Читать книгу Ponteach - Robert Rogers L. - Страница 8

Table of Contents

Scene I. An Indian Trading House.

Enter M'Dole and Murphey, two Indian Traders, and their Servants.

M'Dole.

So, Murphey, you are come to try your Fortune

Among the Savages in this wild Desart?

Murphey.

Ay, any Thing to get an honest Living,

Which 'faith I find it hard enough to do;

Times are so dull, and Traders are so plenty,

That Gains are small, and Profits come but slow.

M'Dole.

Are you experienc'd in this kind of Trade?

Know you the Principles by which it prospers,

And how to make it lucrative and safe?

If not, you're like a Ship without a Rudder,

That drives at random, and must surely sink.

Murphey.

I'm unacquainted with your Indian Commerce,

And gladly would I learn the Arts from you,

Who're old, and practis'd in them many Years.

M'Dole.

That is the curst Misfortune of our Traders,

A thousand Fools attempt to live this Way,

Who might as well turn Ministers of State.

But, as you are a Friend, I will inform you

Of all the secret Arts by which we thrive,

Which if all practis'd, we might all grow rich,

Nor circumvent each other in our Gains.

What have you got to part with to the Indians?

Murphey.

I've Rum and Blankets, Wampum, Powder, Bells,

And such-like Trifles as they're wont to prize.

M'Dole.

'Tis very well: your Articles are good:

But now the Thing's to make a Profit from them,

Worth all your Toil and Pains of coming hither.

Our fundamental Maxim is this,

That it's no Crime to cheat and gull an Indian.

Murphey.

How! Not a Sin to cheat an Indian, say you?

Are they not Men? hav'n't they a Right to Justice

As well as we, though savage in their Manners?

M'Dole.

Ah! If you boggle here, I say no more;

This is the very Quintessence of Trade,

And ev'ry Hope of Gain depends upon it;

None who neglect it ever did grow rich,

Or ever will, or can by Indian Commerce.

By this old Ogden built his stately House,

Purchas'd Estates, and grew a little King.

He, like an honest Man, bought all by Weight,

And made the ign'rant Savages believe

That his Right Foot exactly weigh'd a Pound:

By this for many Years he bought their Furs,

And died in Quiet like an honest Dealer.

Murphey.

Well, I'll not stick at what is necessary:

But his Device is now grown old and stale,

Nor could I manage such a barefac'd Fraud.

M'Dole.

A thousand Opportunities present

To take Advantage of their Ignorance;

But the great Engine I employ is Rum,

More pow'rful made by certain strength'ning Drugs.

This I distribute with a lib'ral Hand,

Urge them to drink till they grow mad and valiant;

Which makes them think me generous and just,

And gives full Scope to practise all my Art.

I then begin my Trade with water'd Rum,

The cooling Draught well suits their scorching Throats.

Their Fur and Peltry come in quick Return:

My Scales are honest, but so well contriv'd,

That one small Slip will turn Three Pounds to One;

Which they, poor silly Souls! ignorant of Weights

And Rules of Balancing, do not perceive.

But here they come; you'll see how I proceed.

Jack, is the Rum prepar'd as I commanded?

Jack.

Yes, sir, all's ready when you please to call.

M'Dole.

Bring here the Scales and Weights immediately.

You see the Trick is easy and conceal'd.

[Shewing how to slip the scales.

Murphey.

By Jupiter, it's artfully contriv'd;

And was I King, I swear I'd knight th' Inventor.

—Tom, mind the Part that you will have to act.

Tom.

Ah, never fear, I'll do as well as Jack.

But then, you know, an honest Servant's Pains

Deserve Reward.

Murphey.

O! I'll take care of that.

Enter a number of Indians with packs of fur.

1st Indian.

So, what you trade with Indians here to-day?

M'Dole.

Yes, if my Goods will suit, and we agree.

2nd Indian.

'Tis Rum we want, we're tired, hot, and thirsty.

3rd Indian.

You, Mr. Englishman, have you got Rum?

M'Dole.

Jack, bring a Bottle, pour them each a Gill.

You know which Cask contains the Rum. The Rum?

1st Indian.

It's good strong Rum, I feel it very soon.

M'Dole.

Give me a Glass. Here's Honesty in Trade;

We English always drink before we deal.

2nd Indian.

Good Way enough; it makes one sharp and cunning.

M'Dole.

Hand round another Gill. You're very welcome.

3rd Indian.

Some say you Englishmen are sometimes Rogues;

You make poor Indians drunk, and then you cheat.

1st Indian.

No, English good. The Frenchmen give no Rum.

2nd Indian.

I think it's best to trade with Englishmen.

M'Dole.

What is your Price for Beaver Skins per Pound?

1st Indian.

How much you ask per Quart for this strong Rum?

M'Dole.

Five Pounds of Beaver for One Quart of Rum.

1st Indian.

Five Pounds? Too much. Which is 't you call Five Pound?

M'Dole.

This little Weight. I cannot give you more.

1st Indian.

Well, take 'em; weigh 'em. Don't you cheat us now.

M'Dole.

No: He that cheats an Indian should be hang'd.

[Weighing the packs.

There's Thirty Pounds precisely of the Whole;

Five times Six is Thirty. Six Quarts of Rum.

Jack, measure it to them: you know the Cask.

This Rum is sold. You draw it off the best.

[Exeunt Indians to receive their rum.

Murphey.

By Jove, you've gain'd more in a single Hour

Than ever I have done in Half a Year;

Curse on my Honesty! I might have been

A little King, and liv'd without Concern,

Had I but known the proper Arts to thrive.

M'Dole.

Ay, there's the Way, my honest Friend, to live.

[Clapping his shoulder.

There's Ninety Weight of Sterling Beaver for you,

Worth all the Rum and Trinkets in my Store;

And, would my Conscience let me to the Thing,

I might enhance my Price, and lessen theirs,

And raise my Profits to an higher Pitch.

Murphey.

I can't but thank you for your kind Instructions,

As from them I expect to reap Advantage.

But should the Dogs detect me in the Fraud,

They are malicious, and would have Revenge.

M'Dole.

Can't you avoid them? Let their Vengeance light

On others' Heads, no matter whose, if you

Are but secure, and have the Cain in Hand:

For they're indiff'rent where they take Revenge,

Whether on him that cheated, or his Friend,

Or on a Stranger whom they never saw,

Perhaps an honest Peasant, who ne'er dreamt

Of Fraud or Villainy in all his life;

Such let them murder, if they will a Score,

The Guilt is theirs, while we secure the Gain,

Nor shall we feel the bleeding Victims Pain.

[Exeunt.

Scene II. A Desart.

Enter Orsbourn and Honnyman, two English Hunters.

Orsbourn.

Long have we toil'd, and rang'd the Woods in vain,

No Game, nor Track, nor Sign of any Kind

Is to be seen; I swear I am discourag'd

And weary'd out with this long fruitless Hunt.

No Life on Earth besides is half so hard,

So full of Disappointments, as a Hunter's:

Each Morn he wakes he views the destin'd Prey,

And counts the Profits of th' ensuing Day;

Each Ev'ning at his curs'd ill Fortune pines,

And till next Day his Hope of Gain resigns.

By Jove, I'll from these Desarts hasten home,

And swear that never more I'll touch a Gun.

Honnyman.

These hateful Indians kidnap all the Game.

Curse their black Heads! they fright the Deer and Bear,

And ev'ry Animal that haunts the Wood,

Or by their Witchcraft conjure them away.

No Englishman can get a single Shot,

While they go loaded home with Skins and Furs.

'Twere to be wish'd not one of them survived,

Thus to infest the World, and plague Mankind.

Curs'd Heathen Infidels! mere savage Beasts!

They don't deserve to breathe in Christian Air,

And should be hunted down like other Brutes.

Orsbourn.

I only wish the Laws permitted us

To hunt the savage Herd where e'er they're found;

I'd never leave the Trade of Hunting then,

While one remain'd to tread and range the Wood.

Honnyman.

Curse on the Law, I say, that makes it Death

To kill an Indian, more than to kill a Snake.

What if 'tis Peace? these Dogs deserve no Mercy;

Cursed revengeful, cruel, faithless Devils!

They kill'd my Father and my eldest Brother.

Since which I hate their very Looks and Name.

Orsbourn.

And I, since they betray'd and kill'd my Uncle;

Hell seize their cruel, unrelenting Souls!

Tho' these are not the same, 'twould ease my Heart

To cleave their painted Heads, and spill their Blood.

I abhor, detest, and hate them all,

And now cou'd eat an Indian's Heart with Pleasure.

Honnyman.

I'd join you, and soop his savage Brains for Sauce;

I lose all Patience when I think of them,

And, if you will, we'll quickly have Amends

For our long Travel and successless Hunt,

And the sweet Pleasure of Revenge to boot.

Orsbourn.

What will you do? Present, and pop one down?

Honnyman.

Yes, faith, the first we meet well fraught with Furs;

Or if there's Two, and we can make sure Work,

By Jove, we'll ease the Rascals of their Packs,

And send them empty home to their own Country.

But then observe, that what we do is secret,

Or the Hangman will come in for Snacks.

Orsbourn.

Trust me for that; I'll join with all my Heart;

Nor with a nicer Aim, or steadier Hand,

Would shoot a Tyger than I would an Indian.

There is a Couple stalking now this Way

With lusty Packs; Heav'n favour our Design.

Honnyman.

Silence; conceal yourself, and mind your Eye.

Orsbourn.

Are you well charg'd?

Honnyman.

I am. Take you the nearest,

And mind to fire exactly when I do.

Orsbourn.

A charming Chance!

Honnyman.

Hush, let them still come nearer.

[They shoot, and run to rifle the Indians.

They're down, old Boy, a Brace of noble Bucks!

Orsbourn.

Well tallow'd, faith, and noble Hides upon 'em.

[Taking up a pack.

We might have hunted all the Season thro'

For Half this Game, and thought ourselves well paid.

Honnyman.

By Jove, we might, and been at great Expence

For Lead and Powder, here's a single Shot.

Orsbourn.

I swear I've got as much as I can carry.

Honnyman.

And faith I'm not behind; this Pack is heavy.

But stop; we must conceal the tawny Dogs,

Or their blood-thirsty Countrymen will find them,

And then we're bit. There'll be the Devil to pay,

They'll murder us, and cheat the Hangman too.

Orsbourn.

Right. We'll prevent all Mischief of this Kind.

Where shall we hide their savage Carcases?

Honnyman.

There they will lie conceal'd and snug enough—

[They cover them.

But stay—perhaps ere long there'll be a War,

And then their Scalps will sell for ready Cash

Two Hundred Crowns at least, and that's worth saving.

Orsbourn.

Well! that is true, no sooner said than done—

[Drawing his knife.

I'll strip this Fellow's painted greasy Skull.

[Strips off the scalp.

Honnyman.

A damn'd tough Hide, or my Knife's devilish dull—

[Takes the other scalp.

Now let them sleep to-night without their Caps,

And pleasant Dreams attend their long Repose.

Orsbourn.

Their Guns and Hatchets now are lawful Prize,

For they'll not need them on their present Journey.

Honnyman.

The Devil hates Arms, and dreads the Smell of Powder;

He'll not allow such Instruments about him,

They're free from training now, they're in his Clutches.

Orsbourn.

But, Honnyman, d'ye think this is not Murder?

I vow I'm shock'd a little to see them scalp'd,

And fear their Ghosts will haunt us in the Dark.

Honnyman.

It's no more Murder than to crack a Louse,

That is, if you've the Wit to keep it private.

And as to Haunting, Indians have no Ghosts,

But as they live like Beasts, like Beasts they die.

I've kill'd a Dozen in this self-same Way,

And never yet was troubled with their Spirits.

Orsbourn.

Then I'm content; my Scruples are remov'd.

And what I've done, my Conscience justifies.

But we must have these Guns and Hatchets alter'd,

Or they'll detect th' Affair, and hang us both.

Honnyman.