monkey had scrambled round to his back, and was beating a tattoo with his tiny fists on his shoulders, Banou caught up a bucket and proceeded to draw water from over the side, which he dashed into the tub. When he had nearly filled the tub he felt around with his black paws as delicately as if he was about to seize a musquito, and, clutching the kicking legs with one hand, he spun the little fellow a somersault over his head, and skinning off at the same time his diminutive frock, plunged him into the sparkling brine, singing the while in a laughing chant:
| “Dis is the way strong Banou catch him, First he strip and den he ’plash him; Henri he jump and ’cream for his moder, But Banou lub him more dan his broder!” |
Here the brawny nurse would souse him head over heels in the sparkling water, lift him up at every dip, rub his black nose all over him, making mock bites at the little legs and stomach; and, finally, holding him aloft, dripping, laughing, and struggling, go on with his refrain:
| “What will papa say when he sees him, Picaninny boy dat is sure to please him? Big Banou he rub and dress him, But little Henri he kick and pinch him!” |
All this time the men seated forward on the deck, pegging away deep into their mess-kids, would pause occasionally, shake their great 11 tarry fingers at the imp, and chuckle pleasantly with their mouths full of lobscouse, as if the urchin belonged to them as individual property.
“What a tidy little chap he’ll make some of these days,” said Ben, “a-furlin’ the light sails in a squall! My eye! wouldn’t I like to live and see him!”
“No, no, messmates,” replied that worthy, as he crunched a biscuit and took a sip of coffee out of the pot, “that ’ere child will, some of these times, when he’s growed a bit, be a-wearing gold swabs on his shoulders, and a-givin’ his orders like a hadmiral of a fleet!”
“Quite right, my hearty! It’ll never do for sich a knowin’ little chub to spend his days along shore a-bilin’ sugar-cane on a plantation, and a-footin’ up accounts; for, ye mind, he was like the chip as was
| “ ‘Born at sea, and his cradle a frigate, The boatswain he nursed him true blue; He’ll soon learn to fight, drink, and jig it, And quiz every soul of the crew!’ ” |
While these old salts were thus carving out a destiny for the youngster, the black gave him a final souse in the tub, and then holding him up to drain, as it were, for the last time, exclaimed, while his face lighted up with pleasure,
“Oho, my little massa! what will papa say to-morrow when he sees his brave Henri?”
“Ah! how happy he will be, Banou!” said the lovely mother, who had just come on deck, as she kissed the mouth of the young scamp, while the black wrapped and dried his little naked body in a large towel.
“Ah! yes, my mistress, we all will be happy once more to get home to master on the plantation.”
“Tell me! tell me, good capitaine,” said she, turning in a pretty coquettish way to the skipper, “when shall we get in port?”
It was a sight to see her, in the loose white morning-gown folded in plaits about the swelling bosom, her slender waist clasped by a flowing blue sash, the dark brown satin bands of her hair confined by a large gold filigree pin, and half concealed by a jaunty little French cap, with the ribbons floating about her pear-shaped ears; and while her soft, dark hazel eyes were bent eagerly toward the solid old skipper, her round, rosy, dimpled fingers clasped a miniature locket fastened by a massive linked gold chain around her neck. Ah! she was a sight to see and love!
“Tell me, mon cher Capitaine Blunt, how many hours or minutes will it be before I shall behold my husband?”
The good-natured skipper laughed pleasantly at the eagerness of his beautiful passenger, and opening his hands wide, he gave vent to a long, low whistle, and replied,
12
“When the wind comes from good San Antonio, my Lady Bird––when the sea-breeze makes––then the old brig will reel off the knots! But see! just now not a breath to keep a tropic bird’s wings out. There, look at that fellow!”
High up in the heavens, two or three men-of-war birds, with wide-spread pointed wings, and their swallow tails cut as sharp as knife-blades, were heading seaward, and every little while falling in a rapid sidelong plunge, as if in a vacuum, and then again giving an almost imperceptible dash with their pinions as they recovered the lost space and continued on in their silent flight.
“That’s a sure sign, Madame Rosalie,” continued the skipper, “that the trade wind has blown itself out, and the chances are that this hot sun will drink up the flying clouds, and leave us in a dead calm till the moon quarters to-night. What say you, Mr. Binks? am I right?”
“Never know’d you to be wrong, sir,” said the mate, with an honest intonation of voice, as he tried to stare the sun out of countenance in following the captain’s glance.
“Hélas!” said the young mother, with a little sigh of sadness, as she stood peering over the lee rail to the green hills and slopes of the island, standing boldly out now with the lofty blue mountains cutting the sky ten thousand feet in mid-heaven; “so near, too; and he is thinking and waiting for us!”
“Come,” exclaimed the skipper, heartily, “the youngster wants his breakfast!”
“WHEN THE WIND COMES FROM GOOD SAN ANTONIO, MY LADY BIRD––”
15
CHAPTER III.
HIGH NOON.
| “No life is in the air, but in the waters Are creatures huge, and terrible, and strong; The swordfish and the shark pursue their slaughters; War universal reigns these depths along. The lovely purple of the noon’s bestowing Has vanished from the waters, where it flung A royal color, such as gems are throwing Tyrian or regal garniture among.” |
High noon! Still the stanch old brig bowed and dipped her bluff bows into the long, easy swell of the tropics; the round, flat counter sent the briny bubbles sparkling away in the glare of the noontide sun; the sails flapped and chafed against the spars and rigging, while the crew sheltered themselves beneath the awnings, and dozed on peacefully.
Off to seaward a few dead trade-clouds showed their white bulging cheeks along the horizon, and occasionally a fluttering blue patch of a breeze would skim furtively over the backs of the rollers; but long before they reached the brig they had expended their force, and expired in the boundless calm.
Not so, however, with the large sail that had been seen from the brig in the early morning. For, with a lofty spread of kites and a studding-sail or two, she at times caught a flirting puff of air, and when the sun had passed the zenith she had approached within half a mile or less of the brig. There was no mistaking the stranger’s character. Her taunt, trim masts, square yards, and clear, delicate black tracery of rigging, shadowed by a wide spread of snow-white canvas over the low, dark hull––which at every roll in the gentle undulations exposed a row of ports with a glance of white inner bulwarks––while the brass stars of her battery reflected sparks of fire from the blazing rays of the sun, showed she was a man-of-war.
“She’s one of our cruisers, I think, sir,” said the mate, as he handed the spy-glass to the captain; “but Ben here believes contrariwise, and says she is a French corvette.”
“Have to try again, Mr. Binks; for, to my mind, she’s an out-and-out Yankee sloop-of-war.