Antigua and the Antiguans (Vol. 1&2). Mrs. Lanaghan
gave me when, torn from all my heart holds dear, and forced into their ships, they brought me to this country, and sold me, for a miserable pittance, to the man I despise—the man who, for a small fault, had me flogged until the blood gushed down my back. Yes! flogged me, who was born heir to a kingdom, and who followed the chase in my own bright land, free as the zephyr which kisses its sunny mountains, until the fortunes of war made me the despised, degraded slave I am. Call me not ‘Count,’ I say; for every misery I have ever borne is recalled by that hated name. Why was it I spurned poor Nuno from me, and embittered her after life? Because, in a moment of repose—when the weary toil of the day was over—seated before our hut in the bright moonbeam, I talked to her of Africa, and of my hopes of soon escaping from my degraded state, she raised the demon within me by calling me ‘Count,’ when I had taught her to use no other name but ‘Klaas;’ and thus bringing all my wrongs before me, I vowed to sacrifice our child to the gods of my country should its eyes ever see the light. Oh, then, call me not ‘Count’ in this wild ravine, where everything breathes an air of freedom, although I am obliged to bear it (but not for long, I hope) before the abhorred Christians. Oh! call me not ‘Count.’ unless—” and he flung his arms on high, while his eyeballs rolled in fire, and every nerve quivered with emotion—“unless you wish to see me, like the hunted lanté turn on all alike. But enough;”—and by strong effort he mastered his turbulent passions, although the perspiration flowed from off his forehead in large drops, and his breast heaved like the stormy billow;—“I came not here to-night to recite my wrongs, or the wrongs of these my comrades; but to plan our redemption from them, and the destruction of our enemies. To business, then. But first let me ask you, Morah, has Obeah given the sign?”
“An’ think you me come here to-night had he not?” returned the old woman, doggedly; “ay, that he has, and a good sign it is; but p’raps you no want white man dead, eh? And again the hag uttered her horrible laugh, which seemed still more so in the midst of a clap of thunder, while her miserable form looked more unearthly in the lightning’s flash.
“Death to our foes!” broke from the lips of the leader, which was repeated by all the band; and then breaking up the circle in which they had been standing, they proceeded to prepare the different articles used in their superstitious orgies, under the inspection of old Morah, while Klaas and his general, Tomboy, conferred apart.
A large hole being dug in the middle of the ravine, and all things properly arranged, the king and his companion were called; when, joining in a rank around the opening, the mysterious rites began. Morah, squatting at one end of the aperture, called upon Obeah, under the title of Nzambiampongee, to assist them in the extirpation of their foes; and after many a mumbled incantation, proceeded to bury in the hole small quantities of gunpowder, rusty iron, a little money, and a portion of human hair; while Klaas added to the heap by throwing in a few bujis.47 After another incantation was chanted by them all, the hole was carefully covered over with black dog-bush,48 and the earth once more thrown in and pressed down. At this moment a night-raven screeched, and Morah interpreted it as a kindly sign from Obeah; whilst a beautiful speckled snake, gliding over the spot, was greeted by Klaas as his country’s god. This ceremony over, Morah departed, and other business was discussed. Seated upon his rustic throne, Klaas issued his mandates to his attentive subjects, who, stretched around, looked up to him as their presiding divinity.
“In eight days’ time,” began their king, in a distinct and audible tone, “there is to be a ball given by the governor, in honour, they say, of their king, and as all our tyrants are expected to be present, it has been determined to make that night the scene of our grand endeavours, that, at one stroke, shall destroy our enemies, and make us once more free. Under yonder bushes, where the earth looks fresh, are buried the kegs of gunpowder which we have, at various times, been enabled to collect; and the night before the ball takes place do you, Quashey Coonah, make it your business to remove them carefully up to Clark’s hill, where Harry, who has been lately hired there, will have them placed under the cellar. Frank, I look to you to take care of what arms we have procured, and also to distribute them. You will also have those bills sharpened—they may prove very useful. I make it my duty to fire the train about the time the moon rises above the top of yon mountain, while Tomboy will lead the party who is to prevent any of the whites escaping. Hercules will lay in wait with his band at the entrance of the town; so that, when the flames rise high, and the inhabitants hasten to give them assistance, he may fall upon them and prevent them. I have sent him and Jemmy to meet a large party of negroes up to windward to-night, who, no doubt, will aid us with their force; and as many of them are in the habit of going out shooting for their masters, they may be able to add a little to our stock of powder. Ned, do you try and obtain what arms you can; in such a cause, any means are fair.
“Ah! that I will, King Klaas; and look what I have brought you to-night,” and turning round, he drew from its sheath a blade of the finest steel; “what say you to Massa Colonel’s own good sword. He told me to take care of it to-day, after he had done looking at it, and to put it carefully up; and so I have, ah! ah!” and Ned laughed until the water ran down his cheeks.
“That’s right, my fine fellow!” exclaimed Klaas; and taking it from the hand of his comrade, he examined, with intense interest, its shining surface. After some moments had passed in this employment, he replaced it carefully in its sheath, and, with something like a sigh, exclaimed—“Well, I have been driven to this. They might have made me their friend, but harshness, contempt, and insult, has conspired to render me what I am; and for this bright weapon, perhaps the gallant Colonel Morgan has often drawn it in a far less worthy cause. But hist! I hear the sound of horses’ feet, and it is time we part. At the close of three more days, meet me here again to receive final orders; till then, farewell; and remember our motto—‘Death to our foes!’ ” So saying, Klaas rose from his seat, and grasping once more his club, prepared to depart. At this moment, however, a slight rustle was heard among the brushwood, as if some person was retreating, and Klaas, drawing his pistol from his bosom, started forward in that direction, followed by the others. “What could it be?” was the anxious inquiry, when, after a strict search, no object met their view. “What, indeed!” replied their chief; “if it was any of our friends, why did they not come forward; but if it was a foe—a spy—our plans of vengeance will be defeated, and we ourselves dragged to a felon’s death;” and he ground his teeth at the thought. As nothing else could be done, they once more bade good night, and departed to their respective homes, leaving Klaas and his general to make one more attempt to discover the cause of the noise.
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Six times had the chariot of the sun rolled along the heavens, and bright-eyed Phœbus sought his golden couch, since the conspirators gathered around their king in that wild and silent glen. Among the inhabitants of Antigua nothing was talked of but the governor’s ball, which was to be upon the grandest scale imaginable. Many a young heart beat high at the prospect of its gaieties, and many a bright eye grew brighter at the thoughts of the conquests to be made on that eventful night. The few shops which dealt in European fashions were crowded from morning to night with fair visitants, or their femmes de chambre; and laces and bugles, catgut and tiffany, were in constant demand. The busy sempstresses plied their needles with double speed; and various were the flounces and furbelows, pinkings and quiltings, they invented. In the midst of this bustle and activity, this anticipation of joyous festivities, a plaint of distress was borne down upon the gale: the governor’s best-beloved son—the hope and pride of his parents—tossed his fevered head upon the couch of sickness; and in a few short hours, that beautiful and blooming youth lay a stiffened corse.
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In a large but well-arranged apartment, whose open jalousies admitted the evening breeze, loaded with the fragrance of the Arabian jasmine, were seated three persons. Two out of the group ranked under the lofty title of “lords of the creation;” but the third was a young and beautiful creature, whose elegant figure and flowing ringlets bespoke her one of Nature’s fairest flowers. Reclining upon a fauteuil, she drew from a lute sounds so soft and sweet that every sense was held in thraldom; and anon, when she joined her liquid voice, and sang of other days, few