CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
HESTER AND HER FATHER SEVERELY TESTED.
The very next day, accordingly, Hester Sommers and her friend salliedforth to present Hugh Sommers with a couple of biscuits!
It was arranged that the two girls should carry baskets of fruit ontheir heads, and that Hester should have the biscuits conveniently inher right hand, so as to be able to drop them into her father's lapwithout stopping or even checking her pace as they passed.
Of course, Hester was by this time thoroughly alive to the danger of herintended proceedings, both to herself and her father, and was firmlyresolved to restrain her feelings. Nevertheless, she could not helptrembling when she came in sight of the gang, with which her fatherworked.
Sally observed this and grasped her by the arm.
"Geo'giana," she said, "if you gibs way, or speaks, or trembles, orbusts up in any way, I grips you by de neck, as I once did before, an'shobes you along wid scolds and whacks--so you look out!"
"Anxiety for my darling father will be a much more powerful restraint,Sally, than your threats," replied the poor girl.
Nevertheless, the threat was not without its effect, for it showedHester that she must have been on the point of giving way, and impressedon her more than ever the necessity of self-restraint.
"W'ich am him? I don't see him," said the negress as they advanced.
"There he is, don't you see, just before us," replied Hester, in a low,hurried voice.
"No, I's growin' blind, I t'ink."
"There--look! by himself, on the stone. He seems always to sit on thesame spot at dinner-time."
"Oh yes, I sees. Now you go on--stiddy. Mind what you's about!"
With a brief prayer for help to control herself, Hester went straight towhere her father sat. He was languidly chewing a piece of theregulation black bread at the time, and looked up at her with the vacantindifference born of despair.
The desire to fall on his neck and kiss him was, need we say, almostirresistible, but the poor girl had received strength for the duty inhand. She went close to him--even brushed past him--and dropped thebiscuits into his lap.
At first the poor man was so astonished that he gazed after the retiringfigure and made no effort to conceal this unexpected addition to hismeal. Fortunately, his wits revived before any of the guards observedhim. He slid the biscuits into his shirt bosom with conjurer-likefacility, and at the same moment broke off a large bit of one, which hedevoured with unwonted satisfaction. The addition did not indeedfurnish the unfortunate slave with a full meal, but it at least tendedtowards that desirable end, and sent him to work with a full heart,because of the assurance that there was in the city, at all events, onehuman being--and that being, strange to say, a negress!--who pitied himin his forlorn condition.
During the remainder of that day Hugh Sommers almost forgot his toils inconsequence of his mind being so thoroughly taken up with meditation onthe wonderful incident. At night, although wearied, almost worn out,and anxious to sleep, he found it impossible to rest in the dismalBagnio. It chanced that he occupied the cell which had formerly beenapportioned to George Foster on the occasion of his first visit to thatcheerless prison, and his next neighbour was the despairing Frenchmanwho had given such poor comfort to the middy in his distress. Findingthat this Frenchman spoke English so well, and that they worked togetherin the same gang during the day, Hugh Sommers had struck up anacquaintance with him, which, after they had spent some weeks togetherin toiling by day and groaning side by side at night, ripened into acurious sort of growling friendship.
This friendship began with a quarrel. The night in which they werefirst placed in neighbouring cells, or niches, followed a day in whichSommers had received an application of the bastinado, and been put intoirons for fierce rebellion. Being a man of strong emotions, he hadgroaned a little as he lay trying to sleep in spite of his sufferingfeet. Failing of his purpose, he took to thinking about Hester, and thegroans which had been but feeble for himself became more intense on heraccount.
"Can you not stop that noise?" growled the irate Frenchman, who was keptawake by it.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, friend," said Sommers gently, for he wasreally an unselfish man; "but if you knew all I've had to suffer youwould excuse me."
"Oh, _I_ know what you have had to suffer!" said his comrade testily."I saw you get the bastinado; I've had it often myself, but--it isbearable!"
"It's not that, man!" returned the Englishman, with a touch ofindignation. "If I had nothing to worry me but the pain of my feet I'dhave been asleep by now. I have worse things to groan about than youcan guess, maybe."
"Well, well, monsieur," said the Frenchman, in a resigned tone, as heraised himself on one elbow and leaned his back against the stone wall,"since you have driven sleep from my eyes, perhaps you will giveemployment to my ears, by telling me for what it is that you groan?"
There was something so peculiar in the tone and manner in which this wassaid--so cool and off-hand, yet withal so kind--that Sommers at onceagreed.
"I'll do it," he said, "if you will treat me to the same thing inreturn. Fair exchange! You see, I am by profession a merchant, andmust have value for what I give."
And thus on that night the two unfortunates had exchanged confidences,and formed the friendship to which we have referred.
To this man, then--whose name was Edouard Laronde--Sommers related theincident that had occurred that day during the noontide period of rest.
"It is strange. I know not what to think," said Laronde, when hisfriend concluded. "If it had been a white girl I could have understoodthat it might be your daughter in disguise, though even in this casethere would have been several reasons against the theory, for, in thefirst place, you tell me that your daughter--your Hester--is verypretty, and no pretty English girl could go about this city in anydisguise without being discovered at once. Now you tell me that thisgirl was black--a negress?"
"Ay, as black as a coal," responded the merchant.
"Well, if, as you say, your Hester is pretty--"
"Pretty, man! She's not pretty," interrupted the Englishmanimpatiently; "I tell you she is beautiful!"
"Of course, I understand," returned the other, with a smile that thedarkness of the place concealed, "I should have said beautiful! Well,thick lips and flat nose and high cheek-bones and woolly hair are, youknow, incompatible with beauty as understood by Englishmen--"
"Or Frenchmen either," added Sommers. "That's quite true, Laronde,though I must confess that I paid no attention to her face when she wasapproaching me, and after she dropped the biscuits in my lap she was sofar past that I only saw a bit of her black cheek and her back, whichlatter, you know, was enveloped from head to foot in that loose bluecotton thing which does not tell much about the wearer."
"True, true," returned the Frenchman; "and, after all, even if thegirl's features had not been negro-like, you could not have been surethat it was her, for some of the blacks who come from the interior ofAfrica have features quite as classical as our own."
"Laronde," said the merchant impressively, "I wonder to hear you, whohave a daughter of your own, suggest that I could fail to recognise myHester in any disguise. Why, if she were to paint her face scarlet andher nose pea-green I'd see through it by the beautiful shape of thefeatures and the sweet expression of her face."
"Forgive me, Monsieur Sommers, I doubt not that you would. As to yourreference to _my_ daughter, you forget that she was a little child whenI last saw her, so I have no experience of a father's powers ofpenetrating disguises."
Laronde sighed deeply at this point, and then hurriedly continued, as ifto prevent further reference to his own sorrows.
"It is possible, however," he said, "that she may pass you againto-morrow, and so give you another opportunity of seeing her features.But let me ask, my friend, what will you do if you discover that she_is_ your Hester?"
"Do?" exclaimed the merchant, with an energetic action that caused hisfett
ers to rattle. "I--I--I'll--well--I don't know what I'll do!"
"Of course you don't!" returned Laronde, with something of the oldcynicism in his tone. "You Englishmen are always so cock-sure--as youexpress it--of success that you make no provision for defeat or failure.It may seem very heroic, but it is mere pride and folly. Now, if youwill take a real friend's advice, you will go out to-morrow with thedetermination to curb yourself and refrain from taking any noticewhatever of this girl, whether she turns out to be your daughter or not,and leave her to work out her plan, for you may be quite sure she hassome end in view. Just consider what would be the consequence of yourgiving way to your feelings and embracing her. You would by so doingexpose her disguise, cause her to be taken up and sent to the harem ofsome one of the notables, and get heavier irons put on yourself, besidesanother touch, perhaps, of the bastinado. Be wise, and consider wellwhat you intend to do."
"Thank you, friend, for your warning. It is well timed. If you had notspoken I would certainly have gone forth to-morrow unprepared."
"But what is your preparation? What will you do?" persisted theFrenchman.
"What _can_ I do?" replied Sommers. "Have you not just shown me that Iam utterly helpless? In such a case there is only one course left--namely, to go to Him who can succour the helpless. I will ask counselof God. The pride you have referred to I admit, though it is by nomeans confined to my own countrymen! Too long have I given way to it,and acted independently of my Maker. Perhaps God sent me here toconvince me of my sin and helplessness."
"There is no God. I do not believe in a God," said Laronde calmly.
"Why not?" asked Sommers, in surprise.
"Because," replied Laronde bitterly, "if there was a God He could notstand by and see me suffering such prolonged and awful misery."
"If, instead of misery, you had been placed during the last twelve yearsin supreme felicity, would you have believed in a God?" asked Sommers.
Laronde was silent. He saw that the reason which he had given fordisbelief was untenable, and he was too straightforward to quibble aboutit.
"I don't know," he said at last angrily. "No doubt there are hundredsof men in happy and favourable circumstances who say, as I do, that theydon't believe in a God. I don't know. All I do know is that I amsupremely miserable!"
"Now you are reasonable," returned the merchant, "for you talk of whatyou do know, and you admit that in regard to God you `don't know,' butyou began by stating that `there is no God.' Ah, my friend, Isympathise with you in your terrible sorrow, even as you havesympathised with me in mine, but don't let us give way to despair andcast the only Refuge that remains to us behind our backs. I will notask you to join me in praying to One, in whom you say you do notbelieve, but I will pray _for_ you."
Hugh Sommers got upon his knees and then and there--in the dark and dankprison-house--prayed most earnestly for guidance and spiritual light inthe name of Jesus. At first the Frenchman listened with what we maystyle kindly contempt, and then with surprise, for the Englishman drewto the conclusion of his very brief prayer without any mention of hisown name. Just at the close, however, Sommers said, "O God! show to myfriend here that he is wrong, and that Thou art Love."
It was with eager and trembling heart next day that Hugh Sommerswatched, during the noontide meal, for the coming of his mysteriousblack friend, and it was with no less anxiety and trembling of heartthat Hester approached her father at the same hour.
"Now mind how you doos," said the doubtful Sally, as she glanced keenlyat Hester's face. "Mind, I'll hab no marcy on you if you gibs way!"
Hester made no reply, for she was drawing near to her father, and sawthat he was gazing at her with fixed intensity. She raised her heart toGod and received strength to pass without a word or look, dropping thebiscuits as on the previous day. The man, however, proved less capableof self-restraint than the girl, for he could not resist whispering,"Hester!"
The poor girl turned towards him as if by an irresistible impulse, buther black guardian angel was equal to the emergency. Seizing Hester bythe shoulder, she pushed her violently forward, storming at her loudlyas on the former occasion.
"What, you black t'ing! Hab you neber seen slabes before? You nobetter'n de white folk, wastin' ob your purcious time. My! won't youget a whackin' fro' missis w'en you gits home!"
Recovering herself, Hester at once submitted.
At first the poor father was about to start up and run to embrace hischild, as well as to rescue her from her rude companion, but, being whatis termed a "sharp man of business," he received into his mind, as itwere, a flash of light, and sat still. If this flash had been analysedit would probably have produced the following thoughts--"biscuits!kindness! companion a friend! ignorance impossible! violenceunaccountable! a ruse, perhaps! sit still!"
Thought, they say, is swifter than light. At all events, it was swiftenough on the present occasion to prevent the shadow of a suspicionarising in the minds either of slaves or guards, who seemed to be ratheramused at what they fancied was the bad temper of Sally.
Next day the biscuit-dropping was repeated without the scene that hadfollowed, and so wisely was this affair managed by all the partiesconcerned, that it was carried on for several weeks without a hitch.Under the influence of hope and improved fare, Hugh Sommers became somuch brighter in spirits and better in health, and so much moretractable, that his guards at length removed his heavy fetters andallowed him to toil with free limbs, like the majority of the slaves.Hester also became almost cheerful under the wonderful influence ofhope. But Hester and her father were each overwhelmed, more or less, bya wet blanket at that time, and, strange to say, their wet blanketshappened to be their best friends.
In the case of Hester, it was Sally. The more hopeful and cheery Hesterbecame, the more did her black friend shake her woolly head and lookdismal.
"Why, Sally, dear, what's the matter with you?" asked the former oneday, as they sat together in the bower on the roof, after returning fromtheir visit to the slave-gang.
A shake of the girl's head and an unutterable expression in hermagnificent black eyes made Hester quite uneasy.
"Do tell me, Sally. Is there anything the matter with you?"
"De matter wid me? Oh no! Not'ing's neber de matter wid me--'cept whenI eats too much--but it's you an' your fadder I's t'inkin' ob."
"But we are both getting on very well, Sally, are we not? I am quitesafe here, and darling father is growing stronger and fatter every day,thank God! and then our hope is very strong. Why should you beanxious?"
Sally prefaced her reply with one of the professional gasps wherewithshe was wont to bring down the iron pestle.
"Well, now, you white folks am de greatest ijits eber was born. Do yout'ink you'll deliber your fadder from de Moors by feedin' him onbiscuits an' _hope_? What's de end ob all dis to come to? das what Iwant to know. Ob course you can't go on for eber. You sure to becotched at last, and de whole affair'll bust up. You'll be tooked away,an' your fadder'll be t'rowed on de hooks or whacked to deaf. Oh! I'smost mis'rable!"
The poor creature seemed inclined to howl at this point, but sheconstrained herself and didn't.
In the gloom of the cheerless Bagnio, Hugh Sommers found his wet blanketin Edouard Laronde.
"But it is unwise to look only at the bright side of things," said theFrenchman, after sympathising with his friend's joy in having discoveredhis daughter so unexpectedly and in such a curious manner. "No doubt,from her disguise, she must, as you say, be in hiding, and incomparative safety with friends, else she could not be moving so freelyabout this accursed city, but what is to be the end of it all?"
Laronde unconsciously echoed Sally's question to Hester, but HughSommers had not as much to say in reply as his daughter, for he was toowell acquainted with the possibilities of life to suppose that biscuitsand hope would do much towards the "end," although valuable auxiliariesin the meantime.
"I see not the end, Laronde," he said, after a pa
use; "but the end is inthe hands of God, and I will trust Him."
"So is the middle, and so is the beginning, as well as the end,"returned Laronde cynically; "why, then, are you so perplexed and anxiousabout these if the end is, as you seem to think, so sure? Why don't youtrust God all through?"
"I do trust God all through, my friend, but there is this difference--that with the end I have nothing to do save to wait patiently andtrustfully, whereas with the beginning and middle it is my duty to actand energise hopefully."
"But why your anxiety if the whole matter is under safe guidance?"persisted the Frenchman.
"Because, while I am absolutely certain that God will do His part wiselyand well, I am by no means sure that I shall do my part either well orwisely. You forget, Laronde, that we are free agents as well as sinfuland foolish, more or less, so that there is legitimate room for anxiety,which only becomes evil when we give way to it, or when it goes thelength of questioning the love, wisdom, and power of the Creator!"
"All mystery, all mystery, Sommers; you are only theorising about whatyou do not, cannot, know anything. You have no ground for what youhold."
"As you confess never to have studied, or even seriously contemplated,the ground on which I hold it, there is--don't you think?--a slighttouch of presumption on your part in criticising so severely what you donot, cannot, understand? I profess to have _good_ reasons for what Ihold; you profess merely to disbelieve it. Is there not a vastdifference here?"
"Perhaps there is, but I'm too sleepy to see it. Would you oblige me byputting your foot on that centipede? He has made three ineffectualattempts to pass the night under my wing. Make sure work of him.Thanks. Now I will try to sleep. Oh! the weary, heart-sickness of hopedeferred! Good-night, Sommers."
"Good-night."
The Middy and the Moors: An Algerine Story Page 13