Cerise: A Tale of the Last CenturyWhyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
General
Cerise: A Tale of the Last Century
Whyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
Historical fiction
Opening the door with a yawn, and stretching her arms like one lately
roused from sleep, the Quadroon found herself face to face with the
Coromantee, backed by nearly a score of negroes, the idlest and most
dissolute slaves on the estate. All seemed more or less intoxicated,
and Célandine, who knew the African character thoroughly, by no means
liked their looks. She was aware that much disaffection existed in the
plantation, and the absence of this disorderly gang from their work at
so early an hour in the afternoon argued something like open revolt.
It would have been madness, however, to show fear, and the Obi-woman
possessed, moreover, a larger share of physical courage than is usual
with her sex; assuming, therefore, an air of extreme dignity, she
stationed herself in the doorway and demanded sternly what they wanted.
Hippolyte, who seemed to be leader of the party, doffed his cabbage-tree
hat with ironical politeness, and pointing over his shoulder at two
grinning negroes laden with plantains and other garden produce, came to
business at once.
“We buy,—you sell, Missee Célandine. Same as storekeeper down Port
Welcome. Fust ask gentlemen step in, sit down, take something to drink.”
There was that in his manner which made her afraid to refuse, and
inviting the whole party to enter, she accommodated them with difficulty
in the hut. Reviewing her assembled guests, the Quadroon’s heart sank
within her; but she was conscious of possessing cunning and courage, so
summoned both to her aid.
A negro, under excitement, from whatever cause, is a formidable-looking
companion. Those animal points of head and countenance, by which he is
distinguished from the white man, then assume an unseemly prominence. The
lips thicken, the temples swell, the eyes roll, the brow seems to recede,
and the whole face alters for the worse, like that of a vicious horse,
when he lays his ears back, prepared to kick.
Célandine’s visitors displayed all these alarming signs, and several
other disagreeable peculiarities, the result of partial intoxication.
Some of them carried axes, she observed, and all had knives. Their attire
too, though of the gaudiest colours, was extremely scanty, ragged, and
unwashed. They jested with one another freely enough, as they sat huddled
together on the floor of the hut, but showed little of the childish
good-humour common among prosperous and well-ordered slaves; while she
augured the worst from the absence of that politeness which, to do him
justice, is a prominent characteristic of the negro. Nevertheless, she
dissembled her misgivings, affected an air of dignified welcome, handed
round the calabash, with its accompanying stone bottle, to all in turn,
and felt but little reassured to find that the rum was nearly exhausted
when it had completed the circle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account