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- preservation, but likewise to him, chiefly, the merit is due, of
pacifying his more ignorant brethren, when at intervals tempted to
murmurings.”
“Ah, master,” sighed the black, bowing his face, “don’t speak of me;
Babo is nothing; what Babo has done was but duty.”
“Faithful fellow!” cried Captain Delano. “Don Benito, I envy you such a
friend; slave I cannot call him.”
As master and man stood before him, the black upholding the white,
Captain Delano could not but bethink him of the beauty of that
relationship which could present such a spectacle of fidelity on the
one hand and confidence on the other. The scene was heightened by, the
contrast in dress, denoting their relative positions. The Spaniard wore
a loose Chili jacket of dark velvet; white small-clothes and stockings,
with silver buckles at the knee and instep; a high-crowned sombrero, of
fine grass; a slender sword, silver mounted, hung from a knot in his
sash—the last being an almost invariable adjunct, more for utility than
ornament, of a South American gentleman’s dress to this hour. Excepting
when his occasional nervous contortions brought about disarray, there
was a certain precision in his attire curiously at variance with the
unsightly disorder around; especially in the belittered Ghetto, forward
of the main-mast, wholly occupied by the blacks.
The servant wore nothing but wide trowsers, apparently, from their
coarseness and patches, made out of some old topsail; they were clean,
and confined at the waist by a bit of unstranded rope, which, with his
composed, deprecatory air at times, made him look something like a
begging friar of St. Francis.
However unsuitable for the time and place, at least in the
blunt-thinking American’s eyes, and however strangely surviving in the
midst of all his afflictions, the toilette of Don Benito might not, in
fashion at least, have gone beyond the style of the day among South
Americans of his class. Though on the present voyage sailing from
Buenos Ayres, he had avowed himself a native and resident of Chili,
whose inhabitants had not so generally adopted the plain coat and once
plebeian pantaloons; but, with a becoming modification, adhered to
their provincial costume, picturesque as any in the world. Still,
relatively to the pale history of the voyage, and his own pale face,
there seemed something so incongruous in the Spaniard’s apparel, as
almost to suggest the image of an invalid courtier tottering about
London streets in the time of the plague.
The portion of the narrative which, perhaps, most excited interest, as
well as some surprise, considering the latitudes in question, was the
long calms spoken of, and more particularly the ship’s so long drifting
about. Without communicating the opinion, of course, the American could
not but impute at least part of the detentions both to clumsy
seamanship and faulty navigation. Eying Don Benito’s small, yellow
hands, he easily inferred that the young captain had not got into
command at the hawse-hole, but the cabin-window; and if so, why wonder
at incompetence, in youth, sickness, and gentility united?
But drowning criticism in compassion, after a fresh repetition of his
sympathies, Captain Delano, having heard out his story, not only
engaged, as in the first place, to see Don Benito and his people
supplied in their immediate bodily needs, but, also, now farther
promised to assist him in procuring a large permanent supply of water,
as well as some sails and rigging; and, though it would involve no
small embarrassment to himself, yet he would spare three of his best
seamen for temporary deck officers; so that without delay the ship
might proceed to Conception, there fully to refit for Lima, her
destined port.
Such generosity was not without its effect, even upon the invalid. His
face lighted up; eager and hectic, he met the honest glance of his
visitor. With gratitude he seemed overcome.
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- Chunk 11