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master can answer."
"Ah yes, these gales," said Captain Delano; "but the more I think of your voyage, Don
Benito, the more I wonder, not at the gales, terrible as they must have been, but at the
disastrous interval following them. For here, by your account, have you been these two
months and more getting from Cape Horn to St. Maria, a distance which I myself, with a
good wind, have sailed in a few days. True, you had calms, and long ones, but to be
becalmed for two months, that is, at least, unusual. Why, Don Benito, had almost any other
gentleman told me such a story, I should have been half disposed to a little incredulity."
Here an involuntary expression came over the Spaniard, similar to that just before on the
deck, and whether it was the start he gave, or a sudden gawky roll of the hull in the calm,
or a momentary unsteadiness of the servant's hand; however it was, just then the razor drew
blood, spots of which stained the creamy lather under the throat; immediately the black
barber drew back his steel, and remaining in his professional attitude, back to Captain
Delano, and face to Don Benito, held up the trickling razor, saying, with a sort of half
humorous sorrow, "See, master,- you shook so- here's Babo's first blood."
No sword drawn before James the First of England, no assassination in that timid King's
presence, could have produced a more terrified aspect than was now presented by Don
Benito.
Poor fellow, thought Captain Delano, so nervous he can't even bear the sight of barber's
blood; and this unstrung, sick man, is it credible that I should have imagined he meant to
spill all my blood, who can't endure the sight of one little drop of his own? Surely, Amasa
Delano, you have been beside yourself this day. Tell it not when you get home, sappy
Amasa. Well, well, he looks like a murderer, doesn't he? More like as if himself were to be
done for. Well, well, this day's experience shall be a good lesson.
Meantime, while these things were running through the honest seaman's mind, the servant
had taken the napkin from his arm, and to Don Benito had said: "But answer Don Amasa,
please, master, while I wipe this ugly stuff off the razor, and strop it again."
As he said the words, his face was turned half round, so as to be alike visible to the
Spaniard and the American, and seemed by its expression to hint, that he was desirous, by
getting his master to go on with the conversation, considerately to withdraw his attention
from the recent annoying accident. As if glad to snatch the offered relief, Don Benito
resumed, rehearsing to Captain Delano, that not only were the calms of unusual duration,
but the ship had fallen in with obstinate currents and other things he added, some of which
were but repetitions of former statements, to explain how it came to pass that the passage
from Cape Horn to St. Maria had been so exceedingly long, now and then mingling with
his words, incidental praises, less qualified than before, to the blacks, for their general good
conduct.
These particulars were not given consecutively, the servant now and then using his razor,
and so, between the intervals of shaving, the story and panegyric went on with more than
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usual huskiness.
To Captain Delano's imagination, now again not wholly at rest, there was something so
hollow in the Spaniard's manner, with apparently some reciprocal hollowness in the
servant's dusky comment of silence, that the idea flashed across him, that possibly master
and man, for some unknown purpose, were acting out, both in word and deed, nay, to the
very tremor of Don Benito's limbs, some juggling play before him. Neither did the
suspicion of collusion lack apparent support, from the fact of those whispered conferences
before mentioned. But then, what could be the object of enacting this play of the barber
before him? At last, regarding the notion as a whimsy, insensibly suggested, perhaps, by
the theatrical aspect of Don Benito in his harlequin ensign, Captain Delano speedily
banished it.
The shaving over, the servant bestirred himself with a small bottle of scented waters,
pouring a few drops on the head, and then diligently rubbing; the vehemence of the
exercise causing the muscles of his face to twitch rather strangely.
His next operation was with comb, scissors and brush; going round and round, smoothing a
curl here, clipping an unruly whisker-hair there, giving a graceful sweep to the temple-lock,
with other impromptu touches evincing the hand of a master; while, like any resigned
gentleman in barber's hands, Don Benito bore all, much less uneasily, at least, than he had
done the razoring; indeed, he sat so pale and rigid now, that the Negro seemed a Nubian
sculptor finishing off a white statue-head.
All being over at last, the standard of Spain removed, tumbled up, and tossed back into the
flag-locker, the Negro's warm breath blowing away any stray hair which might have lodged
down his master's neck; collar and cravat readjusted; a speck of lint whisked off the velvet
lapel; all this being done; backing off a little space, and pausing with an expression of
subdued self-complacency, the servant for a moment surveyed his master, as, in toilet at
least, the creature of his own tasteful hands.
Captain Delano playfully complimented him upon his achievement; at the same time
congratulating Don Benito.
But neither sweet waters, nor shampooing, nor fidelity, nor sociality, delighted the
Spaniard. Seeing him relapsing into forbidding gloom, and still remaining seated, Captain
Delano, thinking that his presence was undesired just then, withdrew, on pretence of seeing
whether, as he had prophesied, any signs of a breeze were visible.
Walking forward to the mainmast, he stood awhile thinking over the scene, and not without
some undefined misgivings, when he heard a noise near the cuddy, and turning, saw the
Negro, his hand to his cheek. Advancing, Captain Delano perceived that the cheek was
bleeding. He was about to ask the cause, when the Negro's wailing soliloquy enlightened
him.
"Ah, when will master get better from his sickness; only the sour heart that sour sickness
breeds made him serve Babo so; cutting Babo with the razor, because, only by accident,
Babo had given master one little scratch; and for the first time in so many a day, too. Ah,
ah, ah," holding his hand to his face.
Is it possible, thought Captain Delano; was it to wreak in private his Spanish spite against
this poor friend of his, that Don Benito, by his sullen manner, impelled me to withdraw?
Ah, this slavery breeds ugly passions in man! Poor fellow!
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He was about to speak in sympathy to the Negro, but with a timid reluctance he now
re-entered the cuddy.
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