CHAPTER I.
MAUM SALLY'S MANNERS.
"Bress my heart, honey, wha'd you come from?"
It was old "Maum" Sally who uttered this exclamation as she came out ofher kitchen, drying her hands on her apron, and warmly greeting one ofthe three boys who stood just outside the door.
"Is you done come to visit de folks? Well, I do declar'!"
"Now, Maum Sally," replied Ned Cooke, "stop 'declaring' and stop askingme questions till you answer mine. Or, no, you won't do that, so I'llanswer yours first. Where did I come from? Why from Aiken, by way ofCharleston and Hardeeville. Did I come to visit the folks? Well, no, notexactly that. You see, I didn't set out to come here at all. I havespent part of the summer up at Aiken with these two school-mates ofmine, and they were to spend the rest of it with me in Savannah. We wereon our way down there when I got a despatch from father, saying that asyellow fever has broken out there I mustn't come home, but must comedown here to Bluffton and stay with Uncle Edward till frost or schooltime. So we got off the train, hired a man with an ox-cart to bring ourtrunks down, and walked the eighteen miles. The man with the trunks willget here sometime, I suppose. There! I've made a long speech at you.Now, answer my questions, please. Where is Uncle Edward? and where isAunt Helen? and why is the house shut up? and when will they be backagain? and can't you give us something to eat, for we're nearlystarved?"
Ned laughed as he delivered this volley of questions, but Maum Sallyremained perfectly solemn, as she always did. When he finished, shesaid:
"Yaller fever! Bress my heart! It'll be heah nex' thing we knows. Walkedall de way from Hardeeville! an' dis heah hot day too! e'en a'moststarved! Well, I reckon ye is, an' I'll jes mosey roun' heah an' git yousome supper."
It must be explained that Maum Sally, although she lived on the coast ofSouth Carolina, and was called "Maum" instead of "Aunt," was born and"raised," as she would have said, in "Ole Firginny," and her dialect wastherefore somewhat as represented here. The negroes of the coast speak apeculiar jargon, which would be wholly unintelligible to other thanSouth Carolinian readers, even if I could render it faithfully byphonetic spelling.
As Maum Sally ceased speaking, she turned to go into her kitchen, which,as is usual in the South, was a detached building, standing somedistance from the main house.
"But wait, Maum Sally," cried Ned, seizing her hand; "I'm not going tolet you off that way. You haven't answered my questions yet."
"Now, look heah, young Ned," she said, with great solemnity, "does yous'pose Ole Sally was bawn and raised in Ole Firginny for nothin'? I aintforgot my manners nor hospitality, ef I _is_ lived nigh onto twenty-fiveyears in dis heah heathen coast country whah de niggas talks monkeylanguage. I'se a gwine to git you'n your fr'en's--ef you'll interduce'em--some supper, fust an' foremost. Den I'll answer all de questionsyou're a mind to ax, ef you don't git to conundrumin'."
Ned acknowledged Maum Sally's rebuke promptly.
"I did forget my manners," he said, "but you see I was badly flustered.This is my friend Jack Farnsworth, Maum Sally, and this," turning to theother boy, "is Charley Black. Boys, let me make you acquainted with MaumSally, the best cook in South Carolina, or anywhere else, and the bestMaum Sally in the world. She used to give me all sorts of good things toeat out here when I didn't get up to breakfast, and was expected to geton till dinner with a cold bite from the store-room. I'll bet she'llcook us a supper that will make your mouths water, and have it ready bythe time we get the dust out of our eyes."
"Git de dus' out'n de all over you, more like. Heah's de key to debath-house. You jes run down an' take a dip in de salt water, an' dengit inter yer clo'es as fas' as you kin, an' when you's done dat, you'llfin' somethin' to eat awaitin' for you in de piazza. Git, now, quick. EfI'se got to plan somethin' for supper, I'se got to hab my wits about mean' don' want no talkin' boys aroun'."
"It's of no use, boys," said Ned. "I know Maum Sally, and we're notgoing to get a word more out of her till supper is ready, so come on,let's have a plunge. It's all right, anyhow. My uncle and aunt have goneaway for the day somewhere, I suppose, and will be back sometimeto-night. If they don't come, I'll find a way to break into the house.It's my father's, you know, and one of my homes. In fact, I was bornhere. Uncle Edward lives here a good part of the time, because he likesit, and father lives in Savannah a good part of the year, because hedoesn't like it here. Come, let's get a bath."
With that Ned conducted his guests to a pretty little bath-house whichstood out over the water, and was approached by a green bridge. Blufftonabounds in these well-appointed, private bathing-houses, which, withtheir ornamental approaches, add not a little to the beauty of thesingular town, which is scarcely a town at all in the ordinary sense ofthe word, as Ned explained to his companions while they were dressingafter their bath.
"This coast country," he said, "is plagued with country fever."
"What's country fever?" asked Jack Farnsworth.
"It's a very severe and fatal form of bilious fever, which one night'sexposure--or even a few hours' exposure after sunset--brings on."
"Then why did you bring us here?" asked Charley. "Are we to findourselves down with country fever to-morrow morning?"
"No, not at all," replied Ned. "Country fever stays strictly at home. Itnever goes to town; it never visits high ground where there are pines,white sand, and no moss; and it never comes to Bluffton. That's whythere is any Bluffton. All along the coast the planters have theirwinter residences on their plantations, but in the summer they go off tolittle summer villages in the pines to escape the fever. In the regionjust around us, it is so much easier and pleasanter to live here inBluffton that they build permanent residences here and live here all theyear around. There is no trade here, no shops--except a blacksmith shopout on the road--no stores, no any thing except private houses, and theprivate houses are all built pretty nearly alike. Each stands alone in alarge plot of ground, which is filled with trees and shrubs just as allthe streets are. Each house has a piazza running all the way around it,or pretty nearly that, and each has two or three joggling boards."
"What in the world is a joggling board?" asked Charley.
"I'll introduce you when we get back to the house," said Ned.
When the boys returned to the house, Ned's prediction was abundantlyfulfilled. Maum Sally had spread a tempting, if somewhat incongruoussupper in the piazza. There was a piece of cold ham, some fried freshfish, a dish of shrimps stewed with tomatoes, a great platter of ricecooked in the South Carolinian way, and intended for use in lieu ofbread, some boiled okra, roast sweet potatoes, and a pot of steamingcoffee. It was a miscellaneous sort of meal, compounded of breakfast,dinner, and supper in about equal proportions, but it was such a meal asthree healthy boys, who had walked eighteen miles and had then taken asea bath, were not in the least disposed to quarrel with.
"Now, Maum Sally," said Ned, after he had complimented the supper andtaken his seat at the table, "tell me where Uncle Edward and Aunt Helenare, and when they will get back?"
"Ain't ye got no manners at all, young Ned?" asked Sally, with an air ofprofound surprise; she always called the boy "Young Ned" when she wishedto put him in awe of her; "ain't ye got no manners at all, or is youforgot 'em all sence I seed you last? Don' you know your frien's is astarvin'? and here you is a plaguin' me with questions insti'd o'helpin' on 'em. Mind yer manners, young gentleman, an' then I'll answeryer questions."
"All right, Maum Sally," said Ned; "Charley, let me give you some coldham. Jack, help yourself to some fish. There are the shrimps, boys,between you. Maum Sally, pour out some coffee, please. Jack, you'll findthe okra good; here, Charley, let me help you to rice."
Maum Sally, meanwhile, was pouring coffee and filling plates; whensupper was well under way, she stood back a little way, placed her handson her hips, her arms akimbo, and said with the utmost solemnity:
"Seems 's if somebody axed me somethin' or other 'bout de folks when Iwas too busy to ten' to 'em. Ef you'll ax me agin n
ow, I'll beobleeged."
"Yes, upon reflection," said Ned, "I am inclined to think that Iventured to make some inquiry concerning my uncle and aunt. If Iremember correctly, I asked where they are, and at what time they arelikely to return."
"Whah is dey? Well, I don' rightly know, an' I can't say adzac'ly whendey'll be back agin. But I specs deys somewhah out on de sea, an' Is'pose dey'll be back about nex' November."
"What!" cried Ned, in surprise, suspending his attention to supper, andforgetting to maintain his pretence of dignified indifference. "What doyou mean, Maum Sally?"
"Well, what I mean is dis heah. Yo' uncle an' aunt lef' here three daysago to go north. Dey said dey was a gwine to de centenimentalexpedition, an' to Newport an' somewhahs else--I reckon it was to somesort o' mountains--White Mountains, mebbe, an dey said dey'd be backagin in November, ef dey didn't make up dere minds to stay longer, orcome back afore dat time. So now you knows as much about it as I does."
The Wreck of the Red Bird: A Story of the Carolina Coast Page 2