The Land of Bondage: A RomanceBloundelle-Burton, John
History
The Land of Bondage: A Romance
Bloundelle-Burton, John
Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
"Feel in the pocket over by your left shoulder," replied Quin, "and
you may yet find a drop or so--'twill warm you." Then, turning to me
as the wretched Roderick did as he was bidden, Quin said over his
shoulder, in a whisper, "'Tis a charity to give it him. It is the last
he will taste for many a day. The skippers do not give their prisoners
aught else but water on these cruises, and as for the planters--if all
accounts be true!---they treat their white slaves no better." After
saying which he bent to his oar again.
For a moment the draught seemed to arouse Roderick and even to put
sense into his muddled pate, since, as he gazed on the shore on either
side, he muttered, "This is not the way home. Not the way I know of";
but, even as he did so, the fumes of the overnight's liquor, stirred
up perhaps by the new accession of drink, got the better of him again
and once more he closed his eyes.
"'Tis thy way home at any rate," I heard Oliver mutter; "the way to
the only home you will know of for some years. And may it be as happy
a one to thee as thou destined it for thy cousin." Then turning
swiftly to me, he said, "Pull two strokes, Gerald; we are alongside
the _Dove_."
As we slewed round to run alongside the gangway, there stood at the
top of it as villainous a looking old man as ever it was my lot to
see. An old man clad in a dirty plush suit with, on his head, a hat
covered with tarnished, or rather blackened, silver lace; one who
squinted hideously down at us.
"Whence come you, friends?" he asked. "From the noble Captain
O'Rourke," replied Oliver, "and we bring you his parting gift. The
youth is not well, having partaken freely over night, doubting,
perhaps, of your hospitality. Now, sir, if you will produce the price
named to the Captain and send down a man or so to haul him on board,
he is very much at your service."
"Ay, ay," said the captain, "let's see him though, first. I don't want
to buy a dead man--as I did up at Glasgow not long ago--or one who has
lost his limbs. Here, Jabez, and you, Peter, jump down and haul him
up," while, as he spoke, he produced a filthy skin bag from his pocket
and began counting out some guineas into his palm.
Those called Jabez and Peter--one of whom was a negro--did as they
were bidden, and, shoving our boat a little forward so as to bring the
stern, where Roderick lay, up to the platform of the gangway, they
quickly threw off the cloak, and, seizing his limbs, began to lift
them up and let them fall, to see that they were not broken nor he
dead. But such treatment even this poor bemused and sodden creature
could not bear without protest, so, as the men seized him and swiftly
bore him up the gangway until he stood upon the deck of the _Dove_--a
filthy, dirty-looking craft, with, however, a great, high poop much
ornamented with brass and gilding--he began to strike out right and
left, and to scream and ejaculate.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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