Part 5 (2/2)
Volume One, Chapter VIII.
A HANDSOME OFFER.
On the day after the slave-s.h.i.+p had landed her cargo, and at an early hour in the morning, Mr Vaughan, looking from the front window of his house, perceived a solitary horseman approaching by the long avenue.
As the stranger drew nearer, the animal he bestrode appeared gradually to transform itself into a mule; and the rider was seen to be an old gentleman in a blue coat, with metal b.u.t.tons, and ample outside pockets--under which were breeches and top-boots, both sullied by long wear. A damaged brown beaver hat upon his head, with the edge of a white cotton skull-cap showing beneath it--green goggles upon the nose-- and a large blue umbrella, instead of a whip, grasped in the right hand--enabled Mr Vaughan to identify one of his nearest neighbours: the penn-keeper Jacob Jessuron, who, among other live stock, was also known as an extensive speculator in slaves.
”The old Jew!” muttered Mr Vaughan, with an accent that betokened a certain degree of discontent. ”What can _he_ want at this early hour?
Some slave stock for sale, I suppose? That looked like a trader I saw yesterday in the offing; and he's sure to have had a lot or two out of her. Well, he won't find a market here. Fortunately, I'm stocked.
Morning, Mr Jessuron!” continued he, hailing his visitor as the latter dismounted by the bottom of the stairway. ”As usual, you are early abroad. Business, eh?”
”Ach, yesh, Mishter Vochan! Bishness must be minded. A poor man like me can't afford to shleep late theesh hard times!”
”Ha! ha! Poor man, indeed! That's a capital joke, Mr Jessuron! Come in. Have you breakfasted?”
”Yesh, thanks, Mishter Vochan,” replied the Jew, as he climbed up the steps. ”I always breakfasht at six.”
”Oh, that is early! A gla.s.s of swizzle, then?”
”Thanks, Mishter Vochan; you ish very kind. A glash of shwizzell will be better ash anything else. Itsh warm thish morning.” The _swizzle_, a mixture of rum, sugar, water, and lime-juice, was found in a large punch-bowl that stood upon the sideboard, with a silver ladle resting across the rim, and gla.s.ses set around it. This is a standing drink in the dwelling of a Jamaica planter--a fountain that may be said never to go dry, or, at all events, renewed as soon as exhausted.
Stepping up to the sideboard, where he was attended to by a black butler, the penn-keeper briskly quaffed off a tumbler of the swizzle; and then smacking his lips, and adding the observation, ”'Tish goot!” he returned towards the window, where a chair had been placed for him beside the one already occupied by his host.
The visitor removed his beaver hat, though the white skull-cap--not over clean--was still permitted to keep its place upon his head.
Mr Vaughan was a man possessed of considerable courtesy, or at least, an affectation of it. He remained silent, therefore, politely waiting for his guest to initiate the conversation.
”Well, Mishter Vochan,” began the Jew, ”I hash come over to see you on a shmall bishness--a very shmall bishness it is, shcarcely worth troubling you about.”
Here the speaker hesitated, as if to put some proposition into shape.
”Some black stock for sale, eh? I think I've heard that a cargo came in yesterday. You got part, I suppose?”
”Yesh, yesh, I bought a shmall lot, a very shmall lot. I hadn't the monish to buy more. S'help me gott! the shlaves ish getting so dear ash I can't afford to buy. This talk about shtoppin' the trade ish like to ruin ush all. Don't you think so, Mishter Vochan?”
”Oh, as for that, _you_ needn't fear. If the British Government should pa.s.s the bill, the law will be only a dead letter. They could never guard the whole of the African coast--no, nor that of Jamaica neither.
I think, Mr Jessuron, you would still contrive to land a few bales, eh?”
”Ach, no, Mishter Vochan! dear, oh dear, no! I shouldn't venture againsht the laws. If the trade ish to be stop, I musht give up the bishness. Slaves would be too dear for a poor Jewsh man like me to deal in: s'help me, yes.h.!.+ they're too dear ash it ish.”
”Oh, that's all nonsense about their getting dearer! It's very well for you to talk so, Mr Jessuron: you have some to sell, I presume?”
”Not now, Mishter Vochan, not now. Poss.h.i.+ble, I may have a shmall lot to dishpose of in a day or two; but joosht now, I haven't a s.h.i.+ngle head ready for the market. Thish morning I want to buy, instead of sh.e.l.l.”
”To buy! From me, do you mean?”
”Yesh, Mishter Vochan, if you're disposed to sh.e.l.l.”
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