Without companions, host and guest sat down, like a childless married
couple, at opposite ends of the table, Don Benito waving Captain Delano
to his place, and, weak as he was, insisting upon that gentleman being
seated before himself.
The negro placed a rug under Don Benito’s feet, and a cushion behind
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.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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