"Who could have thought that it would happen?" he was chattering. "Not a soul in Mississippi or Louisiana knows me — not a soul — and this fiend from Georgia has to cross my path! What is he doing here? Why didn't Crixus see that this could happen? Why did I let myself be driven into this calamity?" He jerked up his head, glaring through his tears. "What are you going to do?"
"Shut up!" says I. "Keep your voice down! He hasn't seen you yet, has he?" I was trying to weigh the chances, to plan ahead in case we were discovered. "Perhaps he won't — there's no reason why he should, is there? He'll be travelling on the boiler deck or the texas — there's no reason why he should come down here, unless he has niggers with him, by God! Has he?"
"No — no, there were no new coffles came aboard at Natchez. But if he should, if —"
"He won't, then. Even if he did, why should he see you, if you lie low and keep out of sight? He's not going to go peering into the face of every nigger just for fun. Look, what's his name?"
"Omohundro — Peter Omohundro of Savannah. He is a terrible creature, I tell you —"
"Look, there's nothing to do but sit tight," says I. It was a nasty shaker, no error, but common sense told me it wasn't as bad as he made out it was. I don't need any encouragement to terror, as a rule, but I can count chances, and there wasn't a damned thing to be done except watch out and hope The odds were heavy that Omohundro wouldn't come anywhere near him, if he did, thmks I, then Master Randolph can look out for himself, but in the meantime the best thing to do is get some of his almighty cockiness back into him.
"You keep out of sight and keep quiet," says I. "That's all we can do —"
"All! You mean you intend to do nothing! To wait until he sees me?"
"He won't — unless your vapourings attract attention!" I snapped. "I'll watch out for him, never fear. At the first hint that be may come down here, I'll be on hand. You've got the key to your irons hidden, haven't you? Well, then, you stay behind the bales and keep your eyes open. There isn't a chance in a million of his seeing you, if you are careful."
That calmed him down a little; I believe that he had been more angry than frightened, really, which in itself was a relief to me. He blackguarded Crixus some more, and threw in a few withering remarks about my own shortcomings, and there I left him, with a promise to return later and report any developments. I won't deny I was rattled, but I've had a lot worse perils hanging over me, and when I considered the size of the boat, and the hordes of folk aboard, white and nigger, I told myself we should be all right.
The first thing was to get a sight of Omohundro, which wasn't difficult. By discreet inquiry I got him pointed out to me by a nigger waiter: a big, likely-looking bastard with a scarred face and heavy whiskers, one of your tough, wide-awake gentlemen who stared carefully at whoever was talking to him, spoke in a loud, steady way, and laughed easily. I also discovered that he was travelling only as far as Napoleon, which we ought to reach on the following evening. So that was all to the good, as I told Randolph later; he wasn't going to have much time for prying about the boat. But I didn't sleep much that night; even the Outside risk of catastrophe is enough to keep me hopping to the water closet, and reaching for the brandy bottle.
Next day passed all too slowly; we lost time at Vicksburg, and I became fretful at the realisation that we wouldn't reach Napoleon ahd get rid of Omohundro before midnight. The man hunseif did nothing to set my bowels a-gallop; he spent the morning loafing about the rail, and sat long after luncheon with a group of Arkansas planters, gossiping. But he never stirred off the boiler deck, and I became hopeful again. With evening and darkness coming, it looked as though we were past the most dangerous time.
I kept an eye on him at dinner, though, and afterwards, when he went into the saloon and settled himself with the planters to booze and smoke the evening away, I was glad of a chance offered me to stay on hand. Through Penny-Jenny I had made the acquaintance of two or three fellows on the boat, and one of them, a red-faced old Kentuckian called Colonel Potter, invited me to make up a game of poker. He was one of your noisy, boozy sports, full of heavy humour and hearty guffaws; he fumbled at Penny's thighs under table, slapped backs, twitted me about the Battle of New Orleans, and generally played Bacchus. With him there was a pot-bellied planter named Bradlee, with a great fund of filthy jokes, and a young Arkansan called Harney Shepherdson, who had a yellow whore in tow. Just the kind of company I like, and I was able to watch Omohundro at the same time.
He left his friends after a while, and during a pause in our game he approached our table. Potter welcomed him boisterously, pressed him to sit down, introduced us all round, called for another bottle, and said would Omohundro take a hand.
"No, thankee, colonel," says he. "Matter of fact, I'm taking the liberty of intrudin' on your little party in the hope I can kindly have a little word with your friend here —" he indicated Bradlee, to my relief "— on a matter of business. If the ladies will forgive, that is; I'm due off at Napoleon in an hour or two, so hopin' you won't mind."
"Feel free, suh; help y'self," cries Potter, and Omohundro turns to Bradlee.
"Understand you have some niggers below, sub," says he, and my innards froze at the words. "Couple of Mande's 'mong 'em, accordin' to my friends yonder. Now, while I'm not on a buyin' trip, you understand, I never miss a Mande if I can help it. Wonder if you feel inclined to talk business, suh, an' if so, I might take a look at 'em."
I leaned back, hoping no one would notice how the sweat was beginning to pump off me, as I waited for Bradlee's answer.
"Always talk business, anytime," says he. "Got to warn you though, suh, my niggers don't come cheap. Could be askin' a right nice price."
"Could be payin' one, for the right kind of cattle," says Omohundro. "Be deeply 'bliged to you, suh, if I might take a look at 'em for myself; be much beholden to you."
Bradlee said it was fine with him, and heaved himself up, with his apologies to the table. I was shuddering by this time; I must get down to the main deck before them, and get Randolph out of sight somehow. I was on the point of jumping to my feet and making my excuses, when Potter, the interfering oaf, sings out:
"Say, why'nt you take a look at Mr Prescott's coffle while you about it, suh? He got some right prime stock there, ain't you, though? Purtiest set o' niggers I seen in a while — it's so, suh, I assure you. Reckon Mr Prescott's got good taste in mos' things — eh, honey?" And he set Penny squealing with a pinch.
What possessed him to stick his oar in, God knows; just my luck, I suppose. I found Omohundro's eyes on me.
"That so, suh? Well, I ain't rightly buyin', like I said, but if —"
"Nothing for sale, I'm afraid." I strove to sound offhand, and he nodded,
"In that case, your servant, ladies, colonel, gentlemen," and he and Bradlee went off towards the staircase, leaving me floundering. I had to get away, so I started to my feet, saying I must fetch something from my cabin. Potter cried that we were Just about to go on with the game, and Penny squeaked that without me to guide her she couldn't tell the little clover leaves from the other black things on the cards, but by that time I was striding for the staircase, cursing Potter and with panic rising in my chest.
I saw Omohundro and Bradlee disappear downwards just ahead of me, so I hung back, and then slipped down the spiral staircase in their wake. By the time I reached the main deck they were already over at the far port rail, where Bradlee's coffle lay, calling for the overseer to bring another light. It was pretty dim on the main deck, with only a few flare lamps which cast great black shadows among the bales and machinery; the various coffles of niggers were scattered about, nesting among the cargo, with my Own crew up forward, away from the rest.