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bad place all at once—even Jack, and me Quacco, seem two big lobster. I was wery terrible frighten, and drew back to de corner as far as I could get. Jack did not follow me, but continued standing in de same spot where he had risen up, wid both hand stretch out towards me. I try for speak, but my troat stop up, as if you was plug him wid piece of plantain. 'Quacco,' at length say Jack wery slow, like one parson, 'Quacco, you have say I was fetish man, and hab kill goat and pig—and I say I was so; and dat I have in my time make fetish of oder ting dat have no cleft in him hoof, and hab not four leg, nor one tail. Listen to me, Quacco; you is not goat?'—'No,' say me Quacco, 'certainly I is not goat.'—'You is not pig?' continue Jack.—'No, no—Oh! oh! oh!' groan me Quacco again—'You hab not cloven foot?' him go on to say.—'No,' roar I.—'Nor four leg?'—'No,' again me roar, shaking out my two foot for make him see.—'Nor one tail?'—Here I get mad wid fear, and jump forward wid my drawn bayonet right upon Jack—but, fiz, as if water had been thrown on it, out goes de fire. I nearly stifle wid de smoke, but determined to grapple wid Jack. I tumble all about de hut, but no Jack dere; I try de door—all fast. What shall I do?—he vanish—he must be debil—and I retreat de best way I could, groping along de wall, until I once more get into de corner dat I was leave. 'Oh, my God'' say me Quacco, 'here I sall be murder—or if I be not murder, den I sall be flog for being out of barrick widout leave—Oh, poor me Quacco, poor me Corporal Quacco—oh, to be flog at de triangles would be one comfort, compare wid walk to de hell place in dis fashion!' 'Quacco,' say one voice, it was not Jack voice, 'Quacco.'—'Hillo,' say I, 'who de debil is you next, eh?' No hanswer—den I begin to ruminate again. 'Quacco,' again de voice say.—'Hillo,' again say I, frighten till de sweat hop, hop over my forehead, and den from my chin and de point of my nose,"—("Where may that be?" whispered little Binnacle)—"when it drop down on de floor like small bullets. 'Quacco.'—'Oh, oh, oh!' groan I; for dis time it sound as if one dead somebody was speak out of one hollow coffin, lying at de bottom of one new open grave; 'put you hand at you feet, and see what you catch dere, and eat what you catch dere.' I did so—I find one calabash, wid boil nyam, and piece salt pork dere; I take him up—taste him—wery good—eat him all—why not? 'Quacco,' again say de voice, 'grope for de calabash dat hang against de wall.' I do so—quite heavy—let me see. 'Drink what in him,' again say de debil—'To be sure, Massa Debil,' say I, 'why not?' I taste him—good rum—ah, ah, ah—wery good rum, when flash de fire again blaze up right cheery, but I see no one; so I begin to look about, and de first ting I do was to put down my hand where I had replaced, de calabash at my feet. Mercy Heaven! what I lift? One skull, fresh and bloody, of one dead shild, wid some dirt at de bottom, and some fedders, and de shell of one egg. 'Oh, oh, oh! obeah, obeah!' shout I. And de calabash, what him contain? I pour out some on de fire—blaze, whatever it was—blaze up in my face and singe my hair, oh, wery mosh—make my head smell like de sheep head de Scotch agitant sarvant boil for him massa dinner on Sunday, when him too sick to dine at de mess. 'Dis will never do,' say I Quacco; 'let me see what stuff dis can be I was drink;' and I pour some on de white bench beside de fire. Oh, mammy Juba—O—O—O—it was blood! And what is dat small black box I see below de bench? I capsize him. 'Debil,' say I Quacco, 'what him is?' Massa, it was one leetle coffin tree feet long, wid de grave-clothes in him, but green and festering as if de rotting dead picaninny had been new remove. 'Quacco,' again say dat terrible voice, 'what you eat for yam was dirt from your fodder's grave, Quacco—look at him.'—'Oh, oh,' again roar I; 'but, good Massa Debil, who go to Africa for him, eh?'—'Hold your peace and be dam,' say de voice; 'and what you drink for rum, was your moder's blood; so, Quacco, you mosh swear to keep Jack secret, and to help him, and to do whatever him tell you, even if it be to shoot your hofficer.'—Here I go mad altogeder—I dance about de fire—whip, in one second it go out entirely—I jump up and down—de voice still continue to sing out—oder two voice sing out along wid him, 'Where dem evil spirit can be conceal?' say I—'some one must be on de rafter, couple you call, of de roof above my head calabash, for I can't find no debil on de floor of de hut, none at all,' say I; so I jomp up again, when my head knock against someting. 'Oh,' say somebody. 'Ah,' say me, Quacco. I leap once more, and pike up my naked bayonet before me—It tick in someting—what it was I can't tell; it feel as if I had dig him into one rump of beef—large yell instantly shake de entire hut—I jump again—heavy ting fall down on me—I scramble to get away, but one of de debils scramble to hold me down—I turn to de left—I lay hold of de hand of anoder on dem—no doubt de one who was speak. 'Ho, ho,' say I Quacco; so I make clever slide from between dem. De two debils grapple one anoder—gurgle, gurgle—squeak, squeak—one on dem was strangling de oder. I almost laugh, when some one hit me a heavy blow behind de ear; I faint away—dead—and—and I remember noting none at all, until I find myself, when, still it was dark night, all beat and bruise, and wid swimming head, in my hammock in de barrick at Fort Augusta. I sleep sound till near daybreak, however, when I turn myself, and say, 'Hab I Quacco been dronk last night?' I tink so; 'Or has all dis been one dream?' Maybe. Den I put up my hand to my head, but I never get soch bumps and tumps in one dream before. Dere was only tree oder of our men sleep in dat end of de barrick where I was, de rest being two rooms off, dose between us being under repair; one on dem was Ogly Jack, and de oder two was de wery dentical rascail I have mention before, Mundingo Tom and Yellow-skin Paul—Dem all tree eider were sound asleep, in dem hammocks, or pretended dey were so—for when I feel de cool damp morning breeze come troo de open window at one side of de barrick-room and blow clean out at de oder; and see de morning star twinkle bright and clear in de red east, and de pale-faced buccra moon, just sinking behind de brushwood on Hellshire Point, troo de window opposite, I turn myshef again in my hammock, and listen to de roar of de surf in de distance, and rub my eyes again, and say 'it not morning yet,'—But presently de trute push himself into my eye, and I say 'It is daybroke, and sore or sound, up must I Quacco get.' Just under de window, by dis time, I was hear some low grumbling voices, and coughs, and loud yawns; den I hear hollow tumbling sounds like when drum is place on de ground; den more grumbles, and coughs, and yawns; den de squeaking of de drum braces, as de leetle drummer pull dem tight, and de tootletoo of de fifer, as dem get all ready. At length Old Spearpoint, de drum-major, sing out wery gruff, 'fall in, music,' and next minute roll went de drum, squeak went de fife; roll went de drum, squea-eak went de fife very shrill; roll went de drum de tird time, and squea-ea-eak went de fife, very too dam shril dis last time; and away dem stamp rum dum dum round de barrick-yard wid dere reveillie. We all tumble out, and fall in on parade—still dark—we stand to our arms, de moon go down, but de morning star glance cold and clear on de bayonet and bright barrels of de guns—de great Duke no was brown de barrel den, God bless him. Search arms,' de sergeant say. We do so—half pace to de right—so in dat position I see well what Ogly Jack, who was my rear rank man, was do. De Serjeant approach me—I send down my steel ramrod wid one bang—he shomp up wid a loud ring one foot out of my musket—it really surprise me how far de ramrod shomp, as I send him home wid scarcely no strength none at all. 'Ha, no for noting my ramrod shomp so, someting past common here,' say I to myshef—de next man to me in de front rank was Yellow-skin Paul, and de next man to Ogly Jack was Mundingo Tom. As me Quacco was de right hand man of de front rank of de grenadiers, so Jack was de right hand man of de rear rank—well, Yellow-skin Paul make believe dat him send him ramrod home, but I notice he catch him between his finger and tumb, so as he never reach de bottom. 'Ho, ho,' tink I to myself, 'who shall say dat gun no load!' I keep quite still—de Serjeant by and by come to Jack—he catch de ramrod same way, and de Serjeant being half asleep, eider did not notice dis, or him tought noting about it. Presently he desire Mundingo Tom to search arms—he bang his ramrod down I saw, wid design to catch him like de oders, but in his hurry it slipt troo his fingers, and go home thud. 'Ho, ho,' say I again to myself, 'dis piece is also load'—What was to be do?—de Serjeant notice dis one—'dat firelock is load, you scoundril.'—'No,' say Mundingo Tom, 'but I leave some tow in him, beg pardon, massa serjeant.'—'You dem rascail,' say de serjeant, 'you never is better, you lazy dog—fall out, sir, and draw de'——'Attention,' call out de agitant at dis moment; 'de left wheel into line—marsh'—tramp, tramp, tramp, whir—de line is form. 'Stand at ease—A Serjeant from each company for blank cartridges.' So away step de serjeant, who had given Mundingo Tom a rating, and I take de opportunity of whisper Jack—'I say, Jack, what is in de wind? I have great mind to peach my sospicion.' He say nosing; and den I say, 'Poo, all my fear must be nonsense—all must be a dream'—de
