I Now Counted Out Thirty-Five Dollars, Which I Placed In Two
Piles Upon The Table, And Through The Medium
Of Mahomet I
explained to her that she was no longer a slave, as that sum had
purchased her freedom;
At the same time, as it was a large amount
that I had paid, I expected she would remain with us as a servant
until our journey should be over, at which time she should
receive a certain sum in money, as wages at the usual rate.
Mahomet did not agree with this style of address to a slave,
therefore he slightly altered it in the translation, which I at
once detected. The woman looked frightened and uneasy at the
conclusion; I immediately asked Mahomet what he had told her.
"Same like master tell to me!" replied the indignant Mahomet.
"Then have the kindness to repeat to me in English what you said
to her;" I replied. "I tell that slave woman same like master's
word; I tell her master one very good master, she Barrake one
very bad woman; all that good dollars master pay, too much money
for such a bad woman. Now she's master's slave; she belong to
master like a dog; if she not make plenty of good bread, work
hard all day, early morning, late in night, master take a big
stick, break her head."
This was the substance of a translation of my address tinged with
Mahomet's colouring, as being more adapted for the ears of a
slave!I My wife was present, and being much annoyed, we both
assured the woman that Mahomet was wrong, and I insisted upon his
explaining to her literally that "no Englishman could hold a
slave; that the money I had paid rendered her entirely free; that
she would not even be compelled to remain with us, but she could
do as she thought proper; that both her mistress and I should be
exceedingly kind to her, and we would subsequently find her a
good situation in Cairo; in the meantime she would receive good
clothes and wages."
This, Mahomet, much against his will, was obliged to translate
literally. The effect was magical; the woman, who had looked
frightened and unhappy, suddenly beamed with smiles, and without
any warning she ran towards me, and in an instant I found myself
embraced in her loving arms; she pressed me to her bosom, and
smothered me with castor oily kisses, while her greasy ringlets
hung upon my face and neck. How long this entertainment would
have lasted I cannot tell, but I was obliged to cry "Caffa!
Caffa!" (enough! enough!) as it looked improper, and the
perfumery was too rich; fortunately my wife was present, but she
did not appear to enjoy it more than I did; my snow-white blouse
was soiled and greasy, and for the rest of the day I was a
disagreeable compound of smells, castor oil, tallow, musk,
sandal-wood, burnt shells, and Barrake.
Mahomet and Barrake herself, I believe, were the only people who
really enjoyed this little event.
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