CHAPTER XIX.
HOMEWARD.
The morning broke bright and mellow with the rays of the winter sun,which in Carolina lends the warmth of October to the chills of January,when, with my portmanteau strapped, and my thin overcoat on my arm, Igave my last "God bless you" to the octoroon woman, and turned my facetoward home.
Jim shouted "all ready," the driver cracked his whip, and we were on ourway to Georgetown.
The recent rains had hardened the roads, the bridges were repaired, andwe were whirled rapidly forward, and, at one o'clock, reachedBucksville. There we met a cordial welcome, and remained to dinner. Ourhost pressed us to pass the night at his house, but the Colonel hadbusiness with one of his secession friends residing down the road--mywayside acquaintance, Colonel A----, and desired to stay overnight withhim. At three o'clock, bidding a kindly farewell to Captain B---- and hisexcellent family, we were again on our way.
The sun was just sinking among the western pines, when we turned into abroad avenue, lined with stately old trees, and rode up to the door-wayof the rice-planter. It was a large, square, dingy old house, seated ona gentle knoll, a short half-mile from the river, along whose banksstretched the rice-fields. We entered, and were soon welcomed by itsproprietor.
He received my friend warmly, and gave me a courteous greeting,remarking, when I mentioned that I was homeward bound, that it was wiseto go. "Things are very unsettled; there's no telling what a day maybring forth; feeling is running very high, and a Northern man, whateverhis principles, is not safe here. By-the-way," he added, "did you notmeet with some little obstruction at Conwayboro', on your way up?"
"Yes, I did; a person there ordered me back, but when things began tolook serious, Scipio, the negro whom you saw with me, got me out of thehobble."
"Didn't he tell the gentleman that you were a particular friend of mine,and had met me by appointment at Captain B----'s?" he asked, smiling.
"I believe he did, sir; but I assure you, _I_ said nothing of the kind,and I think the black should not be blamed, under the circumstances."
"Oh, no; I don't blame him. I think he did a smart thing. He might havesaid you were my grandmother, if it would have served you, for that lowfellow is as fractious as the devil, and dead sure on the trigger."
"You are very good, sir," I replied: "how did you hear of it?"
"A day or two afterward, B---- passed here on his way to Georgetown. Ihad been riding out, and happened to be at the head of my avenue whenhe was going by. He stopped, and asked if I knew you. Not knowing, then,the circumstances, I said that I had met you casually at Bucksville, buthad no particular acquaintance with you. He rode on, saying nothingfurther. The next morning, I had occasion to go to Georgetown, and atMr. Fraser's office, accidentally heard that Scip--who is well-known anduniversally liked there--was to have a public whipping that evening.Something prompted me to inquire into it, and I was told that he hadbeen charged by B---- with shielding a well-known abolitionist atConwayboro'--a man who was going through the up-country, distributingsuch damnable publications as the New York _Independent_ and _Tribune_.I knew, of course, it referred to you, and that it wasn't true. I wentto Scip and got the facts, and by stretching the truth a little, finallygot him off. There was a slight discrepancy between my two accounts ofyou" (and here he laughed heartily), "and B----, when we were before theJustice, remarked on it, and came d----d near calling me a liar. It waslucky he didn't, for if he had, he'd have gone to h--l before the placewas hot enough for him."
"I cannot tell you, my dear sir, how grateful I am to you for this. Itwould have pained me more than I can express, if Scip had suffered fordoing a disinterested kindness to me."
Early in the morning we were again on our way, and twelve o'clock foundus seated at a dinner of bacon, corn-bread, and waffles, in the "firsthotel" of Georgetown. The Charleston boat was to leave at three o'clock;and, as soon as dinner was over, I sallied out to find Scip. After ahalf-hour's search I found him on "Shackelford's wharf," engaged inloading a schooner bound for New York with a cargo of cotton andturpentine.
He was delighted to see me, and when I had told him I was going home,and might never see him again, I took his hand warmly in mine, and said:
"Scip, I have heard of the disgrace that was near being put upon you onmy account, and I feel deeply the disinterested service you did to me;now, I _can not_ go away without doing _something_ for you--showing youin _some_ way that I appreciate and _like_ you."
"I like's _you_, massa," he replied, the tears coming to his eyes: "Ituk ter you de bery fuss day I seed you, 'case, I s'pose," and he wrungmy hand till it ached: "you pitied de pore brack man. But you karnt donuffin fur _me_, massa; I doant want nuffin; I doant want ter leab har,'case de Lord dat put me har, arn't willin' I shud gwo. But you kin dosuffin, massa, fur de pore brack man,--an' dat'll be doin' it fur _me_,'case my heart am all in dat. You kin tell dem folks up dar, whar youlib, massa, dat we'm not like de brutes, as dey tink we is. Dat we's gotsouls, an' telligence, an' feelin's, an' am men like demselfs. You kintell 'em, too, massa,--'case you's edication, and kin talk--how de porewite man 'am kep' down har; how he'm ragged, an' starvin', an' ob noaccount, 'case de brack man am a slave. How der chil'ren can't get noschulein', how eben de grow'd up ones doan't know nuffin--not eben somuch as de pore brack slave, 'case de 'stockracy wan't dar votes, ancudn't get 'em ef dey 'low'd 'em larning. Ef your folks know'd all detrufh--ef dey know'd how both de brack an' de pore w'ite man, am on degroun', and can't git up, ob demselfs--dey'd do _suffin'_--dey'd breakde Constertution--dey'd do suffin' ter help us. I doant want no onehurted, I doant want no one wronged; but jess tink ob it, massa, fourmillion ob bracks, and nigh so many pore wites, wid de bressed gospilshinin' down on 'em, an' dey not knowin' on it. All dem--ebry one of'em--made in de image ob de great God, an' dey driven roun', an' 'busedwuss dan de brutes. You's seed dis, massa, wid your own eyes, an' youkin tell 'em on it; an' you _will_ tell 'em on it, massa;" and again hetook my hand while the tears rolled down his cheeks; "an' Scip willbress you fur it, massa; wid his bery lass breaf he'll bress you; an' degood Lord will bress you, too, massa; He will foreber bress you, forHe'm on de side ob de pore, an' de 'flicted: His own book say dat, an'it am true, I knows it, fur I feels it _har_;" and he laid his hand onhis heart, and was silent.
I could not speak for a moment. When I mastered my feelings, I said, "I_will_ do it Scip; as God gives me strength, I _will_."
Reader, I am keeping my word.
Among the Pines; or, South in Secession Time Page 20
