A NEW DANGER AT RIVERVIEW
But Dorothy was not so near as I had thought, for next morning came a
message from my aunt. It was delivered almost as soon as I was out of bed
by a negro boy who had ridden over at daybreak. It was dated but two days
before, and began very formally.
"Sir," it ran, "since you no doubt will wish to recuperate from the
fatigues of the campaign so unfortunately ended, and as there is no place
where you can do this so well as at Riverview, I hasten to assure you
that the place is entirely at your service."
I paused a moment to get my breath. Her reference to the campaign was
intended as a stab, of course, yet could it be she was relenting? But
hope fell as I read on.
"In order that you may feel at liberty to avail yourself of this
invitation," the note continued, "my daughter and I have accepted one of
long standing to spend a month, or perhaps two months, at the home of a
relative. James is at Williamsburg, so that you may be entirely free to
occupy your leisure at Riverview as best pleases you. Do not think that
you have driven us from the place, for that is not at all the case. I
have long felt the need of rest, and take advantage of this opportunity,
while there is little doing on the plantation, to secure it. I trust to
your sense of honor to make no inquiries as to where we are stopping, nor
to attempt to see my daughter, who, I believe, has already discovered
that any fancy she may ever have seemed to entertain for you was more
imaginary than real."
Here was a blow, straight from the shoulder, and I winced under it.
"I could never consent," the note concluded, "to any attachment of a
serious nature between you, having quite other views for my daughter,
which, I am sure, will be for her happiness and well-being."
I read the note through a second time before I realized what a blow it
gave to all my hopes. I had had little cause to anticipate any other
treatment, it is true, and yet I have often observed that men hope most
who have least reason for it, and this was so in my case. As I read the
note again, I could not but admire the adroitness of its author. She had
placed me upon honor--without my consent, 't is true--to make no effort
to see Dorothy. I stood biting my lips with anger and vexation, and then,
with sudden resolve, turned back to the messenger.
"Go around to the kitchen and get something to eat, if you are hungry," I
said to him. "I shall be ready to ride back with you in half an hour;"
and as he disappeared around a corner of the house, agrin from ear to
ear at the prospect of refreshment, I sought Mrs. Washington and told her
that I had just received a note from my aunt and would ride to Riverview
at once. How much she suspected of my difference with my aunt, I do not
know, but if she experienced any surprise at my sudden departure, she
certainly did not show it, saying only that she regretted that I must go
so soon, and that I must always consider Mount Vernon no less my home
than Riverview,--an assurance which Colonel Washington repeated when the
moment came to say good-by, and I rode away at last with a very tender
feeling in my heart for those two figures which stood there on the steps
until I turned into the road and passed from sight.
"And how is everything at Riverview, Sam?" I asked of the boy, as we
struck into the road and settled our horses into an easy canter. He did
not answer for a moment, and when I glanced at him to see the cause of
his silence, I was astonished to find him rolling his eyes about as
though he saw a ghost.
"What's the matter, boy?" I asked sharply. "Come, speak out. What is it?"
He looked behind him and all around into the woods, and then urged his
horse close to mine.
"Mas' Tom," he said, almost in a whisper, "dere's gwine t' be hell at d'
plantation foh long. Youse stay 'way fum it."
I looked at him, still more astonished by his singular behavior. A
full-blooded negro does not turn pale, but under the influence of great
terror his skin grows spotted and livid. Sam's was livid at that moment.
"See here, Sam," I said sharply, "if you have anything to tell, I want
you to tell me right away. What are you afraid of?"
"D' witch man," he whispered, his eyes almost starting from his head, and
his forehead suddenly beading with perspiration.
"The witch man? Has a witch man come to Riverview?"
He nodded.
"And what is he doing there, Sam?"
"He says d' French dun whopped d' English, an' a-comin' t' set all d'
niggahs free. He says we mus' holp, an' dere won't be no mo' slaves. All
ub us be free, jus' like white folks."
It took me a minute or two to grasp the full meaning of this
extraordinary revelation.
"He says the French are coming to set all the niggers free?" I repeated.
Sam nodded.
"And that the niggers must help them?"
Again Sam nodded.
"Help them how, Sam?"
He hesitated.
"By killing the English, Sam?"
"I reckon dat 's it," he said reluctantly.
"And burning down their houses, perhaps?"
"I 'se hearn dat talked erboat, too."
I drew my horse in with a jerk, and catching Sam's by the bridle,
pulled it to me.
"Now, boy," I said, "you must tell me all about this. I promise you that
no one shall harm you."
He began to whimper.
"I'll tell yo', Mas' Tom," he stuttered, "but yo' mus' n' hurt d'
witch man."
"Who is this witch man?" I demanded.
"Ole uncle Polete."
"Polete's no witch man. Why, Sam, you 've known him all your life. He's
nothing but an ordinary old nigger. He's been on the plantation twenty or
thirty years. All that he needs is a good whipping."
But the boy only shook his head and sobbed the more.
"Ef he's a-killed," he cried, "his ha'nt 'll come back fo' me."
I saw in a moment what the boy was afraid of. It was not of old
Polete in the flesh, but in the spirit. I thought for a moment. Well,
I had no reason to wish Polete any harm, yet if it were discovered
that he had been inciting the slaves to insurrection, there was no
power in the colony could save his life. If his owner did not execute
him, the governor would take the matter out of his hands, and order
it done himself.
"I tell you what I'll do, Sam," I said at last. "You tell me everything
you know, and I'll do all I can to save Polete. I believe I can stop this
thing without calling in any outside help."
He agreed to this, and as we jogged along I gradually drew the details of
the plot from him. The news of our defeat had, it seemed, stirred up the
negroes at the plantation, and in some way the wild rumor had been
started that a great force of French was marching over the mountains to
conquer Virginia and all the other English colonies; that emissaries had
come to the negroes and promised them that if they would assist the
invading army, they would be given their freedom and half of the colony
to live in. It was at this time that old Polete, crazed, perhaps, by
working in the tobacco fields under the blazing sun, had suddenly
developed into a witch man, and proclaimed that he could see the French
army marching, and urged the negroes to strike a blow at once in order to
merit their freedom when the French should come. Meetings were held
almost nightly in the woods some miles from their cabins, whence they
stole away after dark by twos and threes. Just what their plans were Sam
did not know, as he did not belong to the inner council, but he believed
that something would happen soon because of the increasing excitement of
the older negroes who were acquainted with the plans.
I rode on for some time in silence, thinking over this story and trying
to decide what I would better do. I did not know until months later that
signs of unrest had been observed among the slaves all over the colony,
and that the governor had considered the situation so serious that he had
sent out many warnings concerning the danger. It was as well, perhaps,
that I did not know this then, for I might not have thought my own
portion of the problem so easy of solution. At the time, I had no
thought but that the outbreak was the result of old Polete's prophecies,
and was confined alone to Riverview.
Sam was cantering along behind me, his face still livid with terror, and
as I caught sight of it again, I wondered what impulse it was had moved
him to confide in me, with such fancied peril to himself.
"I would n' tole nobody else," he said, in answer to my question, "but
you tole a lie fo' me oncet, an' saved me a lickin'."
"Told a lie for you, Sam?" I questioned in astonishment. "When was that?"
"Don' yo' 'membah boat d' whip, Mas' Tom, what I stole?" he asked.
I looked at him for a moment before that incident of my boyhood came
back to me.
"Why, yes, I remember it now," I said. "But that was years ago, Sam, and
I had forgotten it. Besides, I didn't tell a lie for you. I only told old
Gump that I wished to give you the whip."
"Well," said Sam, looking at me doubtfully, "yo' saved me a lickin'
anyhow, an' I did n' f 'git it," and he dropped back again.
Well, to be sure, an act of thoughtfulness or mercy never hurts a man, a
fact which I have since learned for myself a hundred times, and wish all
men realized.
We were soon at Riverview, and I ordered Sam to ride out to the field
where the men were working, and tell the overseer, Long, that I wished to
see him. Sam departed on the errand, visibly uneasy, and I wandered from
my room, where I had taken my pack, along the hall and into my aunt's
business room while I waited his return. I stood again for a moment at
the spot on the staircase where I had kissed Dorothy that morning,--it
seemed ages ago,--and as I looked up, I fancied I could still see her
sweet face gazing down at me. But it was only fancy, and, with a sigh, I
turned away and went down through the hall.
There were reminders of her at every turn,--there was the place where she
had sat sewing in the evenings; over the fireplace hung a little picture
she had painted, rude enough, no doubt, but beautiful to my eyes. With a
sudden impulse, I ran down the steps and to the old seat under the oaks
by the river. Nothing had changed,--even the shadows across the water
seemed to be the same. But as I ran my hand mechanically along the arm of
the seat on the side where Dorothy always sat my fingers felt a roughness
which had not been there before, and as I looked to see what this might
be, I saw that some one had cut in the wood a T and a D, intertwined, and
circled by a tiny heart. Who could have done it? I had no need to ask
myself the question. My heart told me that no one but Dorothy could have
done it, and that she knew that I should come and sit here and live over
again the long evenings when she had sat beside me. It was a message from
my love, and with trembling lips I bent and kissed the letters which she
had carved. As I sat erect again, I heard footsteps behind me, and turned
to see Long approaching.
"You sent for me, Mr. Stewart?" he asked. "I saw you sitting here, and
decided you were waiting for me."
"Yes," I said, and I shook hands with him, for he was an honest man and a
good workman.
"I am glad to see you back again, sir, though looking so ill," he added.
"I trust the air of Riverview will soon bring you around all right," and
from his eyes I knew he meant it.
I thanked him, and bade him sit beside me. Then, in a few words, I
told him what I had learned of the negro meetings, and saw his face
grow grave.
"'Tis what I have always feared," he said, when I had finished. "There
are too many of them in the colony, and they feel their strength. If they
had a leader and a chance to combine, they might do a great deal of harm.
However, we shall soon knock this in the head."
"How?" I asked.
"Make an example of Polete," he answered decidedly. "That's the best way,
sir. Put him out of the way, let the other niggers see us do it, and
they'll quiet down fast enough."
"Undoubtedly that is the easiest way," I said, smiling, "but,
unfortunately, I had to promise the person who gave me the information
that Polete should not be harmed."
Long stared at me for a moment in amazement.
"It would be unfortunate if any of the other planters should hear of that
promise, Mr. Stewart," he said at last. "They would probably take
Polete's case into their own hands."
I laughed at his evident concern.
"No doubt," I said, "but they are not going to hear of it. I intend
telling no one but yourself, for we two are quite sufficient to stop this
thing right here, and it need go no further."
"Perhaps we are," he answered doubtfully. "What is your plan, sir?"
"Polete will hold a meeting to-night over there in the woods. Well, we
will be present at the meeting."
He looked at me without saying a word. "Our visit will probably not be
very welcome," I continued, "but I believe it will produce the desired
effect. Will you go with me?"
"Certainly," he answered readily, "but I still think my plan the
best, sir."
"Perhaps it is," I laughed, "but we will try mine first," and he went
back to the field, agreeing to be at the house at eight o'clock.
I covered with my hand the tiny letters on the arm of the bench, and,
looking out across the broad river, drifted into the land of dreams,
where Dorothy and I wandered together along a primrose path, with none to
interfere.