Part 69 (1/2)

”But you must have been sweet upon her, c.o.c.kle?”

”Nothing more than a little sugar to take the nauseous taste of my long bill out of her mouth. As for the love part of the story, that was all her own. I never contradict a lady, because it's not polite; but since I explained, the old woman has huffed, and wo'n't trust me with half a quartern--will she, Moons.h.i.+ne?”

”No, sar: when I try talk her over, and make promise, she say dat _all moons.h.i.+ne_. But, sar, I try 'gain--I tink I know how.” And Moons.h.i.+ne disappeared, leaving us in the dark as to what his plans might be.

”I wonder you never did marry, c.o.c.kle,” I observed.

”You would not wonder if you knew all. I must say, that once, and once only, I was very near it. And to whom do you think it was--a woman of colour.”

”A black woman?”

”No: not half black, only a quarter--what they call a quadroon in the West Indies. But, thank Heaven! she refused me.”

”Refused you! hang it, c.o.c.kle, I never thought that you had been refused by a woman of colour.”

”I was, though. You shall hear how it happened. She had been the quadroon wife (you know what that means) of a planter of the name of Guiness; he died, and not only bequeathed her her liberty, but also four good houses in Port Royal, and two dozen slaves. He had been dead about two years, and she was about thirty, when I first knew her. She was very rich, for she had a good income and spent nothing, except in jewels and dress to deck out her own person, which certainly was very handsome, even at that time, for she never had had any family. Well, if I was not quite in love with her, I was with her houses and her money; and I used to sit in her verandah and talk sentimental. One day I made my proposal.

'Ma.s.sa c.o.c.kle,' said she, 'dere two ting I not like; one is, I not like your name. 'Pose I 'cept you offer, you must change you name.'

”'Suppose you accept my offer, Mistris Guiness, you'll change your name. I don't know how I am to change mine,' I replied.

”'I make 'quiry, Ma.s.sa c.o.c.kle, and I find that by act and parliament you get anoder name.'

”'An act of parliament!' I cried.

”'Yes, sar; and I pay five hundred gold Joe 'fore I hear people call me Missy c.o.c.kle--dat _sh.e.l.l_ fish,' said she, and she turned up her nose.

”'Humph!' said I, 'and pray what is the next thing which you wish?'

”'De oder ting, sar, is, you no ab _coat am arms_, no ab seal to your watch, with bird and beast pon 'em; now 'pose you promise me dat you take oder name, and buy um coat am arms; den, sar, I take de matter into 'sideration.'

”'Save yourself the trouble, ma'am,' said I, jumping up; 'my answer is short--I'll see you and your whole generation hanged first!'”

”Well, that was a very odd sort of a wind-up to a proposal; but here comes Moons.h.i.+ne.”

The black entered the room, and put a full bottle down on the table.

”Dare it is, sar,” said he, grinning.

”Well done, Moons.h.i.+ne, now I forgive you; but how did you manage it?”

”Me tell you all de tory, sar--first I see Missy O'Bottom, and I say, 'How you do, how you find yourself dis marning? Ma.s.sa come, I tink, by-an-bye, but he almost fraid,' I said. She say, 'What he fraid for?'

'He tink you angry--not like see him--no lub him any more: he very sorry, very sick at 'art--he very much in lub wid you.'”

”The devil you did!” roared c.o.c.kle; ”now I shall be bothered again with that old woman; I wish she was moored as a buoy to the Royal George.”

”Ma.s.sa no hear all yet. I say, 'Miss...o...b..ttom, 'pose you no tell?' 'I tell.'--'Ma.s.sa call for clean s.h.i.+rt dis morning, and I say, it no clean s.h.i.+rt day, sar;' he say, 'Bring me clean s.h.i.+rt;' and den he put him on clean s.h.i.+rt and he put him on clean duck trousers, he make me brush him best blue coat. I say, 'What all dis for, ma.s.sa?' He put him hand up to him head, and he fetch him breath and say--'I fraid Missy O'Bottom, no hear me now--I no ab courage;' and den he sit all dress ready, and no go. Den he say, 'Moons.h.i.+ne, gib me one gla.s.s grog, den I ab courage.' I go fetch bottel, and all grog gone--not one lilly drop left; den ma.s.sa fall down plump in him big chair, and say, 'I nebber can go.' 'But,' say Missy O'Bottom, 'why he no send for some?' ''Cause,' I say, 'quarter-day not come--money all gone.'--Den say she, 'If you poor ma.s.sa so _very_ bad, den I trust you one bottel--you gib my compliments and say, I very appy to see him, and stay at home.'--Den I say, 'Missy O'Bottom pose ma.s.sa not come soon as he take one two gla.s.s grog cut my head off.' Dat all, sar.”

”That's all, is it? A pretty sc.r.a.pe you have got me into, you scoundrel!

What's to be done now?”