Becoming America - An Exploration of American Literature from Precolonial to Post-Revolution, 2018a

BECOMING AMERICA
REVOLUTIONARY AND EARLY NATIONAL PERIOD LITERATURE
“See, he waits your question, master,” said the servant.
Thus reminded, Don Benito, nervously averting his glance, as if shunning, by
anticipation, some rebellious response, in a disconcerted voice, thus spoke:—
“Atufal, will you ask my pardon, now?”
The black was silent.
“Again, master,” murmured the servant, with bitter upbraiding eyeing his
countryman, “Again, master; he will bend to master yet.”
“Answer,” said Don Benito, still averting his glance, “say but the one word,
pardon, and your chains shall be o.”
Upon this, the black, slowly raising both arms, let them lifelessly fall, his links
clanking, his head bowed; as much as to say, “no, I am content.”
“Go,” said Don Benito, with inkept and unknown emotion.
Deliberately as he had come, the black obeyed.
“Excuse me, Don Benito,” said Captain Delano, “but this scene surprises me;
what means it, pray?”
“It means that that negro alone, of all the band, has given me peculiar cause of
oense. I have put him in chains; I—”
Here he paused; his hand to his head, as if there were a swimming there, or a
sudden bewilderment of memory had come over him; but meeting his servant’s
kindly glance seemed reassured, and proceeded:—
“I could not scourge such a form. But I told him he must ask my pardon. As yet
he has not. At my command, every two hours he stands before me.”
“And how long has this been?”
“Some sixty days.”
“And obedient in all else? And respectful?”
“Yes.”
“Upon my conscience, then,” exclaimed Captain Delano, impulsively, “he has a
royal spirit in him, this fellow.”
“He may have some right to it,” bitterly returned Don Benito, “he says he was
king in his own land.”
“Yes,” said the servant, entering a word, “those slits in Atufal’s ears once held
wedges of gold; but poor Babo here, in his own land, was only a poor slave; a black
man’s slave was Babo, who now is the white’s.”
Somewhat annoyed by these conversational familiarities, Captain Delano
turned curiously upon the attendant, then glanced inquiringly at his master; but,
as if long wonted to these little informalities, neither master nor man seemed to
understand him.
“What, pray, was Atufal’s oense, Don Benito?” asked Captain Delano; “if it
was not something very serious, take a fool’s advice, and, in view of his general
docility, as well as in some natural respect for his spirit, remit him his penalty.”
“No, no, master never will do that,” here murmured the servant to himself,
“proud Atufal must rst ask master’s pardon. The slave there carries the padlock,
but master here carries the key.”
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