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- 2026-01-30T20:48:15.023Z
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- 4218
- text
- his back, and then stood behind, not his master’s chair, but Captain
Delano’s. At first, this a little surprised the latter. But it was soon
evident that, in taking his position, the black was still true to his
master; since by facing him he could the more readily anticipate his
slightest want.
“This is an uncommonly intelligent fellow of yours, Don Benito,”
whispered Captain Delano across the table.
“You say true, Señor.”
During the repast, the guest again reverted to parts of Don Benito’s
story, begging further particulars here and there. He inquired how it
was that the scurvy and fever should have committed such wholesale
havoc upon the whites, while destroying less than half of the blacks.
As if this question reproduced the whole scene of plague before the
Spaniard’s eyes, miserably reminding him of his solitude in a cabin
where before he had had so many friends and officers round him, his
hand shook, his face became hueless, broken words escaped; but directly
the sane memory of the past seemed replaced by insane terrors of the
present. With starting eyes he stared before him at vacancy. For
nothing was to be seen but the hand of his servant pushing the Canary
over towards him. At length a few sips served partially to restore him.
He made random reference to the different constitution of races,
enabling one to offer more resistance to certain maladies than another.
The thought was new to his companion.
Presently Captain Delano, intending to say something to his host
concerning the pecuniary part of the business he had undertaken for
him, especially—since he was strictly accountable to his owners—with
reference to the new suit of sails, and other things of that sort; and
naturally preferring to conduct such affairs in private, was desirous
that the servant should withdraw; imagining that Don Benito for a few
minutes could dispense with his attendance. He, however, waited awhile;
thinking that, as the conversation proceeded, Don Benito, without being
prompted, would perceive the propriety of the step.
But it was otherwise. At last catching his host’s eye, Captain Delano,
with a slight backward gesture of his thumb, whispered, “Don Benito,
pardon me, but there is an interference with the full expression of
what I have to say to you.”
Upon this the Spaniard changed countenance; which was imputed to his
resenting the hint, as in some way a reflection upon his servant. After
a moment’s pause, he assured his guest that the black’s remaining with
them could be of no disservice; because since losing his officers he
had made Babo (whose original office, it now appeared, had been captain
of the slaves) not only his constant attendant and companion, but in
all things his confidant.
After this, nothing more could be said; though, indeed, Captain Delano
could hardly avoid some little tinge of irritation upon being left
ungratified in so inconsiderable a wish, by one, too, for whom he
intended such solid services. But it is only his querulousness, thought
he; and so filling his glass he proceeded to business.
The price of the sails and other matters was fixed upon. But while this
was being done, the American observed that, though his original offer
of assistance had been hailed with hectic animation, yet now when it
was reduced to a business transaction, indifference and apathy were
betrayed. Don Benito, in fact, appeared to submit to hearing the
details more out of regard to common propriety, than from any
impression that weighty benefit to himself and his voyage was involved.
Soon, his manner became still more reserved. The effort was vain to
seek to draw him into social talk. Gnawed by his splenetic mood, he sat
twitching his beard, while to little purpose the hand of his servant,
mute as that on the wall, slowly pushed over the Canary.
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