The crew began to run and move up into close quarters. The
issue was an important one, and rested between South Carolina and
the little "nigger." Dusenberry attempted to descend into the cabin.
"Vat you vant wid my John, my Baptiste? No, you no do dat, 'z my
cabin; never allow stranger go down 'im," said the captain, placing
himself in the companionway, while the little terrified nigger
peeped above the combing, and rolled his large eyes, the white
glowing in contrast, from behind the captain's legs. In this
tempting position the little darkie, knowing he was protected by the
captain and crew, would taunt the representative of the State with
his bad French. Dunn stood some distance behind Dusenberry, upon the
deck, and the mission seemed to be such a mystery to both captain
and crew, that their presence aroused a feeling of curiosity as well
as anxiety. Several of the sailors gathered around him, and made
antic grimaces, pointing their fingers at him and swearing, so that
Dunn began to be alarmed by the incomprehensible earnestness of
their gibberish, turned pale, and retreated several steps, to the
infinite amusement of those upon the wharf.
Vat 'e do, ah, you vant 'im? Vat you do vid 'im ven zu gets him, ah?
Cette affaire d‚licate demande," said one of the number, who was
honored with the title of mate, and who, with a terrific black
moustache and beard, had the power of contorting his face into the
most repugnant grimaces.
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