The Broken Sword Part 10

CHAPTER X.

FREEDOM IN FLOWER.

Ned, who was now in his seventy-third year, was drinking to intoxication from the cup the carpet-baggers had lifted to his lips.

He sat in the shade of a mulberry tree near his cabin furbishing his musket for the next company inspection, and stopping now and then to observe the sportive pranks of a domesticated racc.o.o.n.

He heard the irritable voice of his old master calling him from the verandah of the mansion, and observed with gravity to his wife--

"Jes lissen at dat! Golly! to be sho ole Semo dun und furgit dat dis Soufland is konkered und de n.i.g.g.e.rs sot free. Haint dat a purefied scandle? De werry fust munny I gits outen de bero, arter I pays fur de clay-banks und de lan und de grate-house, I'm ergwine to uprare er silum fer dat po stractified creetur way out in de big woods, twixt dis plantashun und de crick, whay he kin call 'Ned, Ned!' und n.o.body's ergwine ter ansur but de blue herrons. Don't yu heer his gwines on, Clarsy? Jeemes' ribber! don't yu heer dat ofe he's dun und swore! Sposin de surcus rider had er heerd dat cuss wurd he flung at me und yu? Golly!

he'd histe him upon de horns o' de haltar twell he riggled same ez er fettered wezul. Dat makes me sez whot I duz erbout dese ole isshu white fokeses. When dare aint no gra.s.s in de c.r.a.p und de smoke house am full o' meat, hits brudder dis und sister dat; but bimeby, when de ole isshu draps inter de trap sot by de scalyhorgs, Jeemes' ribber! 'ligion hez dun und tuck er backsot. Don't yu see? Yu mout sot down whey dat ole man is wid yo teef clinched same ez er hasp in de lock, und he mout be gwine on wid his stractified nonsense, und ef yu didn't spishun nuffin, de fust fing you node hit mout be ole ma.r.s.er dis und ole ma.r.s.er dat, und bimeby yu'd clean clare furgit yosef, dat yu wud, und be totin de grubbin ho und er swettin ober de wire gra.s.s fur de secesh. Don't yu see? Me und yu's jes bleeged ter walk perpendikler ur we's gwine ter be kotched agen lak minks."

"Dat's de troof, hit sho is," interrupted Clarissa with emphasis.

"Und den," Ned continued, "me und yu mout be wusser n.i.g.g.e.rs dan in slabery time."

"Pend upon it dat po ole white man has dun und gon plum strakted. I nebber seed sich shines as he is a cuttin up, by his lone lorn sef, in all my born days, nur yu nudder. Dar he now trapesing furwards and baccards wid boff hans ahin his back und histin up his cote skeerts, und a callin, Ned, Ned! jes lac slabery times. Ef de good Lord puts off his wisitation much furder, und don't take him outen his misry, hes gwine to sa.s.sinate hissef fore de time k.u.ms. 'Ned, Ned; I ses Ned Ned,'" grunted the old freedman mockingly. "Jes as well be callin wun of Joshaway's catfishes outen de crick, ebery bit an grane. Clarsy, don't it mak you sorter solumkolly to see how idjeotick ole mister Semo is a gittin, sens de culled fokes is franksized?"

"It sho do," replied Clarissa with some force of expression.

"Pend erpon it woman, ef we culled genmen don't take holt of dis here plantashun, und de house, und de c.r.a.ps, us is all agwine to suck sorrer, shows you born."

"Dats de Lords truff" exclaimed Clarissa.

"Mr. Semo, he don't look arter nuffin, dat he don't," Ned continued, as he laid his musket on the ground to rub his back against the jamb of the chimney, "De hoppergra.s.ses is avourin de c.r.a.ps, und de cotton is in de gras up to de tip ends, und de dratted, flop-yeared dorgs is jamby et up all de sheepses, und dere is dem hosses in de stable, a whinkering und a whinkering fur a moufful ob fodder, un de cattle beastes is er strayin erway inter de mash, und c.u.m rane er shine, dare is ole Mars Jon asottin dare lak er ole settin turkey hen er callin Ned, Ned; lak dare want no freedum in de lan. Twant fur Miss Alice dat ole man und all tother fokeses on dis here plantashun wud be lak a pa.s.sel ob gizzard shads, plum run down to nuffin."

"Now yu is a woicin it Ned," again exclaimed Clarissa, as she st.i.tched the last feather in Ned's military cap.

"Dare aint but one way fur dat ole man to eber sucker hissef outen his misery und be spectable," said Ned.

"Und hows he agwine tu du dat Ned?" interrupted Clarissa.

"Don't hit stan ter reson dat ef ole Ma.r.s.e Jon wud jine de publikins und go erbout de kentry baccards and furrards a speechifyin fur de franksized woters, dat he wud git a offis? I don't blame ole ma.r.s.er fur fitin arter Mars Harry got kilt. I'd fout tu, fur my onliest boy, but whar Mars Jon dun rong wus kase he didn't stop Mars Harry fore he rid off to Mana.s.sy. Kase Mars Harry he didn't no no better und ole marster did, don't you see de pint, Clarsy?"

"I sho duz," again exclaimed Clarissa.

"Dere is de shuriff, he fit in de war, jess lak Mars Jon dun, and whars dat man now? de high shuriff! Kase he seed what wus agwine tu k.u.m when de bellum fell, und he flopped ober to de publikins, und de fust fing yu noes, dat man is ergwine tu be de pressiden ob de Newnited States."

"Haint yu seed fo now" continued Ned argumentatively, "wun of dem dare lorgerhed turkles drap back into de mud, ergwine furder und furder und er setlin down und downer twell he kivers hisself all epseps his two rad eyes, und bimeby heer c.u.ms erlong ole Joshaway er probing wid de gig, und bimeby he gits his konfedence, und den he flings him on de back und tells him rite saft lak, 'please stay dar twell he c.u.ms back ergin;'

well den de skalyhorgs day dun und got deyselves skotched in de offusses jes lak dat ar turkle, und de fust fing yu nose ef ole Mars Jon haint ergwine to flop ur nuffin heer c.u.ms erlong ole Jeff Davis, de secesh man, und ole Mars Jon er probin wid dare ole debbil fork, und bimeby day flings dem publekins on de back und tells dem to stay rite dar twell day c.u.ms back. Don't yu see; und den de fat is dun und flung in de fire und de bellyun is dun un riz ergin."

"Ole Mars Jon ain't agwine to flop no whers, dat he aint," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Clarissa.

"Den he aint agwine tu git no offis nudder," rejoined Ned, quite seriously and relapsed into silence.

"Ned, whats yu agwine tu du wid yosef dis arternoon?" she asked.

"Me" asked Ned, "Ise agwine tu scotch mysef on dis here plank fur a nap, dats what."

"Whats yu gwine to do," he asked.

"Me," asked Clarissa, "I'm agwine tu slabe fur er nocount free n.i.g.g.e.r, lak yu, jess lak I has ben doin fur forty yers, dats what."

"No count free n.i.g.g.e.r hay! dats a sin to yu Clarsy, who keeps dat ar pot bilin?"

"Bilin" she asked, in disgust, "Sposin yu lift dat ar led often dat pot an see whats a bilin, taint nuffin yu fotched home, I tells yu dat."

Ned distrustfully advanced to the fire place and lifted the top from the pot and sank back with a groan, into an old bottomless chair.

"What do ail you, Ned?" asked Clarissa, laughingly.

"Lors a ma.s.sy, I wudn't a had yu projjeck wid me dat ar fashun fur a hundred dollars. I wus skert tu ax yu what yu had in dare, und I kep a studdin and a studdin, und I kep tryin to smel sum yerbs or udder ur snuffin an er snuffin an er snuffin, und I kep listenin fur yu to say 'Ned, lift dat bilin pot offen de farr wid dem yurbs und horg meat; hit ar sho dun by dis time', und Bress de Lord, it haint nuffin ceptin er ole kalliker skeert; dat dar mistake is wurf a hundred dollars. Jess as well flung a hundred dollars outen my pocket into de fire, as to gib me dat ar set back."

"A hundred dollars," mockingly repeated Clarissa, "How much money has yu had sence de belyun dun fell?"

"Me?" asked Ned.

"Yes, you, dats who, how many cents yu had most fo yer sence freedum c.u.m in de lan, und yu is as ragged as a settin pefowell."

"Nebber mind," said Ned, "I'm ergwine to git forty akers ob dis here plantashun, und maby de grate house flung in, und I'm gwine to git de peertest mule on de hill, und when I flings de whoop und pulls de ribbuns, yu is ergwine to see a yerthshake."

"Ugh, Ugh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Clarissa, "I mout, und den agen I moutent. I sees yu a flinging de whoop now, but taint ober nary wun ob ole Mars Jon's mules, dat it taint. I seed a pa.s.sel ob n.i.g.g.e.rs tother day, jess lak yu, a flingin de whup und a pullin de ribbuns, but twas in de conwic camp jess whar yus agwine to be fo de hoppergra.s.ses wours ole Mar's Jon's c.r.a.p. Dars yer a stretcht out on dat plank in de brilin sun, lak wun ob dem streked lizzards on de wurm ob de fense, wid nary a moufful ob wittles in de house, high nur lo. c.u.m here an see who dat is agwine long yander ercross de medder in de hot brilin sun, wid her bonnit skeerts lak de wings ob a white hearon, a floppin backards an furards, haint dat Miss Alice?"

Ned raised his hand to shield his eyes from the hot glaring sun as he observed, "Tain't n.o.body else. Ef dat ar white gal don't hab de tarryfyin feber ur de brownskeeters, den I haint no doctor."

"I wunder whar dat ar gal is ergwine to here at twel erclock in de day, und de July flies er farely deefnin de fokeses wid der racket?" asked Clarissa.

"Lordy! Lordy! Clarsy," exclaimed Ned, "ef we uns only hed sum ob dem gud wittles Miss Alice got in dat basket, I wudn't be in narry grane ob a hurry fur dem forty akers ob lan und de mule nudder, wud yu?"

"Mout hab had gud wittles all dis time ef yu hadn't ben sich er flambergastered fule. Yu und Joshaway er tarnally spasheating erbout hopperrattucks und pianny fortys und de freedmun's bero und de conwenshun und de miluntary, und bress de Lord nary wun ob yu's seed a hunk o' meat ur a dust o' flour sense freedum c.u.m in de lan, und boff ob yu luks dis werry minit lak perishin conwicks, ur de sutler's mules turned out to gra.s.s. Neber herd dat yungun open her mouf agin enybody in my life, white er black. Ef yu axes her fer enyfing, she is er smolin de butifulist smile all de bressed time, und ef de cullud fokeses' chillun is er hongry she feeds dem wid la.s.ses and homny und gud truck twell dey is fitten ter pop open; und when dey is sick, she is jes lak er hark angel, und bress Gord, dat ar gal is ergwine tu hab er golen krown, und er harp too, und gole slippers, when her hed is lade low; und ef she goes fust I'm ergwine ter keep her grabe kivered wid de butifulist flowers in ole missus' flower garden." And Clarissa, overburdened with the tumult of her tender soul, began to sob and cry.

"Hit nachully tares my ole hart strings outen my body to sen her dat wurd; kase yu nose, Ned, dat Miss Alice's hans is tu swete und tender tu cut de wud fur de kitchen und lif dem hebby pots in dis yer bilin sun.

Ef I had my chusin I wudn't gib wun stran ob her golen hare fur all de freedum in de lan, und ole Linc.u.m frowed in, dat I wudn't."

Clarissa could maintain her equilibrium whenever Ned expatiated upon matters, persons and events unconnected with her young mistress, but every chord of feeling in her black bosom was instantly vibrant with emotion if anything in disparagement of her was spoken.

Dear, dear child! She was now oblivious to all that was pa.s.sing in the little cabin.

There she goes, singing a sweet lullaby, on her mission of love, moving along in the sunshine that encircles her as with a magic zone of glory.

The little daisies lift up their heads to laugh as they whisper to each other, "There she goes, our little sweetheart!" And an old woman essaying to free herself from the fetters of the tyrant Death at the other end of the line is whispering, "Here she comes, my darling!" Her great, sympathetic nature, whose capacity was enlarged to embrace all the poor, white and black, made the black cruel heart of Aleck, even, unwittingly to relent after he had torn her fair face with the thorn bush in the meadow.

When the paralytic, Alexander MacLaren, died twelve months ago, he bequeathed a redundance of squalor and misery to his widow, and now death in slouching strides was coming toward her little hut beyond the meadow; coming as if unwilling to take away the old friend of sweet Alice; coming, not like the swift cruel messenger, but languidly, even dubiously; halting to ask if his commission would permit him to spare her yet a little while for Alice's sake. There was a footfall upon the door block; there was the low voice from within, "Come in, dearie," and Alice and a flood of sunshine entered together.

"My sweet bairn," the old lady exclaimed, in the language of the highlands, "how you do gladden my auld een! Let me kiss you, my la.s.sie, ond touch your bonnie hair with my auld stiffened fingers. I want to feel your presence ivery minute."