“A carpenter!  How did you learn your trade, and obtain your freedom?”

“Larn trade board man-of-war, sar—­man-of-war make me free.”

Mr Berecroft, who had been listening to the colloquy, took up the discourse.

“Were you born in this country?”

“No, sar! me Ashantee man.”

“Then how did you come here?”

“Why, sar, ab very fine battle in Ashantee country.  Take me and send me down to coast; sell me for slave.  Go on board French schooner—­English frigate take schooner, send me to Sarra Leon.”

“Well, what did you do there?”

“Bind ’prentice, sar, to Massa Cawly, for farteen years—­all de same as slave; work very hard; yam bad; plenty fever in dat country—­much better here.”

“Then how did you get away from Sierra Leone?”

“Go to sleep one day in de bush—­tieves come steal me, take me down to coast, sell me again.”

“Well, where did you go then?”

“Bard schooner again, sar.  Another man-of-war take schooner in West Indies:  send her in prize.  Keep me and some on board becase want hands; keep me, becase speak little English.”

“How did you like a man-of-war?” inquired Newton.

“Man-of-war very fine place; but all slaves there—­captain steal men every ship he come to.  But sailor no tink so; ebery night we all sing, Britong nebber, nebber, nebber, will be slave.  Make me laugh, sar,” continued the man, showing his teeth with a broad grin.

“What was the frigate’s name?”

“Very fine name, sar, call her Daddy Wise."[1]

[Footnote 1:  Dedaigneuse, we suppose.]

“How long were you on board of her?”

“Far year, sar; larn carpenter trade—­go to England—­pay off—­get plenty money—­come out here in marchant vessel; England very fine place, but too much cold,” said the negro, shuddering at the bare recollection.

“Now, tell me,” said Kingston, “of course you recollect being in your own country?  Which do you like best—­that or this?”

“Ashantee very good country—­Barbadoes very good country.  Ashantee nebber work, hab no money—­here plenty work, plenty money.”

“Well, but where would you rather be—­here or there?”

“Don’t know, sar.  Like to find country where no work, plenty money.”

“Not singular in his opinion,” observed Newton.

“Men do all work here, sar:  women only talk,” continued the negro.  “My country, men nebber work at all—­women do all work, and feed men.”

“Then what does the man do?” inquired Berecroft.

“Man, sar,” replied the negro, proudly, “man go fight—­go kill.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes, sar, that all.”

“So, you then mean to say, that if you could go back to Ashantee now you would remain there?”

“Yes, sar, stay there—­do no work—­sleep all day—­make women feed me.”

“How inveterate is early habit!” observed Mr Berecroft.  “This man, although free in a civilised country, would return to his idleness, and resume his former ignorance.”