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"Smugglers, or no," said Fyall, "you are right for once, my peony rose, I do believe."
Ill as I was, however, I could perceive that all this row had now more of a tipsy frolic in it whatever it might have had at first than absolute fear; for the red faced visitor, and Mr Fyall, as if half ashamed, speedily extricated themselves from the chaos of chairs and living creatures, righted the table, replaced the candles, and having sat down, looking as grave as judges on the bench, Aaron Bang exclaimed "I'll bet a dozen, it is the poor fellow himself returned on our hands, half dead from the rascally treatment he has met with at the hands of these smuggling thieves!"
I took Mary's hand I could not raise it for lack of strength, or I would have kissed it; but, as she leant over me, Fyall came behind her and gently pressed her sweet lips to mine, while the dear girl blushed as red as Aaron Bang's face.
One of the party was a little red faced gentleman, Peregrine Whiffle, Esquire, by name who, in Jamaica parlance, was designated an extraordinary master in Chancery; the overseer of the pen, or breeding farm, in the great house as it is called, or mansionhouse of which Mr Fyall resided, and a merry, laughing, intelligent, round, red faced man, with a sort of Duncan Knockdunder nose, through the wide nostrils of which you could see a cable's length into his head; he was either Fyall's head clerk, or a sort of first lieutenant; these personages and myself composed the party.
Mr Fyall smiled, and I put up my hand it was all I could do, for my limbs appeared loaded with lead at the extremities, and when I touched any part of my frame, with my hand for instance, there was no concurring sensation conveyed by the nerves of the two parts; sometimes I felt as if touched by the hand of another; at others, as if I had touched the person of some one else.
"Can't, Whiffle, can't, for the soul of me, Peregrine, my dear but I see, I see." With that the gallant captain got down on all fours; Whiffle, a small light man, got on his back, and, with the aid of Bang and Fyall, managed to scramble up on my shoulders, where he stood, holding by the window sill above, with a foot on each side of my head.
My wig! thought I, a precious country, where a man's life may be periled by the fashion of the covering to his nakedness! Next day, Mr Fyall, who, I afterwards learned, was a most estimable man in substantials, although somewhat eccentric in small matters, called and invited me to accompany him on a cruise amongst some of the estates under his management.
Mr Fyall and I sat down, and then in walked four mutes, stout young fellows, not over well dressed, and with faces burnt to the colour of brick dust. They were the bookkeepers, so called because they never see a book, their province being to attend the negroes in the field, and to superintend the manufacture of sugar and rum in the boiling and distilling houses.
He may be a good crim criminal judge, but no judge of wine Why don't you laugh, Tom, eh? and then his saw the rasp of a saw I hate wish it, and a whole nest more, had been in his legal stomach full of old saws Shakespeare he, he why don't you laugh, Tom? Poisoned by the judge, by Jupiter Now, here we are fairly abreast of them Hillo! Fyall, what are you after?"
The Yankee was specially plied by Fyall, evidently with an object, and he soon succeeded in making him helplessly drunk.
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