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- 3052
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:55.409Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 2988
- text
- have been allowed to pass for idle caprice of ill-humor, had not master
and man, lingering round the corner of the elevated skylight, began
whispering together in low voices. This was unpleasing. And more; the
moody air of the Spaniard, which at times had not been without a sort
of valetudinarian stateliness, now seemed anything but dignified; while
the menial familiarity of the servant lost its original charm of
simple-hearted attachment.
In his embarrassment, the visitor turned his face to the other side of
the ship. By so doing, his glance accidentally fell on a young Spanish
sailor, a coil of rope in his hand, just stepped from the deck to the
first round of the mizzen-rigging. Perhaps the man would not have been
particularly noticed, were it not that, during his ascent to one of the
yards, he, with a sort of covert intentness, kept his eye fixed on
Captain Delano, from whom, presently, it passed, as if by a natural
sequence, to the two whisperers.
His own attention thus redirected to that quarter, Captain Delano gave
a slight start. From something in Don Benito’s manner just then, it
seemed as if the visitor had, at least partly, been the subject of the
withdrawn consultation going on—a conjecture as little agreeable to the
guest as it was little flattering to the host.
The singular alternations of courtesy and ill-breeding in the Spanish
captain were unaccountable, except on one of two suppositions—innocent
lunacy, or wicked imposture.
But the first idea, though it might naturally have occurred to an
indifferent observer, and, in some respect, had not hitherto been
wholly a stranger to Captain Delano’s mind, yet, now that, in an
incipient way, he began to regard the stranger’s conduct something in
the light of an intentional affront, of course the idea of lunacy was
virtually vacated. But if not a lunatic, what then? Under the
circumstances, would a gentleman, nay, any honest boor, act the part
now acted by his host? The man was an impostor. Some low-born
adventurer, masquerading as an oceanic grandee; yet so ignorant of the
first requisites of mere gentlemanhood as to be betrayed into the
present remarkable indecorum. That strange ceremoniousness, too, at
other times evinced, seemed not uncharacteristic of one playing a part
above his real level. Benito Cereno—Don Benito Cereno—a sounding name.
One, too, at that period, not unknown, in the surname, to super-cargoes
and sea captains trading along the Spanish Main, as belonging to one of
the most enterprising and extensive mercantile families in all those
provinces; several members of it having titles; a sort of Castilian
Rothschild, with a noble brother, or cousin, in every great trading
town of South America. The alleged Don Benito was in early manhood,
about twenty-nine or thirty. To assume a sort of roving cadetship in
the maritime affairs of such a house, what more likely scheme for a
young knave of talent and spirit? But the Spaniard was a pale invalid.
Never mind. For even to the degree of simulating mortal disease, the
craft of some tricksters had been known to attain. To think that, under
the aspect of infantile weakness, the most savage energies might be
couched—those velvets of the Spaniard but the silky paw to his fangs.
From no train of thought did these fancies come; not from within, but
from without; suddenly, too, and in one throng, like hoar frost; yet as
soon to vanish as the mild sun of Captain Delano’s good-nature regained
its meridian.
Glancing over once more towards his host—whose side-face, revealed
above the skylight, was now turned towards him—he was struck by the
profile, whose clearness of cut was refined by the thinness, incident
to ill-health, as well as ennobled about the chin by the beard. Away
with suspicion. He was a true off-shoot of a true hidalgo Cereno.
- title
- Chunk 16