It was about twelve o'clock in the day. Jessuron and his daughter had
just stepped forth into the verandah, and taken their stand by the
balustrade looking down into the court. The countenance of both
betrayed a certain degree of solicitude, as if they had come out to be
witnesses to some spectacle of more than common interest.
The house-wenches and other domestics, trooping behind them with curious
looks, showed that some rare scene was to be enacted.
A small iron furnace, filled with live coals, had been placed in the
courtyard, near the bottom of the steps. Three or four sullen-looking
men--blacks and mulattoes--stood around it in lounging attitudes. One
of these stooped over the furnace, turning in the fire what appeared to
be a soldering iron, or some other instrument of a brazier.
It was not that, however, as the spectators well knew. All who beheld
it recognised the dreaded _branding iron_: for every one present, the
whites and newly-arrived Africans excepted, had, ere now, felt its hot,
seething fire in their flesh.
These last had already learnt what was preparing for them; and most of
them stood regarding the preparations with looks of silent awe.
Some Coromantees there were among the number, who looked on with
reckless indifference, chatting as gaily--and, at intervals, laughing as
loudly--as if they awaited the beginning of some merry game. Little
cared these courageous sons of Ethiopia--whose sable skins bore scars of
many a native fray--little cared they for the scorching of that simple
brand.
It was not long before the inhuman spectacle commenced. The entrance of
Jessuron and his daughter was the cue to begin; and the bearded
overseer, who was master of the ceremonies, had only been waiting till
these should make their appearance. The man, from experience, knew that
his master always gave his personal superintendence when such a scene
was to be enacted. He knew, moreover, that his master's daughter was
equally accustomed to assist at these interesting ceremonies!
"Go on, Mishter Ravener!" cried the Jew, on reaching the front of the
verandah. "Theesh first," he added, pointing towards a group of Eboes--
who stood trembling with apprehension in one corner of the yard.
At a sign from the overseer, who was one of the taciturn sort, a number
of old negroes--evidently used to the business--laid hands upon the
Eboes, and led them up to the furnace.
As the victims were brought near to the fire, and saw the red iron
glowing amid the coals, fear became strongly depicted upon their faces,
and their frames shook with a convulsive terror. Some of them, the
younger ones, screamed aloud, and would have rushed away from the spot,
had they not been held in the grasp of the attendants.
Their appeals, made by the most pitiful looks and gestures, were
answered only by unfeeling jeers and shouts of laughter, in which the
old Jew himself joined--in which, incredible to relate, joined his
beautiful daughter! Nor was it a mere smile which appeared on the face
of the fair Judith; clear laughter rang from her lips, exhibiting her
regular rows of ivory-like teeth--as if some fiend had assumed the form
of an angel!
The Eboes were led forward, and held firmly by the assistants, while
their breasts were presented to receive the brand. The red-hot iron
flashed for a moment in the eyes of each; and then fell with a dull clap
upon the clammy skin. Smoke ascended with a hiss, till the court became
filled with a smell of roasting flesh! A struggle, some wild cries, and
the operation was over. The slave was marked with those indelible
initials, to be carried with him to his grave.
One by one, the poor beings received this terrible baptism, and were led
away from the ground.
A batch of Pawpaws--from the Whidaw country--came next. They were
brought up one by one, like the Eboes; but altogether unlike these was
their behaviour. They neither gave way to extreme fear, nor yet
displayed extraordinary courage. They appeared to submit with a sort of
docile resignation: as though they regarded it in the light of a destiny
or duty.
The operation of branding them was a short work, and afforded no mirth
to the bystanders: since there was no ludicrous display of terror to
laugh at. This facile disposition renders the Whidaw the most valuable
of slaves.
A group of Coromantees were now to undergo the fiery ordeal. These bold
and warlike indigenes of Africa evinced, by their attitudes and actions,
the possession of a moral nature altogether different from that either
of Pawpaw or Eboe. Instead of waiting to be led forward, each stepped
boldly up, as he did so baring his breast to receive the red brand, at
which he glanced with an air of lordly contempt!
One young fellow even seized the iron from the grasp of the operator;
and, turning it in his hand, struck the stamp firmly against his breast,
where he held it until the seething flesh told that a deep imprint had
been made! Then, flinging the instrument back into the furnace, he
strode away from the spot with the air of a triumphant gladiator!
At this moment there occurred a pause in the proceedings--not as if the
drama was ended, but only an act. Another was yet to come.
Ravener stepped up to the verandah, in front of the place where Jessuron
and his daughter stood. With the former, or indeed with both, he
communicated in a voice just audible,--not as if with any design of
concealing what he said--but because there was no necessity for loud
talking.
The two man-hunters were the only persons there he might have had any
care to be cautious about; but these were at that moment busy with their
dogs, and not heeding aught that was going on. Branding a batch of
negroes was no new sight to them; and they were spectators, merely from
having, at the moment, nothing better to do.
"Which next?" was the question put by Ravener to the Jew; "the
Mandingoes?"
"Either them or the prinshe," replied Jessuron; "it don't matter which
ish marked first."
"Oh, the prince first, by all means!" suggested the amiable Judith, with
a smile of satisfaction. "Bring him out first, Mr Ravener; I'm curious
to see how his royal highness will stand fire."
The overseer made no reply; but, taking the wish of the young lady as a
command, proceeded to obey it.
Stepping across the court he opened a door that led into a room,
separate from that in which the slaves had been lodged.
The overseer entered the room; and in a few minutes came out again,
bringing with him an individual who, by his dress, it might have been
difficult to recognise as the young Fellatta seen on board the slaver,
but whose noble mien still rendered it possible to identify him: for it
was he.
Changed, indeed, was his costume. The turban was gone, the rich silken
tunic, the sandals and scimitar--all his finery had been stripped off;
and in its place appeared a coarse Osnaburg shirt and trousers--the
dress of a plantation negro.
He looked wretched, but not crestfallen.
No doubt he had by this time learnt, or suspected, the fate that was in
store for him; but, for all that, his features exhibited the proud air
of a prince; and the glances which he cast upon the overseer by his
side, but oftener upon Jessuron--whose instrument he knew the other to
be--were those of concentrated anger and defiance.
Not a word escaped his lips, either of protest or reproach. This had
all passed before--when the first rude assault had been made upon him,
to deprive him of his garments and the adornments of his person. The
hour of recrimination was past. He knew he had no alternative but
submission, and he was submitting--though in angry and sullen silence.
He had no idea of what was now designed for him. He had been shut up in
a windowless room, and saw nothing of the spectacle that had just
passed. Some new outrage he anticipated; but of what nature he could
not guess.
He was not allowed to remain long in ignorance. Ravener, roughly
grasping him by the wrist, led him up to the furnace.
The iron by this time was ready--glowing red-hot among the coals. The
operator stood watching for the signal to use it; and on its being
given, he seized the instrument in his grasp, and poised it aloft.
The prince now perceived the intention, but shrank not at the sight.
His eyes were not upon the iron, but, gleaming with a fire like that of
the furnace itself, were directed upon the face of the old Jew--at
intervals upon that of the angel-like demon at his side.
The Jew alone shrank from the glance; his daughter returned it with a
mocking imperturbability!
In another instant the red brand hissed as it burnt into the flesh of
the Fellattas bosom. Prince Cingues was the slave of Jacob Jessuron!
As if the terrible reality had now for the first time burst upon him,
the young man sprang forward with a cry; and before anyone could oppose
his progress, he had bounded up the steps and entered the verandah.
Then, gliding along the gallery, to the spot occupied by Jessuron and
his daughter, he launched himself forward upon the Jew. As he clutched
the latter by the throat, both came together to the ground, and rolled
over and over in the writhings of a desperate struggle.
Fortunate it was for the slave-merchant that his victim had been
disarmed: else that moment would have been fatal to him. As it was, he
came very near being strangled; and had it not been for Ravener and the
two Spaniards, who hastened to his rescue, the betrayal of the Foolah
prince would have been the last treason of his life.
Overpowered by numbers, Cingues was at length secured; and the throat of
the slave-merchant was extricated from his death-like clutch.
"Kill him!" cried the Jew, as soon as he found breath to speak. "No,
don't kill him yet," added he, correcting himself, "not joosh yet, till
I punish him for it! an' if I don't punish him--ach!"
"Flog the savage!" shouted the beautiful Judith; "make an example of
him, Mr Ravener: else those others will be rising upon us in the same
style."
"Yesh, flog him! that'll do to begin with. Flog him now, goot Ravener.
Give him a hundred lashes thish minute!"
"Ay, ay!" responded the overseer, dragging the victim down the steps;
"I'll give him his full dose--never fear you!"
Ravener was as good as his word. The spectacle that followed was even
more horrible to behold than that which has been described: for the
punishment of the lash is among the most fearful of exhibitions.
The young Foolah was tied to a post--one that stood there for the
purpose. A strong _headman_ wielded the cruel _quirt_; and as the last
stripe was administered, completing that horrid hundred, the poor victim
sank fainting against the blood-stained stake.
The occupants of the verandah showed not the slightest signs of having
been moved to pity by this horrid spectacle. On the contrary, both
father and daughter seemed to draw delight from it; and, instead of
retiring when the fearful scene was over, both, seemingly with perfect
unconcern, remained to witness the _finale_ of the day's work--the
marking of the Mandingoes!
Volume One, Chapter XXII.