, was just agoin to sail to
the States, had every thing aboard, but so it was I loitered
away the time, 'till this here news come, and the
Governor said he would not be denied, as how he would
depend on no one else, and that's the amount o' the
story.”

I turned to Horton and asked him “if he did not recollect
me?”

He hesitated some time, but at length stammered out
that “he did—that he thought he had seen me before.”

“You must be at no loss,” replied I, “to recollect me,
when you were a servant at my father's; you must be the
villain that stole Hunter's bonds out of my father's trunk,
but I forgive you as you have been the means of saving
my life.”

“Ah, friend, I thought thee was as great a villain as
any o' the gang, but thee shall get the papers and Hunter
shall get 'um too.”

“And how came it to pass,” said I, “that two such
friends as you and Hunter should differ? A disclosure
cannot injure you now, as it is a matter that concerns you
and him alone; you can incur no sort of danger, by a full
confession; besides, you will eventually be compelled to
disclose every thing that relates to your connexion with
this man, as a witness. He is a citizen of the United
States, and must be taken there to stand his trial.”

Horton scratched his head, and after some hesitation
said, “that Hunter was one of the worst of men; that
he had been his ruin.”

“To the point—to the point,” said my uncle, “we
have'nt time to listen to thee, ruination and all that sort
o'thing—how come thee to fall out? answer that.”

“May it please your honour, sir, I was to have one-fourth
of all that Hunter made, and he never gave me any
thing but ill usage. When I challenged him for his breach
of promise, he said he would fit me out a vessel, and I
should have the command of her. He failed in this, and I
threatened to discover upon him if he did not comply with
one or the other of his promises. He said I should have my

deserts as soon as we were landed, adding he would put
me where the dogs would not bite me. Expecting from
this that he intended to murder me, I took the opportunity
one night as we were close under Havana, (looking
for game as we call it,) to slip into the water and swam
to shore.”

“That is the truth, I believe 'um,” said my uncle,
“for I saw him as wet as a drowned rat.”

“And is Hunter a partner of these pirates?” said I.

“He is, sir,” said Horton.

“You say he was to give you a fourth; a fourth of
what?”

“A fourth of what we gained.”

“What by?”

“Why sir, by robbery, if I must tell the truth. Hunter
found these men in vessels, guns and every thing they
wanted, and they gave him half the profits. When Hunter
could not come here to attend to it himself, he would
send me. Why he has been at this business ten years.”

“Well go thy ways, I hates to hear it—'can't keep
my temper at hearing such doings.”

In a few minutes Sambo re-entered, having made great
improvement in his appearance by the addition of a clean
piece of checked cloth by way of apron, extending from
chin to toe. He placed a white cloth on the rude table,
knives and forks, plates, and some best cogniac, which
would have been irresistible, had it sparkled in decanters,
instead of a large rough wooden noggin. He next
disposed several horn tumblers around the noggin, not
forgetting his master's large silver cup. Thus having
given the last evidence of his skill to the table, Sambo
withdrew.

In a quarter of an hour he returned with a huge coffee-pot
in one hand, and a dish of nicely fried, fresh fish, in
the other, followed by the old woman loaded with cups
and bowls, out of which it was intended we should drink
our coffee.

“Ah, massa,” said Sambo, as he placed the things on
the table, “dis caffee make you feel young. I make him
myself and bootyful fish you neber see—dat dare man
what catch him dis mornin; he did'en know who goin
eat him.”

“Why done you make hase?” said he to his companion
in attendance, “you so slow about ebery ting.”

She looked at him as if she could have killed a host
with one glance of her eye, though she had but one in
her head. He disappeared once more, still grumbling at
the sloth of his companion, who nevertheless followed
him to bring the rest of the supper.

When they re-appeared, I was astonished to see an exquisite
dish of oysters, and a delicious looking wild fowl,
an untouched ham, and a great quantity of sea biscuit.

“Well, d—n these rascals, see to 'em, how they
lived—old hag didn't always fare thus!”

“Fine cheer!” said my uncle as he advanced to the
table in order to sit down. Our fille de chambre made
him no answer.

“D—n thee for a blear ey'd old b—h, canst speak,
ey! come, boys, sit down—tell ye what—Sweet-heart,
get thee out o' my sight—never stir if thee baint the ugliest
old —! do'st hear? change thy garments before
'e comes back, and wash that face o' thine.”

She still was silent, though she took my uncle's advice
in withdrawing from his presence. She certainly ad
the least refinement about her that I ever witnessed in
one of the sex. As I before observed, she had but one
eye: her nose, originally short, was rendered still more
so by some accident. She was about five feet ten,
in height, had she been straight—but that she was not.
She was about sixty years of age, clad in an old green
petticoat, bespotted with the grease of years. As for
her face, I should suppose if water and it had ever been
acquainted it was several years since.[1] It was wrinkled
something like the skin of an Irish potatoe, when it
has undergone a thaw after being frozen.

I observed to my uncle that probably his hand-maid
did not understand English.

“He unstan well enough—he do ebery ting I tell
him.”

“Thee didn't bring a bit o' wine, didn't Sam?'

“No sir, I wan' bring wine, massa say no—bring
branny.”

“Well I believe I did, but didn't think o' stayin' so long
and brandy is better to make one light; but I hates it at
table,” said the old man after taking a hearty draught.

“Maybe got some wine here, I go see,” said Sambo.

“Tell that old dare-the-d—l to come hither.”

When she approached, he addressed her with “hark-'ee,
comrade, hasn't some wine aboard?” By the time
he had said this, she being full in his view, his disgust
revived in a tenfold degree, and without waiting for a
reply, he cried out “avast—do say thee's fit for nothing
but to feed the crows—why her face looks as 'tware
parboiled,” said he as Sambo followed her to enquire
about the wine.

It was some time before Sambo returned, bearing a
demi-john, which proved about half full of excellent Madeira.

“Maybe the old hag has poisoned it, Sambo—dos't
think she has?”

“No, sir, he love him too well he self; he had him
hid away in agroun—I be boun he good.”

“And it be clean, its more than she be,” said the old
man, as Sambo filled his cup.

“Ah, its excellent,” said he after tasting it, “take
some boys,” after turning off a bumper himself.

Sambo's eyes sparkled with joy to think he had put
the finishing stroke to the supper, and we as well as the
old gentleman did great honour to the things of the cavern
after ordering the guard to be doubled.

“Curse these pirates,” said my uncle, “I don't like
to—'um—then—I believe they're—all-a-very—set---o'
heathens,” as he chewed the crisped end of a fish.

“But I should like to know how Dick will do to night,
de ye see—left him to take care o' the vessel and like o'
that.”

As I knew nothing of the Dick he mentioned, I said

nothing. This was the most pleasant repast I had partaken
of since I left Tennessee three years before.

After we had supped, the men who were not on duty
were called to receive their rations of biscuit and brandy,
which when they had disposed of, they were ordered on
guard until the others should also partake of refreshment.

“And now,” said my uncle, “be upon the watch boys,
keep a good look out; I be going to lay me down to take
my rest—if any thing stirs, fire the alarm-gun—dos't
hear Ferguson?”

“Ay, ay, sir,” said Ferguson.

“I believe these are a sort o' slippery fellows we ha'
got among.”

He then called Sambo to fix him a place to sleep, and
after repeating his orders to the men, Sambo helped him
to lie down, taking a brimming cup in the first place.

“D—n your limbs, take care,” said he to his servant
as he found himself unable to walk steady.

“No dangy, massa, you no fall.”

“No fall! thee son o' a b—h dost think I be drunk?”

“No, massa, I mean my step so awkard.”

After the necessary attention to his master, Sambo
seemed disposed to sieze the present opportunity to refresh
himself with the remnant of the supper. Indeed,
there was nothing left but the bones and some biscuit;
he indemnified himself, however, from the noggin.—
While he was picking all the meat that was left on the
bones, I rallied him for his want of gallantry in not inviting
old aunt Dorithy, or what may be her name, to
come and partake with him, they being fellow-labourers
together.

“That's bravely thought on,” said my uncle, “go and
tell her to come and eat, you dog.”

“Blessy, massa, notting 'tall to eat—young massa
jus makin he fun.”

“Well go and tell her to come and drink then; I warrant
she loves brandy.”

Sambo knew when to obey, and stepping into the apartment,
soon returned with the queen of the cavern.

“Now sir, pour out for both of ye, and drink for better
acquaintance.”

I could not, I confess, preserve much decorum. Wilson
and I laughed at the grotesque appearance of the old
woman. It was the first time almost in two years that
either he or myself had smiled. Sambo had very gallantly
presented the old lady a bumper, and likewise filled
one for himself. After bowing down till his head
touched the table, waited with a mischievous smile on his
countenance, for her to pledge him, but she refused in
sullen silence, until my uncle exclaimed,

“Why don't thee drink with thy new sweet-heart,
thee old h—l cat?—Blast thee, 'would think't the first
time ever thee refused—drink, I say.”

She waited for no further invitation, but turned the
best part of it off and was withdrawing, when Sambo
called her to come and take her “cockly-wear.”

After she retired, I asked Sambo how he would like
the old lady for a wife? By this time he had become, as
well as the rest of us, pretty lively; his eyes sparkled,
and he was all glee.

“Ah, massa,” said he, as with the bacon-bone in one
hand and knife in the other, the labour of which he often
relieved by the application of his teeth. “You is funin
now, you rekon I have dat ole ting—he look wossa den
allegator.”

The sudden transition from death to life, disposed me
to listen to the sprightly sallies of Sambo; but my uncle
proposed that we should now go to rest. Wilson had a
great-coat, but I had not seen mine since my arrival at
the cavern. My uncle hearing me observe this, ordered
Sambo to go and tell that old hag to get the coat instantly,
or he'd put “her to death.” This message soon
produced the great-coat, and we placed ourselves by the
side of the old man. Although we had rested none the
preceding night, yet neither Wilson nor myself seemed
disposed to sleep. The incidents of the day repassing
before me, seemed to be the work of magic. I thought
of the generous Leanora; I thought of my orphan sister;
a thousand ideas arose in my mind respecting her,
and although the guard was strong, both within and without,
yet the desperate situation of the prisoners suggested
thoughts in my mind very far from those of perfect

confidence. I spoke to my uncle in a low voice, intimating
the danger we were in, should other pirates (which
for ought we knew might be the case) make their appearance
in the course of the night, and asked him “if he
was perfectly assured of the fidelity of his men?”

“Why blast thee, thee an't a coward, boy, art thee?
just go to sleep, if 'come's we'll fix 'um—needn't fear,
my boys be as true as steel.”

I gave him to understand that I was little concerned
on my own account; that it was his safety alone that interested
me, and I thought little of watching by him till
day.

“Oh lay thee down my son, and take thy rest, no
danger at all—The men will call me in case of surprise,
and Sambo,” said he, “trim thy lamp—fellow does't
hear?—keep up a light.” Then asking the interiour
guard if their peices were well charged and primed, he
betook himself to his wonted repose.

The inside guard consisted of six men. Six others
were lying snoring near the door which opened into that
part of the cavern where the prisoners were confined;
those last were to relieve the first at twelve o'clock. Fifteen
were under arms on the outside of the cavern, which
were to be relieved at the same hour by a like number,
who were then locked fast in the arms of sleep. The
faithful Sambo was traversing the cavern backwards and
forward and trimming his lamp alternately, while his
generous master was snoring by my side. The guard
had told nine, starlight and all well. I found myself
growing sleepy, but before I resigned myself to sweet
oblivion, I wished to settle our mode of proceeding with
Wilson, which for the first time since our acquaintance
produced some painful feelings on both sides, and asked
him whether he intended to proceed immediately to Tennessee,
or go on with us to New-York? (where my uncle
was bound.)

“You could not expect me,” said he, “to be so near
my parents without calling to see them. Consider what
they have done for me; I should be the most ungrateful
wretch on earth, were I to pass by without calling to see
them. True I am as anxious to visit Boston as you can

possibly be, and shall proceed to that place immediately
after paying my respects to my parents. You certainly
mean to accompany me through Tennessee.”

He spoke this with a degree of warmth which cut me
to the heart.

“Dear Henry,” said I, “you know I would go with
you to the end of the world; but you know my situation:
how it stands with my uncle. He will expect me to go
with him, and how am I to refuse? You know the obligation
we are both under to him.”

He replied “that it was true, I owed as much to him
as he did to his parents—but Burlington, do you not owe
me something?”

“Yes, Wilson—I owe more to you than any earthly
being; but I merely hinted how difficult it will be, to obtain
my uncle's consent—I had no thoughts of wounding
your feelings. Wilson,” said I, “you have known me
long, and you have known me well, you had no right to
suspect me; you know that you are dearer to me than
my own soul.”

“No more,” said he, pressing me to his bosom.—
“Charles”—he could say no more, the word choked him
—I threw my arms round him, returning his embrace!
We both sobbed! But the pleasure of that moment was
worth—no!—it was invaluable—I would not have exchanged
it for worlds. It was the perfection of happiness,
or friendship rather, and such as vulgar souls never
knew. After our feelings had subsided, I found that
sleep had vanished, and proposed to get up and take a
(glass we had none) cup of wine, and smoke a segar, to
which he assented.

Taking a hearty draught of wine, and lighting the segars
furnished us by Sambo, we seated ourselves one on
each side of the table, having the lamp between us. I
looked at Wilson—I thought he never looked so amiable.

“Oh Charles,” said he with a smile, “have you forgiven
me?”

“Have I forgiven myself? you ought to have said.”

The rest was silence—it was the eloquence of the
heart—it was rapture. Those who have tasted the sweets
of friendship will understand what we felt, as we sat

and gazed at each other. Oh friendship! thou sweetener
of our woes—thou first-born of heaven—what is to be put
in competition with thee?

After finishing our segars we lay down, and returning
thanks to our divine preserver, fell asleep.