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Updated: June 15, 2025
For the Dean, a man of vivid intelligence, knew enough of the Moresco persecutions to be able to gather from the words of Lucas and Ambrose, and the confession of the old man himself, a far more correct estimate of Abenali's sufferings, and constancy to the truth, than any of the more homebred wits could have divined.
"I am Pietro Moresco," he boasted, many times, as if the very name should awe the world. Then, impressively: "I am no common emigrant. Not a common emigrant, as all may learn, in time. In New York none are too proud to dance with me. It is not a land for the aristocrat the aristocrat who travels steerage!"
"Nay, sir, so please you, it was his good heart that made him a jester," said Ambrose, explaining the story of Randall and his Perronel in a few words, which touched the friends a good deal, and the Dean remembered that she was in charge of the little Moresco girl.
After some length of time, my patron, as I found, grew; so poor that he could not fit out his ship as usual; and then he used constantly, once or twice a week, if the weather was fair, to go out a fishing, taking me and a young Moresco Boy to row the boat; and to much pleased was he with me for my dexterity in catching the fish, that he would often send me with a Moor, who was one of his kinsemen, and the Moresco youth, to catch a dish of fish for him.
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