Newton Forster Part 17

"Well, then, that point's settled," said the planter to the woman. "Is it all right, Mattee?"

"Es, ma.s.sa; many tanks to gentleman--very fine name, do very well, sar."

"Doctor, put the name down opposite the register of the birth. Now, Mattee, all's right, good bye," said the planter, leaving the room, and followed by the others.

"Do you really intend to call the child by that name?" inquired Mr Berecroft.

"Why not? it pleases the woman, and is as good as any other; it is of no consequence. They almost all have names, certainly not quite so long as the present; but, as they grow longer, their names grow shorter. This name will first be abbreviated to Chrony; if we find that too long, it will be reduced again to Crow; which by the bye, is not bad name for a negro," said the planter, laughing at the coincidence.

Reader, did you ever perchance, when in a farm-yard, observe hen or other domestic fowl, who having pounced upon half a potato, or something of the same description too large to be bolted down at once, tries to escape with her prize, followed by all the rest, until she either drops it or eludes their vigilance? If so, you form some idea of a negro woman, with a hard word in her mouth; which, although she does not know the meaning of, she considers as an equal treasure.

Newton had turned round to the court-yard, in the centre of which several women were sitting down at various employments; when one who had been busied in some little offices for the woman whom they had just visited, and had in consequence been present at the choice of the name, took her seat with the party in question. To several queries put to her, she replied with extreme hauteur, as if she considered them as impertinent, and frowned upon her companions most majestically.

After a short time she rose, and turning round, with the look of an empress, said, "Now I shall go look after my Hoton-poton-polyba.s.s."

"Eh?" cried one, opening her eyes in wonder.

"What dat?" screamed another.

"How you call dat long ting?" demanded a third.

"Eh! you stupid black tings," replied the proud possessor of the new word, with a look of ineffable scorn, "you no know what um call Poton-hoton-poll-fuss. Me _no tell_ you," continued she, as she walked away, leaving the others almost _white_ with envy and astonishment.

Shortly after this Mr Kingston with his party took their leave of the hospitable old planter, and commenced their return to Bridgetown. They had not proceeded further than a quarter of a mile when, ascending little hill, Newton discovered that a negro was a.s.sisting his own ascent by hanging on to the tail of his mule.

"How you do this morning, sar!" said the man, grinning, as Newton looked round.

"I'm very well, sir, I thank you; but I'm afraid I shall not be able to keep up with the rest, if my mule has to pull you up hill, as well as carry me."

"Es, sar, mule go faster. Ma.s.sa not understand; mule very obstinate, sar. Suppose you want go one way, he go anoder--suppose you pull him back by tail, he go on more."

"Well, if that's the case you may hold on. Do you belong to the plantation?"

"No, sar, me free man. Me work there; carpenter, sar."

"A carpenter! How did you learn your trade, and obtain your freedom?"

"Larn trade board man-of-war, sar--man-of-war make me free."

Mr Berecroft, who had been listening to the colloquy, took up the discourse.

"Were you born in this country?"

"No, sar! me Ashantee man."

"Then how did you come here?"

"Why, sar, ab very fine battle in Ashantee country. Take me and send me down to coast; sell me for slave. Go on board French schooner--English frigate take schooner, send me to Sarra Leon."

"Well, what did you do there?"

"Bind 'prentice, sar, to Ma.s.sa Cawly, for farteen years--all de same as slave; work very hard; yam bad; plenty fever in that country--much better here."

"Then how did you get away from Sierra Leon?"

"Go to sleep one day in de bush--tieves come steal me, take me down to coast, sell me again."

"Well, where did you go then?"

"Bard schooner again, sar. Another man-of-war take schooner in West Indies; send her in prize. Keep and some on board becase want hands; keep me, becase speak little English."

"How did you like a man-of-war?" inquired Newton.

"Man-of-war very fine place; but all slaves there--captain steal men every ship he come to. But sailor no tink so; ebery night we all sing-- Britong nebber, nebber, nebber, will be slave. Make me laugh, sar,"

continued the man, showing his teeth with a broad grin.

"What was the frigate's name?"

"Very fine name, sar, call her Daddy Wise," [_Dedaigneuse_, we suppose.]

"How long were you on board of her?"

"Far year, sar; larn carpenter trade--go to England--pay off--get plenty money--come out here in marchant vessel--England very fine place, too much cold," said the negro, shuddering the bare recollection.

"Now tell me," said Kingston, "of course you recollect being in your own country?--Which do you like best--that or this?"

"Ashantee very good country--Barbadoes very good country. Ashantee nebber work, hab no money--here plenty work, plenty money."

"Well, but where would you rather be, here or there?"

"Don't know, sar. Like to find country where no work, plenty money."

"Not singular in his opinion," observed Newton.

"Men do all work here, sar: women only talk," continued the negro. "My country, men nebber work at all--women do all work, and feed men."

"Then what does the man do?" inquired Berecroft.

"Man, sar," replied the negro proudly, "man go fight--go kill."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, sar, that all."

"So, you then mean to say, that if you could go back to Ashantee now, you would remain there?"

"Yes, sar, stay there--do no work--sleep all day--make women feed me."

"How inveterate is early habit!" observed Mr Berecroft. "This man, although free in a civilised country, would return to his idleness and resume his former ignorance."