The White Squall: A Story of the Sargasso SeaHutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
General
The White Squall: A Story of the Sargasso Sea
Hutcheson, John C. (John Conroy)
Sargasso Sea -- Fiction
This speech of his made me stifle my sobs; and, although I couldn't get
out any words to answer him, I swallowed something hard that was
sticking in my throat. Then, putting Prince in a canter, I rode up to
the side of my mother, who was in front with Baby Tot.
By that time I had regained my composure and was able to talk and make
fun with my little sister, who, not knowing, of course, the purport of
our expedition, thought it was a party of pleasure got up especially for
her gratification. She was in a state of supreme delight, crowing and
chuckling away in the greatest possible glee, every now and then putting
up her little rosebud of a mouth to be kissed by mother and me.
Jake, I observed, looked very serious as he ran along by the side of
Prince, resting one of his hands on my pony's flanks, as was his habit
when he accompanied me out riding. The other negroes, who were carrying
my luggage down to town on their heads, in their customary fashion of
bearing all burdens whether light or heavy, were laughing and jabbering
together like a parcel of black crows; but he never spoke a word either
to his dark-complexioned brethren or to me, exhibiting such a striking
contrast to his ordinary demeanour that even dad noticed it and asked
him the reason, wondering what was the matter with him.
"Me not berry well, massa," however, was all the answer he could get out
of Jake; but the faithful fellow looked at me so wistfully whenever I
caught his eye that I recalled what he had said about wishing to go in
the ship with me, on the night when we returned from Grenville Bay.
He had not alluded to the subject since, though, so I really thought he
had forgotten it; and now, as he did not appear inclined to talk, I
believed it best to let him alone, not wishing to hurt his feelings by
dwelling on the impossible.
I could see that he was much put out about something; so I came to the
conclusion that his change of manner, so unlike his usual light-hearted
merry self, was due to his grief at parting with me, he having been my
constant companion ever since I had been able to toddle about, when my
father first settled down on the plantation, at which time I was only a
little five-year-old boy and he a darkey stripling.
There was no racing down the road now at breakneck speed, like that time
when in my hurry to meet dad I had come to grief some two months
previously. Our cavalcade went on at a sober respectable pace, reaching
the town in about an hour and a half from our start.
As we were passing by the bend in the road, opposite Government House,
whence there was such a good view of the harbour below, Jake spoke to me
for the first time during the journey.
"Dar am de ship, Mass' Tom!" he said, pointing out the _Josephine_ lying
out in the anchorage under Fort Saint George.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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