A DISCOURSE WITH MY NEW-FOUND FRIEND MATTHEW PENNYFARDEN.
When we got to the foot of the stairs my comrade put out the light, and
I, laying my hand on his shoulder, as he bade me, followed softly at his
heels in the dark for some paces, when we came to a door that stood
ajar. Here he paused and peered out carefully; then, pushing the door
open, he passed out into the open.
He gave me the bag of food to hold, lifted up his finger as a sign to me
to wait there, and then entered the tower again by another door in that
part where the guard lay; and so I stood, with the drawn knife in my
hand and my eyes on the lookout for a foe, till he returned with a sword
in each hand and a knife stuck in his belt. He seemed to have been gone
an age, but I believe he was no more than ten minutes at the outside;
but I was consumed with impatience.
He put one of the swords in my hand, and signed to me to follow. Then we
threaded our way betwixt the tower and the huts, and coming to the end
of a little alley he again peers out into the space beyond, first to the
right and then to the left, very carefully, and seeing no one (for the
Portugals here lay within doors because there was no turf, as in the
other stations, but only hard, rocky ground), he nudged me with his
elbow and struck out pretty briskly to the gate he had previously set
ajar, which we passed, and so got out without discovery, to our great
comfort.
Our road lay up the hills on the other side of the valley, and a rough
and troublesome way it was by reason of the loose stones and deep holes
which in certain parts, where the rocks shut out the light of the stars
on either hand, were like so many pitfalls. Yet I was too light of heart
to heed the bruising of my shins a farthing, though my comrade did curse
prodigiously, spite of his saying he would not speak for a league, as I
have told.
When we had gone about an hour, my comrade, as I call him, after coming
nigh to break his neck over a rock, sits him down on a rock, saying we
might now well afford to fetch our breath and rub our shins for a space.
So now, sitting down beside him, I begged he would loose his tongue to
satisfy my earnest anxiety.
"Well," says he with a sigh, "I am not used to this business, and 'tis a
long story. Howsomever, as you desire it, here goes. My name is Matthew
Pennyfarden, and I was born in the village of Newlyn, near Penzance, in
Cornwall, in the year of our Lord one thousand five hundred and
ninety-four."
"Nay," says I, "you may skip thirty-three years of your adventures, and
come to what took place when, you first saw my cousin, Lady Biddy Fane."
"Lord love you, master," says he, "that simplifies the job vastly" (he
was a sly rogue of some humor). "Well, then, you must know that when I
came to the station yesterday afternoon with four other slaves, burdened
with gold muck from that part of the valley where the mines lie, our
factor tells me that the merchant Senhor de Pino would speak with me;
whereupon I goes to the factor's office with him, and there De Pino asks
me if I could write English and would earn a jar of wine; to which I
made reply that I could do the one as readily as I would the other,
seeing I was two years an attorney's clerk before I was so foolish as to
quit my employ and run away to sea, and was now as dry as any limekiln.
On this he sets me down before a table, with an inkhorn and a sheet of
paper for my work, and tells me in his own tongue what he would have
writ in mine. When I had done this, he goes over the writing with me a
dozen times, questioning as to this word and doubting as to that,
scratching out here and writing in there, till we could find no further
room for improvement, when he gives me a fresh sheet of paper and has it
all writ out again for fair. So, having come to an end of the business,
he orders the factor to give me a jar of wine, as he had promised, and
send me back to the mine. Now a man can not serve the devil without
learning the smell of brimstone, and I had been long enough with my
attorney to get a pretty keen scent for mischief; wherefore, as I went
back to my accursed mine, turning this affair over in my mind, I came to
a pretty fair understanding of what lay at the bottom of this
letter-writing. Yet, to make sure, I turns out of my way (being alone,
for the rest had gone back with their empty baskets while I was writing
the letter)--I goes about, I say, to sneak up among the rocks to where I
could get a fair view of the station without being seen. There I had
just posted myself when I see the Portugals bearing a man tied up neck
and crop to the guardhouse, and says I to myself, 'That's Cousin
Pengilly, or I'm a Dutchman.' When you were clapped up and the Portugals
had come back from the guardhouse, the mules were brought out and
packed, and one part of the train was sent on, while the other waited in
readiness to start, which perplexed me somewhat till ten minutes later,
when a female was led out by De Pino and seated on a mule, and that part
of the cavalcade set out pretty briskly, as if to overtake the other.
Then I hit upon it that De Pino had practiced this stratagem to make
your cousin believe you had gone on first, and hasten her departure from
the station. But I pray you, master," says he, breaking off and opening
the bag of victuals, "do pick a bit, for I warrant you have had nothing
betwixt your lips since you was clapped up--have you, now?"
"You are right," says I, falling to with a relish; "but go on."
"Ay," says he, "I guessed as much. They served me that same way when I
first came into captivity, starving me till I was too weak to make
resistance, and glad enough to accept the work of a slave that I might
fill my belly. And surely that was the fate they intended for you. And
this did put me in mind not to touch a drop of the wine, lest a taste
might tempt me to drink all, but to leave it hid up in that rock and go
back to my work dry, and also to set aside my supper when it was served
out to us at sunset."
"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed, "no wonder you drank so heartily when we
were in the tower."
"Ay," says he, "I overcame the flesh as long as I could, but I could
hold out no longer."
"And you have fasted full as long as I have, by the same token," says I.
"You've hit it again," says he; "but that did not call for such courage
as t'other, for I would rather fast a whole day than go dry an hour."
This fellow's generosity touched my heart, and I would not eat another
morsel, nor let him speak, till he had eaten his fair share of the food.
And now I saw why he had been so loth to begin a long history with the
bag of victuals untouched.
When we had come to the end of our meal, my comrade proposed we should
move on; "for," says he, "I care not how I knock my ribs against the
rock now that I have something within me to resist the shock."
When we had got on our way again, and were come to a fairly level part
of the road where we could converse without inconvenience, I asked my
comrade if there was any truth in that letter concerning soldiery being
sent by Dom Sebastian to recover us.
"Lord love you!" says he, "not a word; 'twas all a plan of De Pino's
invention. But tell me, master, how you came to fall into the hands of
such a villain."
When I told him briefly my history, he considers awhile, and then says
he:
"You have naught to fear from Sebastian; for though he is as treacherous
as any other Portugal, and not one of them is a true man, yet have these
rogues a certain kind of fair dealing amongst themselves, and having
sold you to De Pino he would not go back on his bargain, though
Rodrigues should offer twice as much to get you back as Dom Sebastian
received for parting with you."
"Then," says I, "you believe Dom Sebastian sold us to De Pino?"
"I am as certain of that as I am that De Pino sold you to our factor."
"And how are you certain of that, my friend?" says I.
"Because he did not stick his dagger into you when you were asleep. But
for his avarice, you would not be alive now, you may be sure. A pretty
taking our factor will be in when we find you flown; 'tis as good as
twenty pieces of eight out of his pocket. We must look to it, master,
that he doesn't catch us, for certain it is he will hunt us."
"What would he do if he caught us?"
"You might get off with a flogging and a pretty long spell of
starvation; but he'd flea me, as he has before; and once is enough for a
lifetime, as you would agree if you knew what it was like."
"You have spoken before of this fleaing," says I; "what do you mean?"
"If there was light I would show you my back for a sign. I've had a
piece of skin stripped off my body an ell long and an inch wide."
"Good God!" says I, "is such barbarity possible?"
"Ay," says he, "and worse. I'll be fleaed rather than have the soles of
my feet roasted if he gives me my choice."
Only to hear of this wickedness made me sick, and I could say nothing
for some minutes.
"Tell me, Matthew," says I, when I had got over my qualm, "why you
risked such a fearful punishment to liberate a man you had never seen?"
"Because you was an Englishman," says he stoutly. "Lord love you,
master, I knew I should find you a true man and a kind friend."
"But," says I, "couldn't you as well have made your escape without me as
with me?"
"No," says he, "for I'd as leave hang myself on a tree ere I started as
be brought to that end by the misery of wandering alone in the woods.
Look you, master, afore you go any further," stopping me, "there's time
to get back to the station, and return to the guardhouse, while the
Portugals are still in a log-sleep, and I would have you understand what
escape means. It means hardships, and suffering, and solitude. We
daren't go near a town, for fear of the Portugals; and we daren't go
near the Indian villages, for every white man is hated by them, with a
very good reason. There's fleaing on one hand, and death on the other;
and we've got to live betwixt 'em as best we may. Take time for
reflection and choose without concern for me."
"Nay," says I, "it needs no reflection to choose between freedom and
slavery"; and taking him by the hand, I drew him onwards.
"You are an Englishman, master, and I love you," says he, "and I shall
love you still more when your hair grows a bit, and you look less like a
Portugal; for I do loathe the very resemblance of those accursed men."
"Surely," says I, "there must be some good men amongst them?"
"Not to my knowledge," says he. "There was one that I thought a decent
sort of a fellow; and he grumbling every day to me of his estate, which
was little better than a slave's, I opened to him a design for escaping
together. He betrayed me; for he was naught but a spy set to that
purpose by our factor, who would test me. And so I got fleaed for
trusting a Portugal; but I trust none henceforth. As for that," adds he,
"we shall have no need to trust 'em, for we two shall be company enough
for each other, I warrant."
"We two?" says I; "nay, we shall be three."
"As how?" says he.
"Why," says I, "are we not on our road to rescue my cousin from the
hands of Lewis de Pino?"
"No," says he, stopping again; "that are we not. For we're giving De
Pino as wide a berth as I can contrive. Our factor will set out on that
path as soon as he finds you flown."
"Friend," says I, "'tis for you to choose betwixt going on with me to
the rescue of my cousin or taking me back to the station."
He tilted his hat forwards, and, scratching his head, was silent a
minute; then, in a grumbling kind of voice, he says:
"What a plague do we want with a female?"
"Would you suffer her to go into slavery?" says I.
"They like it," says he sullenly. "Not at first, but after a bit. She'll
be treated well, and I count she won't thank you from taking her away
from a fine house and rich gowns to wander about in the woods without a
roof to her head or a whole rag to her back."
"Nor matter for that," says I; "she shall be taken out of the Portugal's
hands if I live."
"Well," says he, a little more cheerfully, "if it is to rob the
Portugal, I shall be less loth; and to oblige you, more willing. We must
turn back, howsomever, to those horrid rocks again."
We turned about, and retraced our steps in silence for a while.
"Don't take it amiss, master," says he presently, "if I'm a little bit
downhearted at the prospect of having a lady's society; but I've had so
much of that sort of thing these last ten years that I shouldn't be
sorry if I never saw another female."
"How's that?" says I.
"Why, master," says he, "I'm married."
"And you can quit your wife without regret?" says I.
"It ain't a wife I'm quitting without regret," says he; "it's twenty or
thirty."
I asked him to explain this matter; which he did forthwith, telling me
that all the slaves in those mines were women, and that when one wounded
herself, or fell sick by overwork, so that to save her life it was
necessary she should lay up for a time, she was forthwith married to
him. This strange custom perplexed me until I came to perceive the
motive.
"Have you any children?" says I.
"Children!" says he; "Lord love you, I've got sixty if I've got one. But
you can't expect a father to be very partial to his children when there
so many of 'em. I give you my word, I don't know Jack from Jill; and
they're all orange-tawney."