“Matrimony; a wife and no wife; a pretty face and a rich bride: do I speak plain, now, captain?”
“If you know any thing relating to my wife, say it at once; you need not fear for your reward.”
“Ay, captain, I have drove many a bargain in my time, and sometimes I have been paid in money, and sometimes I have been paid in promises; now the last are what I call pinching food.”
“Name your price.”
“Twenty—no, damn it, it’s worth thirty dollars, if it’s worth a cent!”
“Here, then, is your money: but remember, if you tell me nothing worth knowing, I have a force that can easily deprive you of it again, and punish your insolence in the bargain.”
The fellow examined the bank-bills he received, with a jealous eye, and then pocketed them, apparently well satisfied of their being genuine.
“I like a northern note,” he said very coolly; “they have a character to lose like myself.
No fear of me, captain; I am a man of honour, and I shall not tell you a word more, nor a word less than I know of my own knowledge to be true.”
“Proceed then without further delay, or I may repent, and order you to be deprived of all your gains; the silver as well as the notes.”
“Honour, if you die for it!” returned the miscreant, holding up a hand in affected horror at so treacherous a threat. “Well, captain, you must know that gentlemen don’t all live by the same calling; some keep what they’ve got, and some get what they can.”
“You have been a thief.”
“I scorn the word.
I have been a humanity hunter.
Do you know what that means?
Ay, it has many interpretations.
Some people think the woolly-heads are miserable, working on hot plantations under a broiling sun—and all such sorts of inconveniences.
Well, captain, I have been, in my time, a man who has been willing to give them the pleasures of variety, at least, by changing the scene for them.
You understand me?”
“You are, in plain language, a kidnapper.”
“Have been, my worthy captain—have been; but just now a little reduced, like a merchant who leaves off selling tobacco by the hogshead, to deal in it by the yard.
I have been a soldier, too, in my day.
What is said to be the great secret of our trade, can you tell me that?”
“I know not,” said Middleton, beginning to tire of the fellow’s trifling: “courage?”
“No, legs—legs to fight with, and legs to run away with—and therein you see my two callings agreed.
My legs are none of the best just now, and without legs a kidnapper would carry on a losing trade; but then there are men enough left, better provided than I am.”
“Stolen!” groaned the horror-struck husband.
“On her travels, as sure as you are standing still!”
“Villain, what reason have you for believing a thing so shocking?”
“Hands off—hands off—do you think my tongue can do its work the better, for a little squeezing of the throat!
Have patience, and you shall know it all; but if you treat me so ungenteelly again, I shall be obliged to call in the assistance of the lawyers.”
“Say on; but if you utter a single word more or less than the truth, expect instant vengeance!”
“Are you fool enough to believe what such a scoundrel as I am tells you, captain, unless it has probability to back it?
I know you are not: therefore I will give my facts and my opinions, and then leave you to chew on them, while I go and drink of your generosity.
I know a man who is called Abiram White.—I believe the knave took that name to show his enmity to the race of blacks! But this gentleman is now, and has been for years, to my certain knowledge, a regular translator of the human body from one State to another.
I have dealt with him in my time, and a cheating dog he is!
No more honour in him than meat in my stomach.
I saw him here in this very town, the day of your wedding.
He was in company with his wife’s brother, and pretended to be a settler on the hunt for new land.
A noble set they were, to carry on business—seven sons, each of them as tall as your sergeant with his cap on.
Well, the moment I heard that your wife was lost, I saw at once that Abiram had laid his hands on her.”
“Do you know this—can this be true?
What reason have you to fancy a thing so wild?”
“Reason enough; I know Abiram White.
Now, will you add a trifle just to keep my throat from parching?”
“Go, go; you are stupified with drink already, miserable man, and know not what you say.
Go; go, and beware the drummer.”
“Experience is a good guide”—the fellow called after the retiring Middleton; and then turning with a chuckling laugh, like one well satisfied with himself, he made the best of his way towards the shop of the suttler.
A hundred times in the course of that night did Middleton fancy that the communication of the miscreant was entitled to some attention, and as often did he reject the idea as too wild and visionary for another thought.
He was awakened early on the following morning, after passing a restless and nearly sleepless night, by his orderly, who came to report that a man was found dead on the parade, at no great distance from his quarters.