- end_line
- 4661
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T07:57:55.409Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 4595
- text
- Meantime, as if fearful that the continuance of the scene might too
much unstring his master, the servant seemed anxious to terminate it.
And so, still presenting himself as a crutch, and walking between the
two captains, he advanced with them towards the gangway; while still,
as if full of kindly contrition, Don Benito would not let go the hand
of Captain Delano, but retained it in his, across the black’s body.
Soon they were standing by the side, looking over into the boat, whose
crew turned up their curious eyes. Waiting a moment for the Spaniard to
relinquish his hold, the now embarrassed Captain Delano lifted his
foot, to overstep the threshold of the open gangway; but still Don
Benito would not let go his hand. And yet, with an agitated tone, he
said, “I can go no further; here I must bid you adieu. Adieu, my dear,
dear Don Amasa. Go—go!” suddenly tearing his hand loose, “go, and God
guard you better than me, my best friend.”
Not unaffected, Captain Delano would now have lingered; but catching
the meekly admonitory eye of the servant, with a hasty farewell he
descended into his boat, followed by the continual adieus of Don
Benito, standing rooted in the gangway.
Seating himself in the stern, Captain Delano, making a last salute,
ordered the boat shoved off. The crew had their oars on end. The
bowsmen pushed the boat a sufficient distance for the oars to be
lengthwise dropped. The instant that was done, Don Benito sprang over
the bulwarks, falling at the feet of Captain Delano; at the same time
calling towards his ship, but in tones so frenzied, that none in the
boat could understand him. But, as if not equally obtuse, three
sailors, from three different and distant parts of the ship, splashed
into the sea, swimming after their captain, as if intent upon his
rescue.
The dismayed officer of the boat eagerly asked what this meant. To
which, Captain Delano, turning a disdainful smile upon the
unaccountable Spaniard, answered that, for his part, he neither knew
nor cared; but it seemed as if Don Benito had taken it into his head to
produce the impression among his people that the boat wanted to kidnap
him. “Or else—give way for your lives,” he wildly added, starting at a
clattering hubbub in the ship, above which rang the tocsin of the
hatchet-polishers; and seizing Don Benito by the throat he added, “this
plotting pirate means murder!” Here, in apparent verification of the
words, the servant, a dagger in his hand, was seen on the rail
overhead, poised, in the act of leaping, as if with desperate fidelity
to befriend his master to the last; while, seemingly to aid the black,
the three white sailors were trying to clamber into the hampered bow.
Meantime, the whole host of negroes, as if inflamed at the sight of
their jeopardized captain, impended in one sooty avalanche over the
bulwarks.
All this, with what preceded, and what followed, occurred with such
involutions of rapidity, that past, present, and future seemed one.
Seeing the negro coming, Captain Delano had flung the Spaniard aside,
almost in the very act of clutching him, and, by the unconscious
recoil, shifting his place, with arms thrown up, so promptly grappled
the servant in his descent, that with dagger presented at Captain
Delano’s heart, the black seemed of purpose to have leaped there as to
his mark. But the weapon was wrenched away, and the assailant dashed
down into the bottom of the boat, which now, with disentangled oars,
began to speed through the sea.
At this juncture, the left hand of Captain Delano, on one side, again
clutched the half-reclined Don Benito, heedless that he was in a
speechless faint, while his right-foot, on the other side, ground the
prostrate negro; and his right arm pressed for added speed on the after
oar, his eye bent forward, encouraging his men to their utmost.
- title
- Chunk 27