If the first toast was received with applause, this was with enthusiasm;
but we received a damper after it was subsided, by the lady of the house
getting up and saying--"Now, gentlemen and ladies, me tink it right to
say dat it time to go home; I nebber allow people get drunk or kick up
bobbery in my house, so now I tink we better take parting-glass, and
very much obliged to you for your company."
As O'Brien said, this was a broad hint to be off, so we all now took our
parting-glass, in compliance with her request and our own wishes, and
proceeded to escort our partners on their way home. While I was
assisting Miss Minerva to her red crape shawl, a storm was brewing in
another quarter, to wit, between Mr Apollo Johnson and O'Brien.
O'Brien was assiduously attending to Miss Eurydice, whispering what he
called soft blarney in her ear, when Mr Apollo, who was above
spirit-boiling heat with jealousy, came up, and told Miss Eurydice that
he would have the honour of escorting her home.
"You may save yourself the trouble, you dingy gut-scraper," replied
O'Brien; "the lady is under my protection, so take your ugly black face
out of the way, or I'll show you how I treat a `'Badian who is really
too brave.'"
"So 'elp me Gad, Massa Lieutenant, 'pose you put a finger on me, I show
you what 'Badian can do."
Apollo then attempted to insert himself between O'Brien and his lady,
upon which O'Brien shoved him back with great violence, and continued
his course towards the door. They were in the passage when I came up,
for hearing O'Brien's voice in anger, I left Miss Minerva to shift for
herself.
Miss Eurydice had now left O'Brien's arm, at his request, and he and Mr
Apollo were standing in the passage, O'Brien close to the door, which
was shut, and Apollo swaggering up to him. O'Brien, who knew the tender
part of a black, saluted Apollo with a kick on the shins, which would
have broken my leg. Massa Johnson roared with pain, and recoiled two or
three paces, parting the crowd away behind him. The blacks never fight
with fists, but butt with their heads like rams, and with quite as much
force. When Mr Apollo had retreated he gave his shin one more rub,
uttered a loud yell, and started at O'Brien, with his head aimed at
O'Brien's chest, like a battering-ram. O'Brien, who was aware of this
plan of fighting, stepped dexterously on one side, and allowed Mr
Apollo to pass by him, which he did with such force, that his head went
clean through the panel of the door behind O'Brien, and there he stuck
as fast as if in a pillory, squealing like a pig for assistance, and
foaming with rage. After some difficulty he was released, and presented
a very melancholy figure. His face was much cut, and his superb jabot
all in tatters; he appeared, however, to have had quite enough of it, as
he retreated to the supper-room, followed by some of his admirers,
without asking or looking after O'Brien.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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