Part 3 (1/2)
He almost envied the lot of the laborers, who toiled in the cane-fields.
Though they were meanly clad and coa.r.s.ely fed, they were not subjected to the whims and caprices of a wayward boy. They had nothing to fear but the lash of the driver, and this might be avoided by diligence and care.
And then, with the tears coursing down his pale cheeks, he realized that the field-hands who labored beneath the eye of the overseer and the driver were better off and happier than he was.
”What can I do!” murmured he, as he rose from the ground, and walked back to the shade of the trees. ”If I resist, I shall be whipped; and I cannot endure this life. It is killing me.”
”I will run away!” said he, as he sat down upon a stump at some distance from the Point. ”Where shall I go?”
He shuddered as he thought of the rifle of the overseer, and the bloodhounds that would follow upon his track. The free states were far, far away, and he might starve and die in the deep swamps which would be his only hiding place. It was too hopeless a remedy to be adopted, and he was obliged to abandon the thought in despair.
”I will watch and wait,” said he. ”Something will happen one of these days. If I ever go to New Orleans again, I will hide myself in some s.h.i.+p bound to the North. Perhaps Master Archy will travel some time. He may go to Newport, Cape May, or Saratoga, with his father, this season or next, and I shall go with him. I will be patient and submissive--that is what the preacher said we must all do; and if we are in trouble, G.o.d will sooner or later take the burden from our weary spirits. I will be patient and submissive, but I will _watch and wait_.”
WATCH AND WAIT! There was a world of hope and consolation in the idea which the words expressed. He wiped away the tears which had trickled down his blood-stained face. WATCH AND WAIT was the only north star which blazed in the darkened firmament of his existence.
He could watch and wait for months and years, but constant watching and patient waiting would one day reveal the opportunity which should break his bonds, and give him the body and spirit that G.o.d had bestowed upon him as his birthright.
Comforted by these reflections, and inspired by a new and powerful hope, he walked down to the river again. His step was elastic, and in his heart he had forgiven Master Archy. He determined to do all he could to please him; to be patient and submissive even under his wayward and petulant rule. He washed the blood from his face, and tried to wash away the rancor which his master's conduct had kindled in his soul.
Having made his peace with himself, his master, and all mankind, he sat down upon the stump, and took from his pocket a small Testament, which a pedler had dared to sell him for the moderate sum of five dollars. He read, and the blessed words gave him new hope and new courage. He felt that he could bear any thing now; but he was mistaken, for there was an ordeal through which, in a few hours, he was doomed to pa.s.s--an ordeal to which his patience and submission could not reconcile him.
While he was reading, he heard the dip of oars. Restoring the volume to his pocket, he waited the arrival of the boat. It was the barge of Archy; but the young gentleman was not a pa.s.senger. The crew had been sent down by Colonel Raybone to convey him back to the estate.
The blank looks of the crew seemed ominous of disaster. Even the brilliant ivories of the ever-mirthful Cyd were veiled in darkness beneath his ebony cheek. He looked sad and terrified, and before any of the crew had spoken a word, Dandy was fully a.s.sured that a storm was brewing.
”Ma.s.sa Raybone done send us down to fotch you up,” said Cyd, gloomily.
”What's the matter, Cyd?” demanded Dandy, trying to be cheerful in the face of these portending clouds of darkness.
”Ma.s.sa Archy done git a black eye some how or oder, and Ma.s.sa Kun'l frow 'imself into a horrid pa.s.sion. Den he roar and swear jes like an alligator wid a coal o' fire in 'is troat,” replied Cyd, aghast with horror.
”Well, what then?” asked Dandy, with a long breath.
”Den he send for Long Tom.”
”For Long Tom!” gasped Dandy, his cheek paling and his frame quivering with emotion.
”Dat's de truf,” replied Cyd, shaking his head.
”Long Tom” was a tall, stout negro-driver, who did the whipping upon the plantation. He was to be whipped! It was a barbarism to which he had never been subjected, and he was appalled at the thought.
At first, he decided not to return. Even the bloodhounds and the perils of the swamp were less terrible than the whipping-post. But he was unwilling to believe that he was to be subjected to this trying ordeal, and impelled by the resolutions he had made, he at last determined to meet his master, and by a fair representation of the case, with an earnest appeal to Archy, he hoped, and even expected, to escape the punishment.
Taking his place in the boat, he was soon gliding swiftly on his way to the plantation.
CHAPTER V.
THE TRAGEDY AT THE ”DEAD OAK.”