The Perils and Adventures of Harry Skipwith by Land and Sea. Kingston William Henry Giles

are not the first people who have wished for the return of day, my boy,” said I. “But hark – ”

      There was a slight sound as of an oar dipped in the water. It approached the island. It ceased, and I felt sure that the person or persons in the boat had landed. I listened. I could hear the sound of a canoe or boat being hauled up, and soon a light bursting forth showed me that a fire had been kindled, for the purpose probably of cooking. The alligator heard the sounds also, I suspect; for finding that we were not likely to come down to satisfy his appetite, he wheeled round and began to crawl back to the other spot whence the sounds proceeded. I suspected that he had not seen the fire, which, from our higher position we had observed, and I knew that he was not likely to approach it. I should otherwise have shouted out to warn whoever might be there of the approach of the monster. As soon as the brute had moved off, Peter, Ready, and I jumped down to the ground and advanced towards the spot where we had seen the fire. It had now burnt up brightly, and between us and it I observed the huge form of the alligator crawling on. He must have suddenly become aware of the fire, for I saw him, much to my satisfaction, scramble off as fast as he could on one side, and the sound of a heavy plunge assured me that he had once more taken to the water. Peter and Ready followed at my heels. I slowly advanced, and in a short time I saw a man sitting down on his hams before the fire, at which he was cooking a fish. He was a negro, a big athletic-looking fellow, with a bare woolly head, and naked to the waist, round which he wore a belt, and in it were stuck a brace of pistols and a long bowie-knife. The noise of the river rushing by and the crackling of the burning sticks had prevented him from hearing our approach. He turned his head – the glance of the fire fell on us. In a moment he was on his feet, and, drawing a pistol from his belt, he levelled it at my head.

      “I am a friend,” I shouted out as rapidly as I could, but the black had not time to change the impulse given to his finger. There was a flash, a report, and a sharp stinging sensation in my neck told me that the bullet had taken effect. To save my life I sprang forward, and throwing myself with all my might on the stranger, I grasped his arm as he was drawing a second pistol, and bearing him down we both rolled over together to the ground and very nearly into the water. He was as strong as I was, and being naked I had great difficulty in holding his arms and preventing him from drawing his knife, which he made strenuous efforts to do, while at the same time he was evidently endeavouring to roll off the bank into the river, and to drag me with him. I could not help thinking of my friend, the cayman, who would probably have most largely benefited by the success of his attempt. When people go to fisty-cuffs, there are seldom wanting alligators to profit by their quarrels. Had I been alone, strong and active as I was, I scarcely know what would have been the result; but I had two trusty friends at hand. We had not been struggling many moments, when Ready, having laid his plans for the campaign, flew at the negro’s legs, one of which he gripped so firmly that the poor fellow roared out with pain; while Peter, after hesitating an instant, caught him by his woolly head and tugged away manfully in an opposite direction. In our struggles we all rolled into the fire – black, boy, dog, and I; and had not our clothes been still somewhat damp, we should have been quickly in flames, and, had the alligator come back, all ready cooked for his supper. As it was, we kicked about the burning ashes, tossing them into the air, when they came down in showers upon us, till, what with the singeing he was undergoing, the biting of the dog, and the pulling of his hair, the negro cried out lustily for mercy.

      “Well, I have no wish to hurt you,” said I, still holding down his arms. “Don’t attempt again to shoot me, and I will very gladly be your friend. Off, Ready! let go dog! Don’t pull the man’s hair any more, boy.”

      Peter and the dog obeyed me, and the man, getting up and shaking himself, began to scrape the ashes together, and then, looking for his fish, stuck it on a stick to roast as if nothing particular had occurred.

      “You are a cool hand, my friend,” said I, sitting down opposite to him. “You might have killed me just now.”

      “Of course; I took you for an enemy,” he answered.

      “What enemies have you to fear?” I asked.

      “Slave-hunters,” he answered, grinding his teeth and uttering a fearful oath.

      “But how do you know that we are not searching for a runaway slave?” I asked.

      “Because you are an Englishman,” he replied.

      “Why do you fancy that?” said I.

      “From the way you spoke to your boy and dog,” he observed with a fierce laugh. “There would have been a kick and a curse had you belonged to this country; but, though you gripped me hard, and well-nigh squeezed the breath out of me, I know you to be a man, and I trust you.”

      “I am obliged to you for your confidence, and I will not betray it; though, as it may be better, I will ask no questions.”

      “That’s wise; but I must ask you one,” said the negro. “How came you here?”

      I told him. He was silent for some time, turning his fish on the spit, while my companions, imitating my example, seated themselves beside me. Peter sat gaping with mute astonishment, Ready’s lips and eye showed that he still looked on the big negro rather as an enemy than a friend. The excitement had hitherto prevented me from feeling the wound in my neck. The pain and a sensation of blood flowing down my shoulder reminded me of it, and I was about to call Peter to my aid, when the negro looked up and said —

      “Stranger, you believe that all men have sprung from the same parents?”

      “Certainly, my friend,” I replied. “I have not the slightest doubt about the matter.”

      “Then, do you think that one portion has the right to keep another in bondage, to spit upon them, to beat and abuse them, and to treat them as brute beasts without souls?”

      He ground his teeth as he continued speaking. I saw that he was working himself up into a fury, so I interrupted him:

      “Assuredly not, my friend,” I said. “No man has a right to keep another in slavery; but slavery is a fact, and facts are stubborn things, not to be got rid of.”

      “I don’t quite understand you, stranger,” he replied. “But, from what you say, I believe that you would help a slave to escape from his bonds, if you had the opportunity?”

      This was a most disagreeable question. I had resolved, when I entered the slave states, not to interfere in the slightest way with the subject of slavery, and now I was asked to commit the most atrocious crime against the white community of which I could possibly be guilty.

      “Do you ask me to help you?” said I.

      “I do,” was the answer.

      “What claim have you on me?” I demanded.

      “That of one man on another,” said the negro, rising unconsciously, and stretching out his hand over the fire. “That of one immortal soul on its fellow, who must both stand, some day, before the judgment-seat of Heaven, to be judged of the deeds done in the flesh. If you have the feelings of a true man, the conscience of a living soul, you dare not refuse my appeal.”

      “I will not,” I exclaimed, rising also and taking the negro’s hand. “I will aid you at every risk, to the best of my power.”

      “Stranger,” said the black, wringing my hand, while his voice trembled with emotion, “your words may prevent me from doing many a fierce deed, which I otherwise should have committed; from turning my hand against every man’s; from believing that every man with a white skin is a demon in human shape.”

      He came round to me, and sat himself down by my side.

      “But you are hurt,” he observed, in a tone of concern, “and I, in my fear, did it. You have a handkerchief. It is only a flesh wound; I will bind it up. I wish I could do more.”

      Ready growled when he saw my late antagonist touching me, but proceeded no further in his hostilities. Peter brought some water in a pannikin, which the negro had with him, and my wound, being bathed freely, was bound up: and we sat down to discuss the fish, and another brought from the canoe, of which the negro insisted that we should partake, Ready coming in for the heads and bones.