d, as it here
stands, by the late Mr. R---, stipendiary magistrate; himself a
Creole and a man of colour:--

'When I was a lad of about seventeen years of age, I was very
frequently on a sugar-estate belonging to a relation of mine; and
during crop-time particularly I took good care to be there.

'Owing to my connection with the owner of the estate, I naturally
had some authority with the people; and I did my best to preserve
order amongst them, particularly in the boiling-house, where there
used to be a good deal of petty theft, especially at night; for we
had not then the powerful machinery which enables the planter to
commence his grinding late and finish it early.

'There was one African on the estate who was the terror of the
Negroes, owing to his reputed supernatural powers as an Obeah-man.

'This man, whom I will call Martin, was a tall, powerful Negro, who,
even apart from the mysterious powers with which he was supposed to
be invested, was a formidable opponent from his mere size and
strength.

'I very soon found that Martin was determined to try his authority
and influence against mine; and I resolved to give him the earliest
possible opportunity for doing so.

'I remember the occasion when we first came into contact perfectly
well. It was a Saturday night, and we were boiling off. The
boiling-house was but very dimly lighted by two murky oil-lamps, the
rays from which could scarcely penetrate through the dense
atmosphere of steam which rose from the seething coppers.
Occasionally a bright glow from the furnace-mouths lighted up the
scene for a single instant, only to leave it the next moment darker
than ever.

'It was during one of these flashes of light that I distinctly saw
Martin deliberately filling a large tin pan with sugar from one of
the coolers.

'I called out to him to desist; but he never deigned to take the
slightest notice of me. I repeated my order in a louder and more
angry tone; whereupon he turned his eyes upon me, and said, in a
most contemptuous tone, "Chut, ti beque: quitte moue tranquille, ou
tende sinon malheur ka rive ou." (Pshaw, little white boy: leave
me alone, or worse will happen to you.)

'It was the tone more than the words themselves that enraged me; and
without for one moment reflecting on the great disparity between us,
I made a spring from the sort of raised platform on which I stood,
and snatching the panful of sugar from h