Stories with a Vengeance — page 97: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SOMZ AUTHENTICATED GHOST STORIES. — eee she) when Mr. Bordmann owned this sugar estate, that was indeed the happy generation in which we negroes enjoyed ourselves—slaves though we were called. Plenty of good things to eat, especially we girls of the household; mountain mullet, ring-tail pigeons, black crabs, pepper-pot, and all such delicacies left from the “ great house ” table; sangaree, rum-punch, tama- rind-water, lemonade always on sideboards in the verandah for a sip or a “ long drink,” thirsty or not; good clothes and finery upon our backs, and last, though not least, bushas (overseers) and book-keepers to flirt with. Well, in those prosperous days, Mr. Bordmann, his wife, and Miss Bella, their daughter, lived on the estate, and in this very house. Old master, as we used to call him, was one of the very best of the many good slave-owners on the island. The driver’s whip for the backs of his - negroes was a thing unknown; bilboes and black holes were punishments unheard of. There was plenty of work, of course, espe- cially in crop time; but it was done with merriment and song, and from conch-shell blowing at night to “knock off” until ' conch-shell blowing in the morning to ' “turn to,” there were the clean, cozy huts ' to go into for rest and comfort. . ' As for master selling a slave toa brother : planter, he would just as soon have sold ' one to a certain person whose name I won’t mention, for the good gentleman looked upon us all as entrusted to him by Provi- dence. doubloons, and never needed money, which - need has often been the inevitable cause of ' a good master parting with a good slave. | Mistress Bordmann was her husband’s very counterpart in kindliness, and as for Miss Bella, why she and many a little negro girl had run about, played, and, so to say, _ heen brought up together. It did her no _ harm; it did us much good, especially my- self, who was always her maid, and at the date of my story, her nurse. _ A regular creole belle, my Bella, I can | tell you; and merchants, lawyers, island curates, doctors, officers, all sorts and con- ditions of men used to be always coming here and dangling after her; so that old master once said, “ Whata lot of young chaps, Araminta, are constantly at my | door, wanting and waiting to ring my ' Bell;”? but as no entrance into the “great i house” had a bell, and visitors when they ‘came to see us shouted “ Boy!” I never | could understand what funny old master neant. Now, there was an officer of one of the Pe Eee TTY | Google 93 West India regiments—the soldiers were not dressed like Jewhalves (the worthy Araminta Diana meant to say Zouaves) then as now—used to be always riding from Kingston, Port Royal, Fort Augusta, from every barrack, indeed, where he happened to be, and could get away to Reculvers to spend his time with us. He was accustomed to excuse his comings by saying that our place was so lovely, the air so pure, nature so enticing, master and mistress’s society so charming, that he could not help running off from the heat, sand, and miseries of the lowlands when- ever he could. But he was fibbing, that Captain Clark- son was. Miss Bella was his sole attrac- tion (the nurse said “abstraction,” but let that pass), and if she had been in the worst and most fever-stricken hole in all Jamaica, he would have been there all the same. One time I oberhear ole massa say to Miss Bella somet’ing ’bout Jack Clarkson and spoons, making illusion to dat ossifer ; but afterwards I whispers to my child, “ Your fader quite wrong, missie; one fine sojer gentleman like dat can’t possible want tief (steal) spoon—nebber. I too much feel shame your fader to t’ink so.” And Miss Bella laugh ready to die; why for, I not know. ’Nodder time I see Miss Bella cut off leelie, leelie lock ob her beau- tiful hair, and gib it to de captain; and den, when I get de chance, I say, “ Yes, sar; de ’air is berry pure. I washes and curls it ebery morning wid my own hands. De Besides this, he had plenty of| face, not de place, is berry lovely. I hab known it from baby almost; and de society is *ticing, I grants. Oh, I can see, sar, into rocky-stone wall as far as any odder quad- roon gal.” And den he, too, laff, and gib me one dollar. Law! me garra! he was, if you b’lieve me, sar, handsome buccra, dat Jack Clark- son, *Squire. Tall and big, like Blue Mountain Peak ; eyes black as skin of ripe star-apple; whisker yellow and stiff as stalk of bamboo bush; lips red, like cherrymoya berry; teet so much white as pulp of kenip fruit; breat (breath)—Miss Bella say, smell like Jamaikee jasmine; but once, when he gib me sly kiss, and say, ‘“Araminta, you beauty, pass dat on to mussie,”’ I perceibe to smell more of Jamaikee rum mixed wid Habanna seegar. As for him palaver—him tongue run nineteen to de dozen, and smoode, like de water ob de Rio Cobre in de dry wedder. Well, after some time of gallivanting and love-making, things came to a crisis. The captain proposed, young missis CY, JOO S CO)