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

BECOMING AMERICA
REVOLUTIONARY AND EARLY NATIONAL PERIOD LITERATURE
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 delity, 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 pretense of seeing whether, as he had prophesied, any signs of a
breeze were visible.
Walking forward to the main-mast, he stood awhile thinking over the scene,
and not without some undened 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 rst 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!
He was about to speak in sympathy to the negro, but with a timid reluctance he
now re-entered the cuddy.
Presently master and man came forth; Don Benito leaning on his servant as if
nothing had happened.
But a sort of love-quarrel, after all, thought Captain Delano.
He accosted Don Benito, and they slowly walked together. They had gone but a
few paces, when the steward—a tall, rajah-looking mulatto, orientally set o with
a pagoda turban formed by three or four Madras handkerchiefs wound about his
head, tier on tier—approaching with a saalam, announced lunch in the cabin.
On their way thither, the two captains were preceded by the mulatto, who,
turning round as he advanced, with continual smiles and bows, ushered them on,
a display of elegance which quite completed the insignicance of the small bareheaded
Babo, who, as if not unconscious of inferiority, eyed askance the graceful
steward. But in part, Captain Delano imputed his jealous watchfulness to that
peculiar feeling which the full-blooded African entertains for the adulterated one.
As for the steward, his manner, if not bespeaking much dignity of self-respect, yet
evidenced his extreme desire to please; which is doubly meritorious, as at once
Christian and Chestereldian.
Captain Delano observed with interest that while the complexion of the mulatto
was hybrid, his physiognomy was European—classically so.
“Don Benito,” whispered he, “I am glad to see this usher-of-the-golden-rod of
yours; the sight refutes an ugly remark once made to me by a Barbadoes planter;
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