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Updated: April 30, 2025
He was a fidgety person, always twitching with his hands, and he walked with something of a strut, as though the earth belonged to him. He snapped-to the case of his binoculars as though he had sheathed a sword. Later in the day, after supper, in the second dog-watch, as I sat smoking on the fore-coamings, he came up to me and spoke to me. "You know zees coas'?" he asked. Yes, I knew the coast.
Among another people, reared under wiser care and with better companions, how different might he not have been! How can we speak of him as a law-breaker who might have saved him from that name?" Here the speaker turned to Jean Thompson, and changed his speech to English. "A lady sez to me to-day: 'Père Jerome, 'ow dat is a dreadfool dat 'e gone at de coas' of Cuba to be one corsair!
'N er man bed his pick er places, too didn' hab ter go moseyin erroun' like some ol' hobo lookin' fer day's work, 'n prayin' de good Lord not ter let um fine it. No, sah; roun yer China Sea, coas' Japan, on de line, off shore, Vasquez, 'mong de islan's, ohmos' anywhar, you couldn' hardly git way from 'em.
"Cartain, Mr Fortescue, sar," answered the Krooboy, with conviction. "He lib for die now; what he want to tell me lie for? He no want debbil to come after him and say, `Hi, you M'Pandala, why you tell dem white men lie about slabe cauffle comin' down to de coas'? You come along wid me, sar! No, he not want dat, for cartain." "When did he tell you this, Cupid?" I demanded.
He say dat very soon perhaps to-morrow or next day, or de day after one big cauffle of slabe most likely comin' here for be ship away from de coas'; and now dat he am goin' to die he feel sorry for dem slabe and feel glad if dem was set free." "Whew!" I whistled. "That is a bit of news well worth knowing if it can be relied upon. Do you believe that the fellow is telling the truth, Cupid?"
En Brer Coon, he sorter lick his cloze inter shape en rack off, en Brer Possum, he lay dar like he wuz dead, twel bimeby he raise up sorter keerful like, en w'en he fine de coas' cle'r he scramble up en scamper off like sumpin' was atter 'im."
Among another people, reared under wiser care and with better companions, how different might he not have been! How can we speak of him as a law-breaker who might have saved him from that name?" Here the speaker turned to Jean Thompson, and changed his speech to English. "A lady sez to me to-day: 'Père Jerome, 'ow dat is a dreadfool dat 'e gone at de coas' of Cuba to be one corsair!
Dab felt his respect for city boys increasing rapidly, and Dick remarked, "Ef he don't know dis coas' mos' as well as I know de bay!" It looked like it, and he also seemed to be on terms of easy acquaintance with some of the human "fish" they fell in with.
Come, gal, pick um up an' put um down; thar's no time ter be los'. Gwine ter take yer cross de country here, an' put yer on er frate train, an' dat train gwine take yer to Norfolk, for yo' sholy ain't safe on dat coas' line road. Dis is what we call throwin' de houn's off de scent. Pure Nigger cunnin', here me? Git up, Nell."
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