The Red Eric by R. M. Ballantyne (world of reading txt) 📖

pipe, and was now in the full enjoyment of it; “let’s see the feller, an’ I’ll strike a bargain with him, if he seems a likely chap.”

“You will have strike de bargin vid me,” said the dealer. “I vill charge you ver’ leetle, suppose you take full cargo.”

The whole party, who were ignorant of the man’s profession, started at this remark, and looked at the dealer in surprise.

“Wot!” exclaimed Tim Rokens, withdrawing his pipe from his lips; “do you sell niggers?”

“Yees, to be surely,” replied the man, with a peculiarly saturnine smile.

“A slave-dealer?” exclaimed Briant, clenching his fists.

“Even so, sare.”

At this Briant uttered a shout, and throwing forward his clenched fists in a defiant attitude, exclaimed between his set teeth—

“Arrah! come on!”

Most men have peculiarities. Phil Briant had many; but his most striking peculiarity, and that which led him frequently into extremely awkward positions, was a firm belief that his special calling—in an amateur point of view—was the redressing of wrongs—not wrongs of a particular class, or wrongs of an excessively glaring and offensive nature, but all wrongs whatsoever. It mattered not to Phil whether the wrong had to be righted by force of argument or force of arms. He considered himself an accomplished practitioner in both lines of business—and in regard to the latter his estimate of his powers was not very much too high, for he was a broad-shouldered, deep-chested, long-armed fellow, and had acquired a scientific knowledge of boxing under a celebrated bruiser at the expense of a few hard-earned shillings, an occasional bottle of poteen, and many a severe thrashing.

Justice to Phil’s amiability of character requires, however, that we should state that he never sought to terminate an argument with his fists unless he was invited to do so, and even then he invariably gave his rash challenger fair warning, and offered to let him retreat if so disposed. But when injustice met his eye, or when he happened to see cruelty practised by the strong against the weak, his blood fired at once, and he only deigned the short emphatic remark— “Come on,” sometimes preceded by “Arrah!” sometimes not. Generally speaking, he accepted his own challenge, and went on forthwith.

Of all the iniquities that draw forth the groans of humanity on this sad earth, slavery, in the opinion of Phil Briant, was the worst. He had never come in contact with it, not having been in the Southern States of America. He knew from hearsay that the coast of Africa was its fountain, but he had forgotten the fact, and in the novelty of the scene before him, it did not at first occur to him that he was actually face to face with a “live slave-dealer.”

“Let me go!” roared the Irishman, as he struggled in the iron grip of Tim Rokens; and the not less powerful grasp of Glynn Proctor. “Och! let me go! Doo, darlints. I’ll only give him wan—jist wan! Let me go, will ye?”

“Not if I can help it,” said Glynn, tightening his grasp.

“Wot a cross helephant it is,” muttered Rokens, as he thrust his hand into his comrade’s neckcloth and quietly began to choke him as he dragged him away towards the residence of the trader, who was an amused as well as surprised spectator of this unexpected ebullition of passion.

At length Phil Briant allowed himself to be forced away from the beach where the slave-dealer stood with his arms crossed on his breast, and a sarcastic smile playing on his thin lips. Had that Portuguese trafficker in human flesh known how quickly Briant could have doubled the size of his long nose and shut up both his eyes, he would probably have modified the expression of his countenance; but he didn’t know it, so he looked after the party until they had entered the dwelling of the trader, and then sauntered up towards the woods, which in this place came down to within a few yards of the beach.

The settlement was a mere collection of rudely-constructed native huts, built of bamboos and roofed with a thatch of palm-leaves. In the midst of it stood a pretty white-painted cottage with green-edged windows and doors, and a verandah in front. This was the dwelling of the trader; and alongside of it, under the same roof, was the store, in which were kept the guns, beads, powder and shot, etcetera, etcetera, which he exchanged with the natives of the interior for elephants’ tusks and bar-wood, from which latter a beautiful dye is obtained; also ebony, indiarubber, and other products of the country.

Here the trader entertained Tim Rokens and Phil Briant with stories of the slave-trade; and here we shall leave them while we follow Glynn and Ailie, who went off together to ramble along the shore of the calm sea.

They had not gone far when specimens of the strange creatures that dwell in these lands presented themselves to their astonished gaze. There were birds innumerable on the shore, on the surface of the ocean, and in the woods. The air was alive with them; many being similar to the birds they had been familiar with from infancy, while others were new and strange.

To her immense delight Ailie saw many living specimens of the bird-of-paradise, the graceful plumes of which she had frequently beheld on very high and important festal occasions, nodding on the heads of Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane. But the prettiest of all the birds she saw there was a small creature with a breast so red and bright, that it seemed, as it flew about, like a little ball of fire. There were many of them flying about near a steep bank, in holes of which they built their nests. She observed that they fed upon flies which they caught while skimming through the air, and afterwards learned that they were called bee-eaters.

“Oh! look!” exclaimed Ailie in that tone of voice which indicated that a surprising discovery had been made. Ailie was impulsive, and the tones in which she exclaimed “Oh!” were so varied, emphatic, and distinct, that those who knew her well could tell exactly the state of her mind on hearing the exclamation. At present, her “Oh!” indicated surprise mingled with alarm.

“Eh! what, where?” cried Glynn, throwing forward his musket—for he had taken the precaution to carry one with him, not knowing what he might meet with on such a coast.

“The snake! look—oh!”

At that moment a huge black snake, about ten feet long, showed itself in the grass. Glynn took aim at once, but the piece, being an old flint-lock, missed fire. Before he could again take aim the loathsome-looking reptile had glided into the underwood, which in most places was so overgrown with the rank and gigantic vegetation of the tropics as to be quite impenetrable.

“Ha! he’s gone, Ailie!” cried Glynn, in a tone of disappointment, as he put fresh priming into the pan of his piece. “We must be careful in walking here, it seems. This wretched old musket! Lucky for us that our lives did not depend on it. I wonder if it was a poisonous serpent?”

“Perhaps it was,” said Ailie, with a look of deep solemnity, as she took her companion’s left hand, and trotted along by his side. “Are not all serpents poisonous?”

“Oh dear, no. Why, there are some kinds that are quite harmless. But as I don’t know which are and which are not, we must look upon all as enemies until we become more knowing.”

Presently they came to the mouth of a river—one of those sluggish streams on the African coast, which suggest the idea of malaria and the whole family of low fevers. It glided through a mangrove swamp, where the tree seemed to be standing on their roots, which served the purpose of stilts to keep them out of the mud. The river was oily, and sluggish, and hot-looking, and its mud-banks were slimy and liquid, so that it was not easy to say whether the water of the river was mud, or the mud on the bank was water. It was a place that made one involuntarily think of creeping monsters, and crawling objects, and slimy things!

“Look! oh! oh! such a darling pet!” exclaimed Ailie, as they stood near the banks of this river wondering what monster would first cleave the muddy waters, and raise its hideous head. She pointed to the bough of a dead tree near which they stood, and on which sat the “darling pet” referred to. It was a very small monkey with white whiskers; a dumpy little thing, that looked at them with an expression of surprise quite equal in intensity to their own.

Seeing that it was discovered, the “darling pet” opened its little mouth, and uttered a succession of “Ohs!” that rendered Ailie’s exclamations quite insignificant by comparison. They were sharp and short, and rapidly uttered, while, at the same time, two rows of most formidable teeth were bared, along with the gums that held them.

At this Ailie and her companion burst into a fit of irrepressible laughter, whereupon the “darling pet” put itself into such a passion—grinned, and coughed, and gasped, and shook the tree, and writhed, and glared, to such an extent that Glynn said he thought it would burst, and Ailie agreed that it was very likely. Finding that this terrible display of fury had no effect on the strangers, the “darling pet” gave utterance to a farewell shriek of passion, and, bounding nimbly into the woods, disappeared.

“Oh, what a funny beast,” said Ailie, sitting down on a stone, and drying her eyes, which had filled with tears from excessive laughter.

“Indeed it was,” said Glynn. “It’s my opinion that a monkey is the funniest beast in the world.”

“No, Glynn; a kitten’s funnier,” said Ailie, with a degree of emphasis that showed she had considered the subject well, and had fully made up her mind in regard to it long ago. “I think a kitten’s the very funniest beast in all the whole world.”

“Well, perhaps it is,” said Glynn thoughtfully.

“Did you ever see three kittens together?” asked Ailie.

“No; I don’t think I ever did. I doubt if I have seen even two together. Why?”

“Oh! because they are so very, very funny. Sit down beside me, and I’ll tell you about three kittens I once had. They were very little—at least they were little before they got big.”

Glynn laughed.

“Oh, you know what I mean. They were able to play when they were very little, you know.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. Go on.”

“Well, two were grey, and one was white and grey, but most of it was white; and when they went to play, one always hid itself to watch, and then the other two began, and came up to each other with little jumps, and their backs up and tails curved, and hair all on end, glaring at each other, and pretending that they were so angry. Do you know, Glynn, I really believe they sometimes forgot it was pretence, and actually became angry. But the fun was, that, when the two were just going to fly at each other, the third one, who had been watching, used to dart out and give them such a fright—a real fright, you know—which made them jump, oh! three times their own height up into the air, and they came down again with a fuff that put the third one in a fright too; so that they all scattered away from each other as if they had gone quite mad. What’s that?”

“It’s a fish, I think,” said Glynn, rising and going towards the river, to look at the object that had attracted his companion’s attention. “It’s a shark, I do believe.”

In a few seconds the creature came so close that they could see it quite distinctly; and on a more careful inspection, they observed that the mouth of the river was full of these ravenous monsters. Soon after they saw monsters of a still more ferocious aspect; for while they were watching the sharks,