Part 96 (1/2)

Poor Ma.s.sa Allen good ma.s.sa, but won't do what Caesar say. He berry ill now, and get frighten of Ma.s.sa Huggins. Tell Caesar one day he wish Ma.s.sa Huggins die.”

”He told you that!” said Murray, for the black had ceased speaking, and his narrative had so great a fascination for the lad that he wanted to hear more.

”Yes, ma.s.sa; um say he wish Ma.s.sa Huggin die so that poor n.i.g.g.ah boy be happy again and do um work. Ma.s.sa Allen say so free time to Caesar, and den Caesar wait till Ma.s.sa Huggins go out and Caesar go in to Ma.s.sa Allen in de cottage, where um sit down by de table like dat.” And the black rested his head sidewise upon his elbow and hand. ”'What you want, Caesar, lad?' he say, and um put um white hand on Caesar black arm. 'Poor n.i.g.g.ah ill and can't work? Bad time, Caesar, to be sick man.' 'Yes, ma.s.sa,' I say to um. 'Berry bad to be sick man.' 'Who is it, my lad?' he say. 'Caesar, ma.s.sa,' I say to um. 'Caesar berry sick.' 'You bad, Caesar!' him say. 'Your ma.s.sa berry sorry, for you de only frien' I got in de worl' now, Caesar.' 'Yes, ma.s.sa,' I say.

'Caesar know dat.' 'What de matter, boy?' he say. 'Caesar bad to see ma.s.sa so berry sick. Caesar 'fraid ma.s.sa die.' 'Ah, dat's berry good of you, Caesar,' he say--'berry good. Then you no want me to give you doctor 'tuff?' 'No, ma.s.sa,' I said. 'n.i.g.g.e.r know what to do when n.i.g.g.ah ill. Shut um mouf up tight free day, and n.i.g.g.ah quite well again.' 'Ah, Caesar,' he say, 'dat do me no good, dat not do for your ma.s.sa.' Then I say to um, 'No, ma.s.sa, but you let Caesar do ma.s.sa good and um quite well again and make all de poor n.i.g.g.ah happy over again.'

'No, no, my boy,' um say; 'nebber again.' 'Yes, ma.s.sa,' I say; 'you let Caesar try.' 'What wiv?' um say, laughing; and den I say in um whisper like: 'Fetish, ma.s.sa.'”

”What!” cried Murray, half indignantly. ”You don't believe in that nonsense, Caesar?”

”Not nonsense, ma.s.sa.”

”Well, my good fellow,” said Murray, rather coldly, ”I'm not going to argue with you now, but some other time, I hope. Now tell me, what did Mr Allen say?”

”Um say, 'No, my lad, no; I'll hab none of dat.'”

”Of course; but surely he does not believe in it?”

”Yes, ma.s.sa; um believe for sure. Ma.s.sa Allen know what n.i.g.g.ah know and bring from own country. But Ma.s.sa Allen say, 'Nebber, nebber, Caesar.

Your ma.s.sa done too much bad in dis worl', and he nebber do no more now.'”

”Well, that's very good of him, Caesar, but I don't quite understand what you mean.”

”No, ma.s.sa? Dat Huggins bad man do bad things to everybody. Make Ma.s.sa Allen ill and go die. Ma.s.sa Allen say not fit to live.”

”And quite right too, Caesar.”

”Yes, sah. Ma.s.sa Allen quite right, and Caesar come one night and bring n.i.g.g.ah Obeah and put in bad Ma.s.sa Huggin rum. Den Ma.s.sa Huggin drink.u.m, drink.u.m, and go drefful bad and nebber flog no more poor n.i.g.g.ah.

Nebber. Poor n.i.g.g.ah dance and sing, and Ma.s.sa Allen get well.”

”But--what--here--I say, Caesar!” cried Murray, staring hard at the black--”You don't mean to say that you mean you would poison the wretch!”

”Yes, ma.s.sa,” said the black, in the most innocent way. ”Gib um Obeah snake poison. Gib um manchineel in um rum. Make um curl up and go dead.”

”Oh, that wouldn't do at all, Caesar,” cried Murray earnestly. ”He's a horribly bad wretch, of course.”

”Yes, ma.s.sa; ollible bad wretch, and ought to be killed dead; but Ma.s.sa Allen say no, he won't do any more wicked thing.”

”And he is quite right, Caesar.”

”No, sah,” said the black, shaking his head. ”Not do no wicked thing.

Caesar do it, and it not wicked thing. All good.”

”No, no; it would be murder, Caesar,” cried the middy.

”What murder, ma.s.sa?”

”Eh? What is murder? Why, to kill innocent people.”

”What innocent people, ma.s.sa?”