Chapter 16

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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

Recollections of sunny days in the cotton-fields, with the men and women cramming the white bursting pods into baskets as they laughed and chattered together, and every now and then burst into some song or chorus, their natural light-heartedness making them, if well treated, forget the bonds from which they suffered. Of those many days in the hot glow, where the men were busy with great chopping-knives cutting down the tall, towering canes ready to be piled high in the mule-carts and borne off to the crushing-mills.

For as time went on the visit of the slave schooner was repeated again and again, and the settlers brought more land under cultivation, and the place grew more busy week by week.

But at home all remained the same, only that by the help of Hannibal our garden increased in beauty and productiveness to a wonderful extent, and Pomp and I revelled in the abundance of the fruit.

I used to look at the boy and his father, and wonder how it was possible for them to have settled down so contentedly. But they had, and it did not seem to me that they had a single thought of the past, so light and easy-going they were.

But I misjudged them, as time proved.

I was merry and lively enough in those days, never happier than when playing Morgan some trick to arouse his wrath; but I was the perfection of quietness compared to Pomp, who was more like a monkey in his antics than a boy; and his father, the morose-looking, gloomy slave that he had been, seemed to have grown as full of life and fun as his son.

I don't think that there was anything I could have asked that pair that they would not have done. If I expressed a wish to have a pair of young squirrels for pets, they were sure to be obtained, just as the raccoon was, and the woodchuck. If I wished to fish, the baits were ready and the boat cleaned out; while if I told Hannibal I wanted him to come and row for me, his black face shone with pleasure, and he would toil on in the hot sun, hour after hour, with the oars, evidently sharing my delight whenever I caught a fish.

I remember one day when my father had gone across to the settlement on some business, taking Morgan with him--I think it was to see and select from some fruit-trees and seeds which had been brought over from the old country--that I sat in our room, busy over the study which I had promised to have done by the time of my father's return.

As I sat there I glanced out of the window from time to time to see Hannibal toiling away with his hoe, in a great perspiration which glistened in the sun, but evidently supremely happy, as he chattered away to Pomp, who was also supposed to be working hard, but only at preserving his position as he squatted on the top of a post with his arms about his knees, and his hoe laid across his head, perfectly balanced.

I laughed to myself, and then went on with my work, a piece of Latin translation, for my father used to say, "There is nothing to prevent you being a gentleman, my boy, even if we do live out in the wilds."

All at once I heard Sarah's quick step, as she went out of the place, and directly after she was busy over something.

Carelessly enough I looked up, and saw that she was beating and brushing my father's uniform, previous to hanging it over a rail, so as to guard it from decay by exposure to the sun.

I sat looking at the bright scarlet and gold lace, and saw that she had brought out the cap too. Then I went on with my work again, finished it, and with a sigh of satisfaction put all away, thinking that I would go down to the pool and have a bathe.

The idea seemed good, and I stepped out, thinking what a patient, industrious, careful woman Sarah was, and seeing that she must have fetched is the uniform again, and put it away.

I went through the fence into the garden, meaning to make Pomp go with me, but he was no longer perched on the stump, one of the many left when the garden was made; and on looking round for Hannibal to ask where the boy had gone, I found he too had left his work.

"Hasn't finished," I said to myself, for the man's hoe was leaning against the tree.

Carelessly enough, I strolled on down to the bottom of the garden, looking at the alligator's great grinning jaws as I went by, and out at the end, to see if the pair were in the little hut that had been built for their use, and a laugh which I heard as I drew nearer told me that I was right as far as Hannibal was concerned, while a few excited words which I could not make out proved that Pomp was there as well.

"What are they doing?" I thought to myself; and with the idea of giving them a surprise, I did not go up to the door, but turned off, walked round to the back, and parting the trees by whose leaves the place was shadowed, I reached the little square window at the rear of the house, and stood looking in, hardly knowing which to do--be furiously angry, or burst out laughing.

For the moment I did neither, but stood gazing in unseen. There to my left was Pomp, both his eyes twinkling with delight, squatting on the floor, and holding his knees, his favourite attitude, while his thick lips were drawn back from his milky-white teeth, from between which came a low, half-hissing, half-humming noise evidently indicative of his satisfaction, and in its way resembling the purring of a cat.

To my right, slowly walking up and down, with a grave display of dignity that was most ludicrous, was Hannibal, his head erect, eyes very wide open, and arms held firmly to his sides, a position that he must have imitated from seeing some of the drilling preparations going on at the settlement, and kept up ever since the scare produced by the coming of the Indians and the Spaniards.

The reason for this attitudinising and parading was plain the moment I appeared at the window and grasped the situation; for it was clear enough--Pomp had seen the gay uniform airing upon the rail, had annexed it, and carried it off to the hut, probably with his father as an abettor, in what could only have been meant for a loan; and he had followed the boy in, and possibly with his assistance put on the clothes, which fitted him fairly well; but his appearance was not perfect.

For there over the white-faced scarlet coat was the shiny black face, surmounted by the military cap worn wrong way foremost, while the breeches were unbuttoned at the knee, and the leggings were not there, only Hannibal's black legs, and below them his dusty toes, which spread out far from each other, and worked about in a way most absurd.

But the most absurd thing of all was the aspect of satisfied dignity in the man's countenance. It was as if he were supremely happy and contented with himself, the clothes having evidently raised him enormously in his own estimation.

"Now what shall I do?" I thought; "go in and scold them both, or wait and see if they put the things back?"

I was still hesitating and thinking how angry my father would be, when I found suddenly that there would be no need for me to speak and upset the equanimity of the happy pair, for all at once I heard a loud exclamation from the direction of the house, where Sarah had just come out to fetch in the uniform; and directly after, she jumped at the right conclusion, and made the place echo with the cry of "Pompey!"

The effect was wondrous.

The boy seemed for the moment turned to stone; his jaw fell, and he stared at his father, whose face seemed to grow ashy, and from whose aspect all the dignity had vanished in an instant.

Then, quick as some wild animal, Pomp sprang at his father, the shock with which he struck him in the chest causing the hat to fall off back on to the floor as he tore at the buttons to get the coat off.

Hannibal, with his fingers shaking and twitching, helped all he could, and hindered more, while I stood smothering my laughter and waiting to see the end of the comedy.

Those garments were dragged off doubtlessly much more quickly than they were put on, and as soon as they were huddled together, father and son stood listening to Sarah's voice, their eyes starting, and the perspiration standing in great drops upon their faces.

"What will they do next?" I said to myself.

Apparently they had no plans, for Hannibal looked reproachfully at his son and shook his head at him, his lips moving, and in a low, husky voice he said--

"Whatebber will I do!"

A way out of the difficulty seemed to come to the younger black, for he suddenly darted at the hat, picked it up, and dabbed it down on the bundle of white and scarlet clothes. Then, whispering a few words to his father--who seemed to be hanging back but to give way at last--the boy ran to the door, dropped down on all fours so as to be hidden by the trees from the house, and glided off almost as rapidly as some four-legged animal.

"The young coward, to run away like that," I said to myself, as another loud cry of "Pompey, Pompey! Where are you?" came from the front of the house.

"Poor old Hannibal!" I thought to myself, as I saw the utterly cowed object before me, so strangely contrasted with the dignified being a short time back in uniform, that I could hardly restrain my merriment.

But I did not laugh out, for I was sorry for the poor fellow, and tried to think of some way of extricating him from his difficulty, as he stood there with the uniform huddled up in his arms.

Somehow no idea came, only a feeling of anger against the cowardly young scoundrel of a boy, who had left his father in the lurch.

"If it was only he," I said to myself, "I'd glory in seeing old Sarah pull his ears, a mischievous young dog!"

But there was Hannibal before me, and whenever I looked in the poor fellow's face I never could help a feeling of respectful liking for the unhappy slave whom I had seen lying half dead upon the bank of the stream when we first brought him ashore.

Then with Sarah's voice still heard at intervals raging and storming, I strove to think of a plan to get the poor fellow out of his hobble, while at the same time, in a confused way, the scene on the bank kept coming back, and with it thoughts of how the boy had been ready to fight for his father then, while now he had taken to his heels and fled.

"I don't know what to do," I said at last to myself, as I felt that our civilising had spoiled Pomp. "To go and talk to her, and tell her not to make a fuss."

"Pompey! Pompey!" rang out from close by now, and Hannibal let fall the uniform, and clasped his hands.

It was evident that Sarah was coming to see if the boy was in the hut, and there was nothing for it but to bear the blame.

"Pompey! Do you hear me?"

"A--y--ou," came from right the other side of the house. "You call a me, missie Sarah?"

"Oh, there you are, are you?" she cried; and as I peeped through the trees, I saw her turn sharply round and hurry back, talking volubly the while. Then she called again--

"Pompey!"

"Yes, missie."

"Come here, sir."

"You call a me, missie?"

"Yes, you know I called you. Where are you?"

"Hey--oh--hi--ho! Hey oh--hi oh! Ally olly hi--oh--olly olly hi!" came in musical tones from the other side of the house; and as I peeped once more through the windows I saw Hannibal's bent back, as he stooped and picked up the clothes, brushed off some dust, and then with them held all ready and his face working with excitement, he crept to the door.

"Pompey, do you hear me?" cried Sarah, who was gone up now to the house.

"Hey--oh--hi--oh! Yes, missie, you call a me?" came from a little farther away.

"Do you hear what I say, sir?"

"Yes, missie."

"Then come here directly."

"Ole massa go along, an' Massa George a 'top alonga."

"Pompey!"

"Yes, missie; you call a me?"

"Oh!" cried Sarah, fiercely, "just wait till I get hold of you, sir;" and she ran off down the path at the other side of the house, shouting for the boy, who kept on answering, and, as I realised now, purposely leading her farther and farther away to give his father time.

For, stooping low down, and with wonderful speed and agility, Hannibal, who had crept out of the hut, suddenly darted into and down the garden, and as I followed, keeping well hidden among the trees, I saw him reach the front of the house, shake out the uniform, hang coat and breeches on the rail, stick the cap on the end, and dart off away in another direction, so to reach the path leading into the forest on the way to the stream.

I ached with my efforts to keep down my laughter, as I saw him scud off, glad at heart though, all the same, for, poor fellow, he had escaped. Then all at once my admiration for Pomp increased to a wonderful degree, for I heard a howl from the other side of the house, the sound of blows, heavy ones too; and as Pomp shrieked and howled, it was evident that Sarah was cuffing him tremendously.

Her voice grew louder every moment, so did Pomp's cries and protestations, till I could hear every word from my hiding-place, thoroughly enjoying of course the punishment that had fallen on the boy, while delighted by his ruse to get the clothes back and save his father.

"Oh don't, missie; don't whop a poor lil nigger," came loudly.

"You mischievous--(_bang_!)--young--(_bang_!)--Where are those clothes?"

"No, haven't got 'em, missie; no, haven't got 'em. Oh! _oh_! Oh!"

"Don't tell me your wicked stories, sir. Tell me this moment, or master shall know, and you shall be flogged. You have stolen them away."

"No, no, missie, Pompey nebber 'teal, no, nebber; wouldn't 'teal notin'."

"You--(_bang_!)--have taken--(_bang_!)--those clothes away. Where are they, sir?"

"Oh, don't whip lil nigger, missie. No got no clothes on'y lil cotton drawers, an' lil shirtums," howled Pomp, as he was dragged into sight now, Sarah holding on tightly by one of his ears.

"And I say you have got them, sir. Nobody else could have taken them," cried Sarah. "You wicked black magpie, you! Show me this instant where you have put them, or I don't know what I won't do."

I knew what was coming; it was all plain enough. But no, not quite all; but I did see the _denouement_ to some extent, for, as Sarah dragged the boy forward, I could contain myself no longer.

"Oh don't, missie!" howled the young dog.

"Oh, but I will," cried Sarah. "I put poor master's uniform on that rail to air, and--_Well_!"

"Ha--ha--ha--ha--ha!"

I never laughed louder in my life, as I burst forth into quite a yell, for there stood poor Sarah, with her mouth wide open, staring at the uniform hanging on the rail, and then at Pomp, who looked up at her with his face screwed up in mock agony, but his eyes twinkling with delight.

"Was dem a clothes you gone lose, missie?" he said, innocently; and Sarah panted and looked is my direction. "Dat Massa George brass out alarfin for you whip poor lil nigger nuffin tall."

"Oh--oh--oh!" burst forth Sarah at last, hysterically; "it's a shame--a cruel shame, Master George, to play me such a good-for-nothing trick."

I ceased laughing directly, and my mouth opened now with astonishment at the turn things had taken.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir," cried Sarah; "and here have I been ill-using this poor boy because--Oh, Pompey, Pompey, Pompey!"

She caught him in her arms and gave him a motherly hug, while I stood amongst the trees speechless.

"Missie cry her eyes cos she whip Pompey?"

"Yes, my poor boy," cried Sarah. "But his father shall know. Ah, you may well stop in hiding, sir; it's a shame." Then, ever so much louder, "It's a shame!"

"Don't 'cold Massa George, missie," said Pompey. "Him nebber do nuffin."

"Do nothing, indeed!" cried Sarah. "You come along in with me, and I'm very, very sorry I whipped you."

"Pompey done mind, missie," said the boy, showing his teeth.

"There, you're a very good, forgiving boy," said Sarah, as she caught up the uniform to take it in; "and I wish I could forgive myself."

Then, catching Pomp by the arm, she led him into the house, from which he soon after returned with a corn-cake and half a pot of prime jam of Sarah's own make.

And there I stood all the time thinking seriously among the trees, and unable to make up my mind what to do. If I did not speak, I should bear the blame, and Sarah would remain angry with me. If I told all, poor Hannibal, who had been led into the indulgence in a bit of vanity by his boy, would be in disgrace, and I knew that the poor fellow would feel it keenly. If I did not tell all, that young rascal would triumph in his cunning and deceit, and enjoy letting me have the credit of playing the trick on Sarah.

"I will tell," I said, sharply, as I saw Pomp come out licking his thick lips, and enjoying the jam.

Then I thought of how patiently he had borne Sarah's blows, so as to save his father from getting into disgrace, and that disarmed me again; so that my mind see-sawed about in the most tiresome way, till I gave up in despair, coming to no conclusion, and leaving the matter to settle itself, but determined to give Master Pomp a good thrashing soon, so as to get some satisfaction out of the affair.

"Pomp," I said, half aloud, "Pomp. Yes, I called him Pomp; and after what I saw in the hut I ought to call old Hannibal Vanity. So I will-- Pomp and Vanity. I wish I could make up my mind what to do."

I had something else to think of the next moment, for I heard a shout, and Hannibal himself came running along the path from the stream.

"Hi--hi--Mass' George!" he shouted, breathlessly.

"What's the matter?" I said, running towards the house to get a gun. "Here, quick, come in here."

I strained my eyes as I ran, expecting to see Indians in pursuit of him, but he alone was visible, and he pointed, breathless and panting, in the direction from which he came.

"What is it?" I cried. "What's the matter?"

The answer came in a peculiar, low, hissing, rushing sound, as if a storm were coming through the forest. It ceased directly, and died away in a low, dull roar. _

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