y distressing to his master.

This poor fellow now, thought the pained American, is the victim of that
sad superstition which associates goblins with the deserted body of man,
as ghosts with an abandoned house. How unlike are we made! What to me,
in like case, would have been a solemn satisfaction, the bare
suggestion, even, terrifies the Spaniard into this trance. Poor
Alexandro Aranda! what would you say could you here see your
friend--who, on former voyages, when you, for months, were left behind,
has, I dare say, often longed, and longed, for one peep at you--now
transported with terror at the least thought of having you anyway nigh
him.

At this moment, with a dreary grave-yard toll, betokening a flaw, the
ship's forecastle bell, smote by one of the grizzled oakum-pickers,
proclaimed ten o'clock, through the leaden calm; when Captain Delano's
attention was caught by the moving figure of a gigantic black, emerging
from the general crowd below, and slowly advancing towards the elevated
poop. An iron collar was about his neck, from which depended a chain,
thrice wound round his body; the terminating links padlocked together at
a broad band of iron, his girdle.

"How like a mute Atufal moves," murmured the servant.

The black mounted the steps of the poop, and, like a brave prisoner,
brought up to receive sentence, stood in unquailing muteness before Don
Benito, now recovered from his attack.

At the first glimpse of his approach, Don Benito had started, a
resentful shadow swept over his face; and, as with the sudden memory of
bootless rage, his white lips glued together.

This is some mulish mutineer, thought Captain Delano, surveying, not
without a mixture of admiration, the colossal form of the negro.

"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 off."

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 ink