# A Study in Colour/Chapter 2

II.
wing to the peculiar conditions of the hotel, it was not astonishing that the black servants of the establishment succeeded each other with almost bewildering celerity.
A fat quadroon man-cook, who owed his fixity of tenure more to his stolidity than his talents; a smart-looking mulatto boy, who attended to the bar, and answered generally to the name of Brown; and a mahogany-coloured female, of uncertain age and ragged aspect, who spent the greater portion of her life on her hands and knees floor-cleaning, might be looked upon as forming the permanent staff. As to the chambermaids, they came and went, leaving behind them a dim recollection of various faces—brown, black, and yellow—with which was indistinctly associated a memory of divers romantic ​names, such as Clementina, Evadne, Ursulina, Maud, and Margarita. To individualise them was an impossibility.
One day, however, the Missus, on entering her room, was greeted by a "Marning, Missus," in a singularly distinct, although low voice.
A brown damsel was sitting at the dressing-table, languidly polishing the looking-glass, and admiring herself meanwhile. Most of the chambermaids would have contented themselves with simply doing the latter; but although the present process was a slow one, the mirror was certainly being cleaned after a fashion , and this in itself was remarkable. The polisher looked up, and gazing expectantly at the Missus, added in a markedly friendly manner, "I Justina, Missus. Come as new maid."
​The Missus noticed this extraordinary attribute even more the next day, when Justina, in passing her in the corridor, bestowed upon her another glistening and silvery smile.
It mystified her altogether, for the negroes, like children, dislike pain and trouble, and will lose all their teeth, and suffer tortures from toothache, sooner than pay one timely visit to a dentist; also they have not the money for such things, and Justina's mouth represented much time, pain, and expense.
On the next occasion, however, the Missus had no difficulty in recognising in Justina her old acquaintance under the flamboyant tree; for her teeth shone white, as of old when she stood by the roadside hedge in her red cotton dress.
"Marning, Missus," she said, reproachfully. "One, two, tree days, Missus, dat you not know me 'gain, and yet I come to dis yar hotel jist cos I learn de Missus stay hyar."
At this absolutely gratuitous invention the Missus smiled. It was, however, perfectly characteristic of the speaker.
"I remember you now very well also, Justina," she answered. "I should have known you at once, ​only your silver teeth puzzled me. What has become of them? You certainly had them yesterday."
At this direct question Justina looked down, giggled, hesitated, and at last took heart of grace and spoke out boldly.
"Well, Missus, see hyar. It best to tell de trut. 'Fore I come hyar, I lib two years as butleress down town wid Dr. Parratt, de 'Merican dentist. Mrs. Parratt berry good lady, Missus. I see all de rich ladies come to him. It was grand to see dem, only sometimes de poor tings bawl plenty, 'cos he hurt dem drefful bad. Often, too, dey go 'way wid deir teeth all gilt. Den when I coming hyar, an' want to look fine an' pretty too, I tink ob my teeth. Dey white, Missus, an' I show dem plenty." And Justina gave here a specimen of her wide mouthed smile. "Well, Missus, I tink I will hab fine gilt teeth too, same as de white Buckra ladies; so I tuk some pieces ob silber off ob de wine bottles in de bar. Brown he help me do it. Shampain wine dey call it, an' I cubber my teeth wid de stuff. True it silber, an' no gold, but it shines all de same, an' look smart, an' make me look all de same as de white ladies dat spend ​so much on deir teeth. Dis marning de silber come off, an' so I shall hab to begin again. It offul trouble, Missus, to make it stick on praperly," she added, mournfully.
The Missus, however, expressed such energetic and complete disapproval of this novel adornment, that Justina, after some hesitation, was finally convinced that this time her original ideas of self-beautification were not likely to be received with general success, and agreed to allow her strong white teeth to remain as nature made them for the future.
I have not hitherto made mention that the Missus possessed a baby. She also had a husband, but as his country's requirements generally compelled his absence, and he has nothing to do with their story, we need not trouble ourselves about him.
The baby was a personage, and commanded attention. He was a little boy of some six months old. An affectionate, placid infant, with a faint cloud of fair, fluffy hair on his round and otherwise bald head, with blue serious eyes, and the adorable little hands and feet that are the rightful heritage of all babies. It was chiefly on his account that ​the Missus endured without discontent the great deserted Summerlands Hotel, for being on the slope of the mountains, it was considerably cooler than the stifling streets of Port Albert.
The boy was a constant source of mingled anxiety and amusement to his mother, as is the wont of most only children; but the Creole climate appeared to suit him well, and he grew and flourished with almost tropical haste.
To Justina the pretty white baby boy was a revelation indeed, and it was well-nigh impossible to keep her away from her small self-created deity.
Providence favoured her; for on the Missus's ancient and black nurse falling ill, Justina deliberately and unobtrusively slipped into her place, and, almost before she was aware of it, exchanged the exciting uncertainties of the hotel service for the more monotonous rule of the Missus.
This transfer afforded to the girl herself the keenest satisfaction. If too much devotion be a fault in a nurse, Justina failed in her duties, for her whole heart and soul were bound up in her little charge. It may indeed be said that she completely annexed the baby, but Baby Billy ​seemed on his side perfectly contented with the new arrangement, and prospered even more than before.
Justina would play, romp, and talk with the baby with the frankest enjoyment, and for answer the little fellow would gaze at her with calm and solemn eyes, as if amazed at his attendant's frivolity.
The gravity of little children surpasses anything of the kind in grown-up people. Few men can attain to it. Even a bishop might copy it with credit and advantage.
Justina was indefatigable wherever her "lilly Buckra Massa" was concerned, and a cross or impatient word never crossed her lips where he was in question.
At five o'clock, when it was still dusk, and the only signs of the fast-approaching day were the orange streaks in the purple-blue sky, Justina arose and dressed with care her little "tredger," as she called Baby Billy. Her own toilet at this early hour was a rapid one, and the elaborate washing, combing and oiling that no negress omits, was put off until the heat of the day, when her "tredger" should be fast asleep. Now she merely unswathed her head from the weird​looking white bandage with which, as was her custom (aided by castor oil), she vainly endeavoured to restrain the curliness of her woolly locks, slipped on her cotton frock and shoes, and she was ready for her walk. Indeed, I am not very certain that at this early hour she did not revert to the primitive habits of her childhood, and dispense with the shoes.
"Little Massa" must, of course, wear his best, for the road which she preferred for his morning walk was the highway to Port Albert Market, and to her the cream of the whole proceedings lay in the salutations and admiring exclamations that he received from the negro market-women.
Thus she shed salt tears over a neat and unobtrusive grey garment that the Missus, in a fit of virtuous economy, had made out of a new but unused dress of her own. In vain was its utility and beauty pointed out to Justina, she remained blind to its advantages.
​Nor did a new-fashioned cap, that had been sent out recently from England, fail also to incur her disapproval.
"It may be English, Missus, but it no suit de Massa one bit, an' de people here tink it ugly, so I no let him wear it."
She was so offended, that the Missus had to appease her wrath by the gift of an embroidered white apron, and the purchase of a wholly unnecessary white muslin cape for "the Massa," both of which articles of clothing possessed the Creole stamp of supreme elegance. She was even glad to escape so easily, for some gorgeous Chinese crapes and embroideries having been sent to her shortly afterwards, Justina fixed her affections on a small but brilliant scarlet and sea-green garment.
The Missus caught her in the act of clothing the baby in it one morning, and so promptly asserted her authority, that the rainbow-hued vestment was removed, amid a storm of tears, exclamations,and entreaties.
"Oh, Missus, I 'sprised at you! Do let de lilly Massa wear it. He look so grand for all the women to see him. Missus, dear Missus"—in dulcet tones—"dey tink so much ob him, an' dis dress de only one I ​ebber see dat 'pears good nuff for such a most sweet infant."
As the Missus was silent, and even this flattery was thrown away on her, the plaint was resumed, but in another key.
"Missus"—angrily and reproachfully—"you no care for de Massa as I do, or you no dress him in de ugly grey dress." Another pause. "Missus, dear, nice Missus, let him hab de pretty cloak all red an' green. Jest dis once, Missus!"
But the Missus was like adamant, and the baffled Justina departed on her walk with Billy in his ordinary attire, and her own black eyes brimming over with disappointed tears. Generally, however, she was the merriest of creatures, and even on this occasion, by the time of her return had forgotten all her troubles, and was ready for the lengthy ceremonial of inducing the little Massa to sleep quietly during the heat of the day.
She was accustomed to sing to him for hours strange little snatches of Creole songs, none of them in the least like the so-called "nigger-melodies" that are in vogue in England.
Justina's songs were all rather sad, even when the words were gay, and ​most of them were more in the style of a chant, than what we should term a song.
One of them in particular haunted the Missus like a dream, for it seemed to her like a far-off echo of some long-forgotten tragedy, belonging to the old slavery days:
Jan was far away, Floating on de sea, Floating till de sea goes down. She was a black piccaninny, Jest from ober Guinea, Only—two—months—old.
Oh! when dis chile was born, It was a coloured chile, Tie her to de rigger ob an oar, An' feed her on bananas, Feed her on potatoes, Feed her till de sun goes down.
Hush! hush! baby! Where is your pappy? Ups an' down she goes. Oh! I buy a lilly waggon, To rock dis lilly woman, Rock her till de sun goes down.
The half-savage air died away in a sort of wail, but what sorrows had originally inspired the quaint melody?—all past now and ​forgotten, and serving but as the means for soothing a little white child to sleep.
Another little song was almost pathetic in its simplicity:
My sweetie lub me, My sweetie kiss me, My sweetie tell eberybody dat he lub me. "When I come home fram De—mer—ara—a I—will—marry—you-u-u."
The air was sad and monotonous, but so, alas! was the theme; a very epitome of most Creole courtships. If Baby Billy, however, cried and refused to slumber properly, another lullaby was sure to be intoned:
Oh! what is de matter wid de Massa? Hungry an' thirstly, yeo—o. Oh! whateber is dematter wid my Massa? Tired and sleepy, yeo—o.
The adjectives varied indefinitely, although the dismal tune would last with maddening reiteration for hours. It was, indeed, a test of endurance between Billy's lungs and Justina's, but in the long run the tune always conquered. In consequence this composition may be termed the classic of the Creole nursery.