{"id":"01KG8AKWPSY0BP5A6VQ77X5QHF","cid":"bafkreihalmia42utnjfybh7er4spgrwohzohjlunrjuxfs5ucizmpaeowa","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4429,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.023Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 23","source_file":"01KG89J1F4D8P9BBX9AMGZ7TX7","start_line":4347,"text":"trim. And no brace or halyard was pulled but to the blithe songs of the\r\ninspirited negroes.\r\n\r\nGood fellows, thought Captain Delano, a little training would make fine\r\nsailors of them. Why see, the very women pull and sing too. These must\r\nbe some of those Ashantee negresses that make such capital soldiers,\r\nI’ve heard. But who’s at the helm. I must have a good hand there.\r\n\r\nHe went to see.\r\n\r\nThe San Dominick steered with a cumbrous tiller, with large horizontal\r\npullies attached. At each pully-end stood a subordinate black, and\r\nbetween them, at the tiller-head, the responsible post, a Spanish\r\nseaman, whose countenance evinced his due share in the general\r\nhopefulness and confidence at the coming of the breeze.\r\n\r\nHe proved the same man who had behaved with so shame-faced an air on\r\nthe windlass.\r\n\r\n“Ah,—it is you, my man,” exclaimed Captain Delano—“well, no more\r\nsheep’s-eyes now;—look straight forward and keep the ship so. Good\r\nhand, I trust? And want to get into the harbor, don’t you?”\r\n\r\nThe man assented with an inward chuckle, grasping the tiller-head\r\nfirmly. Upon this, unperceived by the American, the two blacks eyed the\r\nsailor intently.\r\n\r\nFinding all right at the helm, the pilot went forward to the\r\nforecastle, to see how matters stood there.\r\n\r\nThe ship now had way enough to breast the current. With the approach of\r\nevening, the breeze would be sure to freshen.\r\n\r\nHaving done all that was needed for the present, Captain Delano, giving\r\nhis last orders to the sailors, turned aft to report affairs to Don\r\nBenito in the cabin; perhaps additionally incited to rejoin him by the\r\nhope of snatching a moment’s private chat while the servant was engaged\r\nupon deck.\r\n\r\nFrom opposite sides, there were, beneath the poop, two approaches to\r\nthe cabin; one further forward than the other, and consequently\r\ncommunicating with a longer passage. Marking the servant still above,\r\nCaptain Delano, taking the nighest entrance—the one last named, and at\r\nwhose porch Atufal still stood—hurried on his way, till, arrived at the\r\ncabin threshold, he paused an instant, a little to recover from his\r\neagerness. Then, with the words of his intended business upon his lips,\r\nhe entered. As he advanced toward the seated Spaniard, he heard another\r\nfootstep, keeping time with his. From the opposite door, a salver in\r\nhand, the servant was likewise advancing.\r\n\r\n“Confound the faithful fellow,” thought Captain Delano; “what a\r\nvexatious coincidence.”\r\n\r\nPossibly, the vexation might have been something different, were it not\r\nfor the brisk confidence inspired by the breeze. But even as it was, he\r\nfelt a slight twinge, from a sudden indefinite association in his mind\r\nof Babo with Atufal.\r\n\r\n“Don Benito,” said he, “I give you joy; the breeze will hold, and will\r\nincrease. By the way, your tall man and time-piece, Atufal, stands\r\nwithout. By your order, of course?”\r\n\r\nDon Benito recoiled, as if at some bland satirical touch, delivered\r\nwith such adroit garnish of apparent good breeding as to present no\r\nhandle for retort.\r\n\r\nHe is like one flayed alive, thought Captain Delano; where may one\r\ntouch him without causing a shrink?\r\n\r\nThe servant moved before his master, adjusting a cushion; recalled to\r\ncivility, the Spaniard stiffly replied: “you are right. The slave\r\nappears where you saw him, according to my command; which is, that if\r\nat the given hour I am below, he must take his stand and abide my\r\ncoming.”\r\n\r\n“Ah now, pardon me, but that is treating the poor fellow like an\r\nex-king indeed. Ah, Don Benito,” smiling, “for all the license you\r\npermit in some things, I fear lest, at bottom, you are a bitter hard\r\nmaster.”\r\n\r\nAgain Don Benito shrank; and this time, as the good sailor thought,\r\nfrom a genuine twinge of his conscience.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 23"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AK2X9P0E5X4X6Z77F9M13","peer_type":"intro","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1F4D8P9BBX9AMGZ7TX7","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKWPSB425J9Z4JTMVAQ0P","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKXAXAW741C5Y80D5V13F","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:19.161Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:26.288Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}