by Howard Pyle
The crowd of slaves in front of the overseer — black and white — barefoot, half-clad, wretched, low-browed, made a motley group. The overseer was evidently just finishing his harangue to them when Jack came up around the corner of the cabin. He stopped for a moment in his speech and turned his head as Jack appeared upon the scene, and the listening crowd turned their eyes toward him from the speaker as with one movement. Jack recognized the overseer as the man who had come down with him and his master in the flat-boat from the Hall. Then the overseer went on with his speech, concluding, perhaps, rather more abruptly than he otherwise would have done. “And don’t you forget this here what I’ve been telling to you,” said he; “I be one of the best drivers in the province of Virginia if ye did but know it — and what be ye, I should like to know? Why, the very dirt of the earth under my feet. How many drivers d’ ye suppose there be in this here Colony, but what would have killed that there Will Dickson if they’d been in my place, and been struck with a hoe in the arm and cut to the bone? But I tell you, I’ve got my eye on ye all, and the first man that lifts his hand ag’in’ me again had better never been born. And now you go about your business, all of ye, and remember what you’ve seen.” Then he stepped down from the barrel and came across to Jack. “Well, master,” said he, “and who be ye?”
“I’m Master Richard Parker’s serving-man,” said Jack. “Don’t you remember me? I came down with you in the flat-boat from the Hall.”
“Ay, to be sure,” said the other. “Now I remember you very well. But what brings you here?”
“Why,” said Jack, “I take a letter up to Colonel Parker, and his honor — that is Mr. Richard Parker — told me I was to stay here all night and then be on again to-morrow.”
“Did he?” said the overseer. “Then we’ll go on to the house and tell Chloe to fit ye up a room. How long ha’ ye been over from the old country?” he asked as they walked off together.
“I was just brought here when you saw me in the boat,” Jack answered.
“Ay, to be sure,” said the other. “And what part o’ England do ye hail from?”
“I was fetched from Southampton,” said Jack. “I was kidnapped.”
“So?” said the man. “I came from Hampshire myself, and I was kidnapped, too. That’s been more than twelve year ago. I had a cousin in Southampton. D’ ye happen to know anything of her — Polly Ackerman?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Jack, “I do know a Mistress Mary Ackerman. She lives in Kennel Alley. Her husband’s a tailor-man. A tall, thin man with a wart on his chin.”
“Ay,” said the man, “that’s Polly Ackerman’s husband to a T, and to think it’s been twelve year since I see ’em. Well, here we are; walk in. Here, Coffee, take this horse and put it up in the stable. Walk in.” And Jack entered the barren interior with its earthen floor and its rude, home-made furniture.
That evening, after supper, Jack and his host sat out in front of the house in the gloaming. Three of the overseer’s helpers came over from their cabins to sit with them and smoke their pipes. Jack, being a new-comer, was questioned and cross-questioned about the old country until he was wearied of telling what he knew. It was all very quiet and restful after the day’s journey. Some voices from the servants’ quarters sounded loud in the stillness of the hot, breathless evening. The night-hawks flew high, circling with piping cries, and now and then dropping with sudden booming flight. The frogs from the distant swamp piped and croaked ceaselessly, and a whippoorwill perched on the edge of the roof in the darkness, and uttered its hurried repeated notes over and over again in answer to one of its kind in the more distant thickets. Once or twice Jack wondered aimlessly how it was faring with the poor servant whom he had only just missed seeing whipped an hour or two before, but he did not ask the overseer about him.
CHAPTER XVIII
MISS ELEANOR PARKER
IT WAS NEARLY noon the next day when Jack rode up to the front of Marlborough. A group of negroes came gathering about the horse, and Jack asked of them whether Colonel Parker was at home.
“Iss, he be at home,” was the grinning answer; but no one made any offer to help him in any way. Just then Mr. Simms came to the door of his office in one of the wings of the house, and then, though bareheaded, walked directly across in the sun to where Jack stood holding his horse.
“What d’ ye want?” said the factor, and Jack answered that he brought a letter from Mr. Richard Parker to his honor.
“Humph!” said Mr. Simms, and his face fell somewhat. “You don’t know what your master wants, do you?”
Jack looked at the factor somewhat cunningly. “How should I know?” said he.
“Well, then, give me the letter,” said Mr. Simms, “and I’ll take it to Colonel Parker. You came just in time to find him at home, for he’s going to Williamsburg this afternoon. You may go into the hall and wait for your answer there, if you choose. Here, Blackie” — to one of the negroes— “take this horse over to the stable. Come in, young man, come in!”
The great empty, shady hallway, open from one end to the other, felt and looked very dark and cool after the glare of the morning sun outside. The great doors stood open from the rear to the front, and from where he sat Jack, through the vista of trees, could catch a glimpse of the wide river stretching away in the sunlight, sparkling and glittering in the warm breeze. The strong wind swept through the space, and it was very cool and sweet. Jack sat there waiting and waiting. Somewhere a mocking-bird in a cage was singing its mimic notes, and now and then he could hear the noise of voices echoing loudly through the summer stillness of the great house. There was the sound of an occasional banging of a door, a distant snatch of a high-pitched, monotonous negro song. Through all these he could hear the ceaseless tinkling and jingling of a spinet played in one of the more distant rooms. As Jack sat listening, holding his hat in his hand, he knew that it must be Miss Eleanor Parker who was playing the spinet; and thinking of her he recalled that first day of his servitude, in which he had come out across the lawn and had seen her standing behind her father, looking at him. It seemed as though all that had happened not two or three months ago but two or three years ago, in some far-away time of the past. Suddenly the music ceased — a door opened, and the young lady came into the hall fanning herself. As she came forward Jack rose and stood waiting for her to pass by. She glanced toward him and was about to do so, when she suddenly recognized him and stopped. “Why,” said she, “are you not the young man that papa gave to Uncle Richard for a servant some while ago?”
“Yes, lady,” said Jack, and he blushed hotly.
“Methought I remembered your face,” she said; “and tell me, how do you like to be with my uncle?”
“I like it — that is, I like well enough to be with him,” said Jack, “if I have to be with any body. I wouldn’t be anybody’s servant, if I could help it.”
“But sure,” said she, “you must be somebody’s servant. Why else did you come from England except to be a servant?”
“I could not help coming,” said Jack. “I was knocked in the head and kidnapped.”
“Why, then,” said she, “it was a very great pity, indeed, for you to have been treated so. What is your name?”
“Jack — that is, John Ballister.”
Just then Mr. Simms came down-stairs to where Jack and the young lady stood. “Colonel Parker wants to see you up-stairs in his closet, young man,” said the factor; and then to the young lady, “By your leave, Mistress Nelly,” said he, “I’ll have to take him up-stairs with me, his honor wishes to speak with him.”
“He tells me, Mr. Simms, that he hath been kidnapped and fetched here to Virginia against his will,” she said.
“Like enough, Miss Nelly. ’Tis the only way we can supply enough servants nowadays. If they did but know it, they are a thousand times better off here living at ease than they are at home living in poverty.”
“I wasn’t living in poverty,” Jack said, indignantly.
“There, M
r. Simms, you hear what he says?” said the young lady.
“Well, Miss Nelly, you can talk about this some other time, maybe, for now by your leave I must take the young man away. His honor wants to see him.”
When Jack was ushered into Colonel Parker’s presence he found him seated in a large, double-nailed armchair at an open window. Some books and a lot of letters and papers lay upon the writing-desk near at hand. His head was covered by a silk nightcap, and he wore a silk dressing-gown. A sealed letter lay upon the window-sill beside him. “Come hither, young man,” he said to Jack. “Haven’t I seen you before?”
“I DON’T WANT TO BE ANYBODY’S SERVANT, LADY, AND WOULDN’T IF I COULD HELP IT.”
“Why, yes, your honor,” said Jack. “You gave me as a servant to Mr. Richard Parker.”
“He was one of the servants I fetched over from Yorktown when the Arundel came in,” said Mr. Simms.
“Oh, yes, I remember now,” said Colonel Parker. “How long have you been with your master?”
“Between two and three months, sir.”
“Two or three months, hey? Well, tell me now, how does your master live — what does he do?”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” said Jack hesitatingly, and then he looked in the direction of Mr. Simms.
“You need not mind my agent,” said Colonel Parker, “and I want you to speak plainly. Tell me, does your master play much at cards or dice?”
“Yes — yes, sir,” hesitated Jack, “he does play sometimes.”
“You see, Simms,” said Colonel Parker. “I knew ’twas so. That is where the money all goes.” Mr. Simms did not reply, and Colonel Parker turned to Jack again. “Tell me,” he said, “is my brother often away from home?”
“Methinks, sir,” said Mr. Simms, very respectfully but firmly, “you do your brother an injustice in thus questioning his servant behind his back.”
“I mean to do him no injustice, Simms,” said Colonel Parker, impatiently, “but I mean to do myself justice. Tell me, boy,” he continued, turning to Jack, “do men come pushing your master for money?”
“Sometimes, sir,” said Jack. “There was a man came once saying that Mr. Parker owed him a thousand pounds, and last night—”
“A thousand pounds!” interrupted Colonel Parker. “’Tis enough. I will not ruin myself, Simms, for him or for any other man. Take this letter, sirrah, and give it to your master,” and he handed Jack the sealed letter that lay in the window place beside him. “And now get you gone.”
It was the middle of the afternoon of the following day when Jack finally reached the Roost. Mr. Parker himself came to the door as he galloped up and leaped to the ground, and the housekeeper looked down from an upper window. Jack’s master snatched Colonel Parker’s note from his fingers and tore it open violently. He hesitated for a moment, and then he began reading it, running his glance rapidly down the letter. As he did so, his face gathered into a heavier and heavier frown, and his strong, white teeth bit deep into the end of the cigarro. At last he crushed the letter in his hand. Jack, for fear he should appear to notice anything, had turned and had begun to stroke and rub the neck of the sweating horse. When he looked again, he saw that Mr. Parker had reopened the crumpled letter and was reading it through once more, this time very carefully. Then, having finished it the second time, he tore it sharply across, and then across again and again and into little pieces that fell at last in a white fluttering shower.
CHAPTER XIX
THE VISITOR AGAIN
IT WAS THE next day after Jack had returned from Marlborough. The night was still and sultry, with just a breath of hot breeze blowing. Jack and Little Coffee were sitting together on the door-step, and Jack was telling about Miss Eleanor Parker. The moon had risen full and round, and bathed all the dark, hot, panting earth with a flood of shimmering silver. The fireflies, which were now just beginning to illuminate the night, flashed and twinkled here and there in clusters out over the damper places. Jack’s coat lay upon the step beside him, and now he sat in his shirt sleeves. Every now and then he slapped at the mosquitos that sang persistently in his ears. He had been speaking of Miss Eleanor Parker.
“I see her once myself,” said Little Coffee.
“And she spoke as kind as could be to me, and asked me all about myself,” continued Jack, without paying any attention to Little Coffee. “I told her how I had been kidnapped. I do believe she’ll speak to her father about me. M — m — m — !” he groaned, stretching himself. “I’m that sore with riding that if I’d had a beating I couldn’t be sorer. Drat that mosquito!” and he slapped his cheek violently.
“I see her once,” said Little Coffee again. “Ai! she a beauty! Um! You ain’t de only one in de world see her. She came down de ribber in de big boat and stopped yan at de landing. I stand up on de bluff and I see her with three, four fine people, all going down ribber. Dey stop here for de ma — aster.”
They were so intent upon their talk that they did not notice the approach of a stranger through the milky brightness of the night, until he was close to them. Then he was there. Jack jumped up from the step as the visitor approached, his feet rustling in the long, dry, moon-lit grass. Jack did not know him at first; then he recognized him. It was the man with the long black beard who had come at night three days before to see the master. He was trigged out now with a sort of tinsel finery that made a great show in the moonlight. He wore petticoat canvas breeches and a short-skirted coat, trimmed, as was the hat, with gilt braid. He wore a satin waistcoat, and across his breast a silken sling, from which dangled a brace of pistols. A broad leathern belt, from which hung a cutlass, was fastened at his waist by a brass buckle. The moonlight shone upon a gold chain about his neck, and his beard, which before had hung loose over his breast, was now plaited into three plaits.
Jack looked at him with wonder, and Little Coffee stared with mouth agape and shining eyes. The stranger, perfectly indifferent to them, spoke directly to Jack. “Is your master at home, boy?” he said, in his hoarse, husky voice.
“Yes, he is,” said Jack.
“Well, then, just tell him I’m here,” said the visitor, “for he’s expecting me.”
The doors and windows of the house stood wide open in the warm night. Jack led the stranger into the hall, the man’s heavy shoes clattering loudly in the silence. Mr. Parker sat at the desk in the room beyond, looking over some papers by the light of a candle. The warm breeze came in at the window, and the candle flickered and wavered. The insects flew around and around the light, and great beetles droned and tumbled in blundering flight. The room was full of the sooty smell from the empty fireplace. Mr. Parker sat in his shirt sleeves. He looked up as Jack tapped upon the door, and his fine florid face glistened with sweat. “Here’s a man wants to see your honor,” said Jack.
The stranger pushed roughly by Jack and entered. “I thought it must be you, captain,” said Mr. Parker, coldly; “I’ve been looking for you all the afternoon. Here; take this chair and sit down,” and he pointed to a seat as he spoke, turning his own chair around so as to bring his back to the candle and his face into shadow. “You may go,” said he to Jack, “and shut the door after you.”
Mr. Parker waited, after the door closed, until he heard Jack’s departing footsteps quitting the house. Meantime, he looked his visitor over with perfectly cool indifference, but with a sort of dry interest in his singular costume — his eyes lingering particularly upon the plaited beard and the chain around the neck. “I suppose, my good man,” said he at last, “that you’ve come for the settlement of that paper of yours?”
“Why, yes, I have,” said the other. “Why else d’ ye suppose I’d come?”
“Well, then,” said Mr. Parker, “I’m sorry for you, for I can’t say that I’m ready, after all, to settle it, or even a part of it. And what’s more, I won’t be for four weeks or more yet, nor until my brother’s agent pays me my quarterly allowance.”
“Not ready!” exclaimed the other, and he stare
d with bold anger at Mr. Parker. “What d’ ye mean by that? Why should you tell me last week that you’d pay me to-day, and then in so short a time change your mind and blow t’other way?” Mr. Parker shrugged his shoulders coolly, but did not condescend to explain how he had been disappointed in getting money from his brother.
“And don’t you intend to pay me at all, then?” the stranger asked in a loud voice.
“Why, fellow,” said Mr. Parker, “it will do you no good to lift your voice and to bluster at me. You can’t squeeze blood out of a stone, and you can’t squeeze money out of a man who hath none.”
“And when will you pay me, then?”
“That I cannot tell you either, except, as I said, I will settle something upon the paper when my allowance is paid me, and that will be four weeks from next Monday.”
“Why, then, Mr. Parker,” said the other, speaking more and more violently, “you know very well that I can’t be here four weeks from now. You know very well what danger I stand in here in Virginia as it is, and that I can’t come and go as I please, or as you please for me. You was pleased to tell me, last time I was here, that I’d broke my pardon, and you know I come here with a halter around my neck. Come, come, Mr. Parker, if you know what’s good for you you’ll make some reasonable settlement with me, and by —— you must make it to-night.”
“Must? Must, Mr. Pirate?”
“Yes, must, Mr. Gambler. Lookee, wind and weather permitting, I sail for North Carolina the day after to-morrow. If by that time you don’t make some settlement of this paper of yours, I’ll send it to your brother for collection, and tell him how I came by it. D’ ye understand?”