Plantation Sketches Part 5

The people, having sufficiently recovered from their shock to jostle one another out of the building, stood huddled together like a flock of frightened sheep; but when the cavalcade had driven off, a subdued clamor of voices arose, all unanimous in contempt for "dese here po'

white, who'd ha' knowed better 'n to come meddlin' long o' Marster's folks ef Marster wan't down on de bed an' mos' like to die!"

That the dull and simple brain of the old man should have been capable of any formulated plan is not to be imagined, and when upon the following day he was taken before the justice for examination, he merely acted from an instinct of affection in shielding his young master, even at the risk of his own life. When questioned, he preserved an obstinate silence; then, when forced to speak, denied having seen either of the boys upon the day of their disappearance, but, when cross-questioned, admitted that he had seen Mars Phil in the Vine Ridge woods; and finally, when taxed with the blood upon the ground and with having hidden the guns, he reluctantly admitted that "ef Mars Phil had been hurted" he had done it.

"What did you do with the body?" questioned the justice; "throw it in the river?"

A murmur from the prisoner, which pa.s.sed for a.s.sent, concluded the examination, and the justice, sorely puzzled, committed him to jail to await his trial.

With the early morning, the country people had begun to gather around the courthouse, and when told that the old miscreant had actually confessed to the murder, their innate love of justice gave place to fierce anger; and when the prisoner, gray with terror, bent and tottering, was led forth, he was surrounded by a silent but determined crowd, who, thrusting the sheriffs aside, seized and drove him before them, and had already slipped the noose about his neck, when an inarticulate shout caused the crowd to sway,--a horseman dashed into their midst and proclaimed that both boys were alive. Their disappearance had been explained on that morning by a letter forwarded by hand, which ran as follows:--

On Board the Chieftain.

Dear Uncle,--This afternoon, while hunting in the Vine Ridge woods, Phil's gun went off and wounded him in the side. I was at my wit's end what to do, when I heard the Chieftain blow up the river; so I tore off to the levee, where I was lucky enough to succeed in attracting Captain Smith's attention, who sent off a boat, and we managed to get Phil on board. I wanted Smith to put back to our landing, but he thought the current too strong; and on the whole, I believe it is better for Phil to keep on to Hilton, as it would be impossible to get a doctor at home in this high water. Phil's hurt is not very serious, I hope.

Your dutiful nephew,

Harry Brace.

On the day succeeding Harry's homecoming, he entered the room designated the "study," in which the Squire was usually to be found when indoors.

The room probably owed the name of "study" to a set of _Farmer's Magazines_ which, in all the dignity of expensive bindings, divided the shelf with a rather damaged edition of "The Turf Register," a "Farrier's Manual," a brace of antiquated medical works, and a stack of newspapers. Fishing tackle, a cupping apparatus, a set of engineering instruments, half a dozen ears of extra fine seed corn, medicine scales, and a huge cotton stock filled the rest of the bookcase.

The Squire, seated before a blazing fire, in the lazy comforts of convalescence, with pipe and tobacco at his elbow, presented a not unenviable picture when contrasted with the wintry grayness outside.

Harry, who had been greatly touched by the old hog-feeder's affectionate fidelity, now sought his uncle in order to beg that as a recompense he might be given his freedom.

"Freedom!" exclaimed the Squire; "why, confound it, my dear boy, what would he do with freedom, if he had it?"

"I think he would like it," Harry murmured, a little sheepishly.

"Why, he's as free as air now; a deuced sight freer than I am."

Nevertheless Harry gained his point, and though the Squire growled, "You young jackanapes, you've robbed me of the best hog-feeder on the river," still he was evidently pleased, and in the evening old Jerry was sent for.

When, in answer to the summons, Jerry presented himself at the study door, his master said to him, with a stateliness fitted to the occasion:--

"Jerry, I have sent for you to tell you that your young master here, as a reward for your fidelity, desires to give you your freedom."

Here the Squire paused, and Jerry, not knowing what else to say, said, "Yes, Marster."

Harry, standing by, was feeling rather wrought up, while the Squire, also somewhat excited, continued:--

"I will give you a house in the free settlement, out in the slashes, and your young master will always take care of you."

Another rather disconcerting pause was broken by a second "Yes, Marster;" and the old man, picking up his hat, shuffled out.

The Squire glanced at Harry with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but the boy's face expressed such blank disappointment that he took pity upon him, and, picking up a newspaper, dismissed the matter.

Upon the following evening a low knock was heard at the study door, then a fumbling at the latch, and old Jerry once more stood upon the threshold.

"Well, old man, what is it now?" his master asked kindly. "Come, out with it!" he repeated, as the old man, with a feeble grin, stood helplessly fingering his hat. "What's the matter?"

And old Jerry, slowly scratching his head, made answer:--

"Thank, Marster; I's come to ax Marster what I done to 'splease Mars?"

"Displease me! Why, what has put that notion into your head?"

"I dunno, Mars, what I's done, but I's skeared Mars mout be set agin me, 'cause he say he gwine sen' me offen de plantation."

Then Harry explained that he was to be set free, and eagerly enlarged upon the delights of liberty. The hog-feeder listened, but was unmoved: he obstinately declined to accept his freedom, his plea being that "the varments" would "'stroy up his creeturs" if he were not there to look after them.

"De black sow, she got a fine litter o' pigs now, an' de foxes is a'ter 'em de blessed time."

After this no more could be urged, and Jerry, sc.r.a.ping his foot, went out with a mind full of content.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] As this is a true tale of an old-time plantation negro, I think it but fair to state that he had a "chist" full of good clothes; but, with a parsimony not uncommon among his race, he preferred to protect his feet with old bits of blanket, instead of using the excellent home-knit woollen socks which lay snugly hidden away in his "chist;"

and it was the same feeling which caused him to wrap himself now into an old garment made up of patches, although three good ones lay snugly folded away in the same chest.

THE JUNIOR RESERVE

It was in the early summer of 1864 that the family at Swan Manor was thrown off its balance by the calling out of "The Junior Reserves."

That unfledged boys, and among them their own little smooth-cheeked Billy, should be called upon to fill up the thinned and broken ranks of the Southern army filled their hearts with dismay. The old Squire, with bushy brows beetling over his eyes, sat in grief too deep for words, a prey to the darkest forebodings. Miss Jemima had wept until her eyes were mere nothings, while her nose, coming gallantly to the front, had a.s.sumed an undue prominence. Kate, with her pretty lips drawn to keep down the rising sobs, tried all in vain to bestow upon her twin brother bright looks and smiles, ever before so ready and spontaneous. In the early secession days it had seemed such fun to ride to dress parade and toss bouquets to the laughing "boys in gray," while all the world played Dixie!

"Away down South in Dixie."

How she and Billy had whispered and plotted, and how great the triumph when together they climbed the gate-post and, after much toil, successfully planted their little red and white flag! But now, alas!

all was changed,--they were fast getting to be grown-up people, and now her own dear Billy must go to help drive the Yankees out of Dixie.

As for Billy himself, a suppressed but exultant grin shone upon his face, a trifle deprecating when in the presence of his grandfather or his tearful Aunt Jemima, but very jubilant despite these drawbacks. In truth this junior reserve was only too pleased to exchange the Latin grammar for the musket, and little cared he for prospective hardships, provided school were not among them.

In the few busy days before the departure, Kate followed Billy's footsteps, trying in vain to share his elation. "Good gracious, Kate," he would exclaim, when he discovered her furtively wiping her eyes with her little damp ball of a pocket handkerchief, "don't be such a little goose; why, what would you have a fellow do? I had no idea that you were that sort of a girl." Then, as between laughing and crying her face contorted itself into a sort of spasmodic grin, he would say: "Now that's right, that's the way to do, if you'll just cheer up, I'll be all right; the Yankees'll not bother me much, you bet."

At the request of Serena (Billy's former nurse) her boy Cy was chosen to accompany his young master as body servant, one of his chief recommendations being that, naturally "skeary," he would be a safe companion; also, as his mother proudly averred, he was the fastest runner upon the plantation.

It was upon a golden evening in June that little Billy bade farewell to his home, Miss Jemima and Kate going with him to the little wayside station. Cy, gotten up in great style, followed, while the rear was brought up by a motley procession,--all eager for the honor of carrying some of the belongings. The Squire, with Don the old Irish setter, stood in the doorway until Billy pa.s.sed out of sight; then the two together, the old man and the old dog, went back into the silent house.

The path to the station wound its way through a field of ripening wheat, from whence the clear whistle of a partridge smote sharply though the fervid air. Billy paused, and, pointing to a tangle of blackberry, exclaimed: "There's a nest there as sure as shooting, and I'll go there to-mor--" A quick catching of the breath cut short the unfinished words, and the boy, with lips slightly drawn, quickened his pace. Kate, choking down her sobs, held his hand in her tight clasp, as she kept pace with his hurried step. Miss Jemima, steadying her voice, remarked with a sprightly air that there would be fine shooting when he should come back in the autumn. Then the little station came into view, looking very empty and deserted; two men loading a flat car were the only living objects to be seen. They paused in their work to greet Billy, and ask where he was off to. It seemed so strange a thing to Kate that all the world did not know.