The Maroon. Mayne Reid
“Shoodith” from making rejoinder, and for some moments father and daughter rode on in silence.
The latter was the first to re-commence the conversation.
“You are foolish, good father,” said she; “absurdly foolish.”
“Why, Shoodith?”
“Why? In offering to buy this girl at all.”
“Ay—what would you shay?” inquired the old Jew, as if the interrogatory had been an echo to his own thoughts. “What would you shay?”
“I would say that you are silly, old rabbi Jacob; and that’s what I do say.”
“Blesh my shoul! What dosh you mean, Shoodith?”
“Why, dear and worthy papa, you’re not always so dull of comprehension. Answer me: what do you want the Foolah for?”
“Och! you know what I wants her for, Thish prinshe will give hish twenty Mandingoes for her. There ish no doubt but that she’s his sister. Twenty good shtrong Mandingoes, worth twenty hunder poundsh. Blesh my soul! it’sh a fortune?”
“Well; and if it is a fortune, what then?”
“If it ish? By our fathers! you talk of twenty hunder poundsh ash if monish was dirt.”
“My worthy parent, you misunderstand me.”
“Mishunderstand you, Shoodith?”
“You do. I have more respect for twenty hundred pounds than you give me credit for. So much, as that I advise you to get it.”
“Get it! why, daughter, that ish shoosht what I am trying to do.”
“Ay, and you’ve gone about it in such a foolish fashion, that you run a great risk of losing it.”
“And how would you have me go about it, mine Shoodith?”
“By taking it.”
The slave-merchant suddenly jerked upon the bridle, and pulled his mule to a stand—as he did so darting towards his daughter a look half-puzzled, half-penetrating.
“Good father Jacob,” continued she, halting at the same time, “you are not wont to be so dull-witted. While waiting for you at the gate of this pompous sugar-planter, I could not help reflecting; and my reflections led me to ask the question: what on earth had taken you to his house?”
“And what answer did you find, Shoodith?”
“Oh, not much; only that you went upon a very idle errand.”
“Yesh, it hash been an idle errand: I did not get what I went for.”
“And what matters if you didn’t?”
“Mattersh it? Twenty Mandingoes mattersh a great deal—twenty hunder poundsh currenshy. That ish what it mattersh, Shoodith mine darling!”
“Not the paring of a Mandingo’s toe-nail, my paternal friend.”
“Hach! what shay you, mine wise Shoodith?”
“What say I? Simply, that these Mandingoes might as well have been yours without all this trouble. They may be yet—ay, and their master too, if you desire to have a prince for your slave. I do.”
“Speak out, Shoodith; I don’t understand you.”
“You will presently. Didn’t you say, just now, that Captain Jowler has reasons for not coming ashore?”
“Captain Showler! He would rather land in the Cannibal Islands than in Montego Bay. Well, Shoodith?”
“Rabbi Jessuron, you weary my patience. For the Foolah prince—as you say he is—you are answerable only to Captain Jowler. Captain Jowler comes not ashore.”
“True—it ish true,” assented the Jew, with a gesture that signified his comprehension of these preliminary premises.
“Who, then, is to hinder you from doing as you please in the matter of these Mandingoes?”
“Wonderful Shoodith!” exclaimed the father, throwing up his arms, and turning upon his daughter a look of enthusiastic admiration. “Wonderful Shoodith! Joosh the very thing!—blesh my soul!—and I never thought of it!”
“Well, father; luckily it’s not too late. I have been thinking of it. I knew very well that Kate Vaughan would not part with the girl Yola. I told you she wouldn’t; but, by the bye, I hope you’ve said nothing of what you wanted her for? If you have—”
“Not a word, Shoodith! not a word!”
“Then no one need be a word the wiser. As to Captain Jowler—”
“Showler daren’t show hish face in the Bay: that’sh why he landed hish cargo on the coast. Besides, there wash an understanding between him and me. He doeshn’t care what ish done with the prinshe—not he. Anyhow, he’ll be gone away in twenty-four hours.”
“Then in twenty-four hours the Mandingoes may be yours—prince, attendants, and all. But time is precious, papa. We had better hasten home at once, and strip his royal highness of those fine feathers before some of our curious neighbours come in and see them. People will talk scandal, you know. As for our worthy overseer—”
“Ah, Ravener! he knowsh all about it. I wash obliged to tell him ash we landed.”
“Of course you were; and it will cost you a Mandingo or two to keep his tongue tied: that it will. For the rest, there need be no difficulty. It won’t matter what these savages may say for themselves. Fortunately, there’s no scandal in a black man’s tongue.”
“Wonderful Shoodith!” again exclaimed the admiring parent. “My precious daughter, you are worth your weight in golden guinish! Twenty-four shlaves for nothing, and one of them a born prinshe! Two thousand currenshy! Blesh my soul! It ish a shplendid profit—worth a whole year’s buyin’ and shellin’.” And with this honest reflection, the slave-merchant hammered his mule into a trot, and followed his “precious Shoodith”—who had already given the whip to her horse, and was riding rapidly homeward.
Volume One—Chapter Ten.
The Sea Nymph.
On the third day after the slaver had cast anchor in the Bay of Montego, a large square-rigged vessel made her appearance in the offing; and, heading shoreward, with all sail set, stood boldly in for the harbour. The Union Jack of England, spread to the breeze, floated freely above her taffrail; and various boxes, bales, trunks, and portmanteaus, that could be seen on her deck—brought up for debarkation—as well as the frank, manly countenances of the sailors who composed her crew, proclaimed the ship to be an honest trader. The lettering upon her stern told that she was the “Sea Nymph, of Liverpool.”
Though freighted with a cargo of merchandise, and in reality a merchantman, the presence on board of several individuals in the costume of landsmen, denoted that the Sea Nymph also accommodated passengers.
The majority of these were West India planters, with their families, returning from a visit to the mother country—their sons, perhaps, after graduating at an English university, and their daughters on having received their final polish at some fashionable metropolitan seminary.
Here and there an “attorney”—a constituent element of West Indian society, though not necessarily, as the title suggests, a real limb of the law. Of the latter there might have been one or two, with a like number of unpractised disciples of Aesculapius; both lawyer and doctor bent on seeking fortune—and with fair prospects of finding it in a land notorious for crime as unwholesome