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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Ho!" remarked Sambo, and the grin with which the remark was accompanied seemed to imply that he not only appreciated his master's sentiment, but agreed with it entirely. "You've got eleven men, I trust, Sambo?" "Yes, mass'r." "All good and true, I hope? men who can be trusted both in regard to their fighting qualities, and their ability to hold their tongues?"
Who was he?" "De coachman, mass'r, he war." "Oh! I remember. You think he is drowned, also?" "I'se afeerd so, mass'r. Ole Zip sorry, too, for Pierre. A good nigger war daat Pierre. But, Mass'r Toney, Mass'r Toney, ebberybody sorry for Mass'r Toney." "He was a favourite among you?" "Ebberybody like 'im black folks, white folks, all lub 'im. Missa 'Genie lub 'im.
I's done beat wid dis yer pony, anyhow, Mass'r Raleigh. Seems, ef he was a 'sect to fly in de face of all creation an' pay no 'tention to his centre o' gravity, he might walk up dis yer hill!" Mr. Raleigh left Marguerite a moment, to relieve Capua's perplexity.
He threw off his clothes, and prepared to swim after his friend, in order to render the assistance of his stout arm when it should be needed. "Here, Jakolu!" he cried to one of the natives who stood near him. "Yes, mass'r," answered the sturdy young fellow, who has been introduced at an earlier part of this story as being one of the missionary's best behaved and most active church members.
Having delivered this address to his followers, who by their "Ho's" and grins indicated their perfect readiness to do as they were bid, Ole Thorwald left them in ambush, and groped his way down to the beach, accompanied by Sambo. "Did you bring the chain and padlock, Sambo?" "Yis, mass'r. But you no tink it am berer to take boat away pull him out ob sight?"
"Yes, missy," she said, "Cap'n Lane am a fren' ter be proud ob. I tinks he mus' be like Mass'r Linkum hisself, fer dere nebber was a man more braver and more kinder. Now I'se gwine ter tell yer what happen all that drefful night, an' Zeb will put in his word 'bout what he knows. While de cap'n was a-speakin' to de young ladies, de missus jes' lay in my arms as ef she was dead.
A stronger motive impelled me. The dream-face still haunted me those features of strange type its strangely-beautiful expression, not Caucasian, not Indian, not Asiatic. Was it possible probable "Could you describe her, Scipio?" I repeated. "'Scribe her, mass'r; daat what you mean? ye yes."
"Me watch Mass'r Richard! Now, Miss Phill, I'se none ob dat kind! But I kaint shut my eyes, 'specially when I'se 'tending to de flower vases." "You could have left the vases just at that time." "No, Miss Phill, I'se very partic'lar 'bout de vases. Dey has to be 'tended to. You done told me ober and ober to hab a time for ebery thing, and de time for de vases was jist den."
Mass'r Marigny want buy 'Rore, an Mass'r Crozat, and de American Colonel on de oder side ob ribber dey all bid two thousand dollar ole mass'r he only larf at um, and say he won't sell de gal for no money." "This was in old master's time?" "Ye ye but one bid since one boss ob ribber-boat he say he want 'Rore for de lady cabin. He talk rough to her. Missa she angry tell 'im go.
What sort of hair, for instance? What colour is it?" "Brack, mass'r; brack as a boot." "Is it straight hair?" "No, mass'r ob course not Aurore am a quaderoom." "It curls?" "Well, not dzactly like this hyar;" here Scipio pointed to his own kinky head-covering; "but for all daat, mass'r, it curls what folks call de wave." "I understand; it falls down to her shoulders?"
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