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Updated: May 19, 2025
"An' so you expec's they're goin' to make you a king for all that?" "Yis, dat is fat me 'xpec's, for our old king be just dead; but dey nebber tell who dey going to make king till dey do it. I not more sure ob it dan the nigger dat walk dare before you." Neepeelootambo pointed as he spoke to a negro who certainly had a more kingly aspect than any native they had yet seen.
"Wot's he bin doin'?" inquired Rokens, turning to his black companion. But Rokens received no answer, for Neepeelootambo was looking on at the scene with an expression so utterly woe-begone and miserable that one would imagine he was himself suffering the rough usage he witnessed. "Arrah! ye don't appear to be chairful," said Briant, laughing, as he looked in the negro's face.
The trader opened a door which led to the back part of his premises, and shouted to a stout negro who was sawing wood there, and who came forward with alacrity. "Ho! Neepeelootambo, go take these gentlemen round about the village, and let them see all that is to be seen." "Yes, massa." "And they've got something to say to you about going to sea would you like to go?"
Neepeelootambo nodded his head so violently that it was a marvel it remained on his shoulders. "Yis. Ho! ho! ho! 'xpec's to be a king." "And when are ye to be crowned, Bumble?" inquired Briant, rather sceptically, as they resumed their walk. "Oh, me no say me goin' to be king; me only 'xpec's dat." "Werry good," returned Rokens; "but wot makes ye for to expect it?" "Aha!
Bumble, you'll be the death o' me," cried Briant. "An' are they a-crownin' of him now?" "Yis, massa. Dat what dey go for to do jist now." "Troth, then, I'll go an' inspict the coronation. Come along, Bumble, me darlint, and show us the way." In a few minutes Neepeelootambo conducted his new friends into a large rudely-constructed hut, which was open on three sides and thatched with palm-leaves.
Poor Neepeelootambo uttered the last words in such a deeply touching tone, and seemed to be so much cast down at the thought that his chance of being "kicked and spitted upon" had passed away for ever, that Phil Briant burst into a hearty fit of laughter, and Tim Rokens exhibited symptoms of internal risibility, though his outward physiognomy remained unchanged. "Och!
Neepeelootambo, who was almost naked, having only a small piece of cloth wrapped round his waist and loins, grinned again, displaying a double row of teeth worthy of a shark in so doing, and led his new friends from the house. "Now," said Tim Rokens, turning to the negro, and pointing along the shore, "we'll go along this way and jaw the matter over.
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