The Strange Adventures of Captain Dangerous, Vol. 2: Who was a sailor, a soldier, a merchant, a spy, a slave; among the moors...Sala, George Augustus
General
The Strange Adventures of Captain Dangerous, Vol. 2: Who was a sailor, a soldier, a merchant, a spy, a slave; among the moors...
Sala, George Augustus
Adventure and adventurers -- Fiction
"But that shall never be, Jack my hearty," Captain Handsell exclaimed,
when, after many more pipes of Tobacco and rummers of Punch, he had
explained these wonderful things to me. "I shall lose my half share in
the venture, and shall have to tell a rare lie to yonder old
Skin-a-flea-for-the-hide-and-fat in London; but what o' that? I tell
thee I won't have the sale of thy flesh and blood on my conscience. No
slave shall you be, forsooth. I have an aunt at Kingston, as honest a
woman as ever broke biscuit, although she has got a dash of the
tar-brush on her mug, and she shall take charge of thee; and if thou
were a gentleman born, I'll be hanged if thou sha'n't be a gentleman
bred."
It would have been more fitted to the performance of this Honourable
and Upright Action towards one that he had no motive at all in serving
(in Fact, his Interest lay right the other way), that I should be able
to chronicle a sensible Reformation in my Commander's bearing and
conduct towards others; but, alas, that I am unable to do; the truth
being that he continued, unto the very end of our voyage, to be towards
the Hands the same brutal and merciless Tyrant that he had once, in the
days of his Rope's-End Discipline, been towards me. 'Twas Punch and
Cobbing, Tobacco and Ugly Words, from the rising of the Sun until the
setting of the same. And for this reason it is (having seen so many
Contradictions in Human character) that I am never surprised to hear of
a Good Action on the part of a very Bad Man, or of a Bad Action done by
him who is ordinarily accounted a very Good one.
_The Humane Hopwood_ was a very shy Sailer,--being, in truth, as Leaky
an old Tub as ever escaped breaking up for Fire-Wood at Lumberers'
Wharfs,--and we were seven weeks at Sea before we fell in with a
trade-wind, and then setting every Rag we could hoist, went gaily before
that Favourable breeze, and so cast anchor at Port Royal in the island
of Jamaica.
Captain Handsell was as good as his word. Not a syllable did he say to
the Sheriff of Kingston about my not being a Transport, or being,
indeed, in the Flesh at all in those parts; for he argued that the
Sheriff might have some foregatherings with the Knight and Alderman of
Bishopsgate Street by correspondence, and that the Wealthy Extortioner
might make use of his credit in the Sugar Islands to do me, some day or
another, an ill turn. But he had me privily on shore when the Transports
had all been assigned to different task-masters; and in due time he
introduced me to his Aunt, his Brother's Wife indeed (and I believe he
had come out to the Island with an Old-Bailey Passport; but Rum and the
climate had been too strong for him, and he had so Died and left her a
Widow).
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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