SYLVIA CARRIES A MESSAGE
Mrs. Fulton did not seem surprised to hear of Sylvia's dismissal from
Miss Patten's school because of her failure to salute the palmetto
flag. She did not say very much of the occurrence that afternoon, when
Sylvia returned from the fort, for she wanted Sylvia to think as
pleasantly as possible of her pretty teacher. But she was surprised
that Sylvia herself did not have more to say about the affair.
But Sylvia's own thoughts were so filled by the mysterious letter which
was pinned inside her dress, with wondering how she could safely
deliver it without the knowledge of anyone, that she hardly thought of
school. For the time she had even forgotten Estralla.
"What do you say to becoming a teacher yourself, Sylvia dear?" her
mother asked, as they sat together in the big sunny room which
overlooked the harbor.
"When I grow up?" asked Sylvia.
Mrs. Fulton smiled. Sylvia "grown up" seemed a long way in the future.
"No--that is too far away," she answered. "I was thinking that perhaps
you would like to teach Estralla to read and write. You could begin
to-morrow, if you wished."
"Yes, indeed! Mother, you think of everything," declared Sylvia. "Why,
that will be better than going to school!"
"But we must not let your own studies be neglected," her mother
reminded her, "so after you have given Estralla a morning lesson each
day you and I will study together and keep up with Grace and Flora. By
the way, Flora was here just before you and your father reached home;
she was very sorry not to see you, and I have asked Flora and Grace to
come to supper to-morrow night."
Sylvia began to think that a world without school was going to be a
very pleasant world after all. She was sure that it would be great fun
to teach Estralla, and to have lessons with her mother was even better
than reciting to pretty Miss Rosalie; and, beside this, her best
friends were coming to supper the next night, so she had many pleasant
things to think of, which was exactly what her mother had planned. Her
father had said that she might ask Grace to go sailing with them in the
Butterfly in a day or two; and now Sylvia resolved to ask if she might
not ask Flora as well, and perhaps Estralla could go, too. So it was no
wonder that she ran up-stairs singing:
"There's a good time coming, It's almost here,"--
greatly to the satisfaction of her father and mother, who had feared
that she would be very unhappy over the school affair. They were sorry
it had happened, but they could not blame Sylvia.
"Oh, Missy Sylvia, here I is," and as Sylvia set her candle on the
table, Estralla stood smiling before her.
"Oh!" exclaimed Sylvia with such surprise that the little darky looked
at her wonderingly.
"Yo' tells me to come, an' here I is," she repeated. "You tells me,"
and Estralla sniffed as if ready to give her usual wails, "that you'se
gwine to stop my bein' sold off from my mammy. How you gwine to stop
it, Missy?"
For a moment Sylvia was tempted to tell Estralla that it couldn't be
helped, as long as South Carolina believed in slavery. But Estralla's
sad eyes and pleading look made her resolve again to protect this
little slave girl against injustice. So she replied quickly:
"That is my secret. But don't you worry. Some day, very soon, I shall
tell you all about it. You know, Estralla, that you need not be afraid.
And what do you think! I am not going to school any more."
Estralla's face had brightened. She was always quite ready to smile,
but she could not understand why Sylvia had wanted her to come so
mysteriously to her room.
"And I am going to teach you to read and write," Sylvia added.
"Is you, Missy?" Estralla responded in a half-frightened whisper. Now,
she thought, she knew all about Missy Sylvia's reasons for the secret
visit. For very few slave-owners allowed anyone to teach the slaves to
read and write. Estralla knew this, and it seemed a wonderful thing
that Missy Sylvia proposed.
"I'll tell you all about it to-morrow morning," said Sylvia; "now run
away," and with a chuckle of delight Estralla closed the door softly
behind her. She had been quite ready to run away with Missy Sylvia when
she had crept up the stairs earlier in the evening. But to stay safely
with her mammy and learn to read seemed a much happier plan to the
little darky. If she could read and write! Why, it would be almost as
wonderful as it would to be a little white girl, she thought.
Now Sylvia realized, as she stood alone in her safe, pleasant chamber,
that as soon as possible she must deliver the letter entrusted to her.
If it was to go to Washington it must be some message that was of
importance to the officers at Fort Moultrie and Fort Sumter, she
thought. Perhaps it might even be something that would help Carolinians
to give up slavery; and then Estralla and Aunt Connie, and all the
black people she knew and liked, could be safe and have homes of their
own.
Sylvia went to the window and peered out. The street and garden lay
dark and shadowy. Now and then a dark figure went along the street. The
house seemed very quiet. She tiptoed to the closet and took out a brown
cape. It was one which she wore on stormy days, and nearly covered her.
Then from one of the bureau drawers she drew out a long blue silk
scarf, and twisted it about her head.
"I can pull the end over my face, and they'll think I'm a darky," she
thought, resolved if anyone spoke to her not to answer.
She whispered over the name and address on the letter. She knew that
the street led from King Street, and she was sure that she could find
it. But it was some distance from home; it would be late before she
could get back.
She blew out her candle, opened her chamber door and stood listening.
She could not hear a sound, and tiptoed cautiously along the hall to
the stairs. What if the door of her mother's room should open, she
thought, terrified at such a possibility. What could she say? She had
promised not to tell of the letter, and what reason could she give for
creeping out of the house at that hour?
But she reached the lower floor safely, and now came the danger of
making a noise when opening the door. Sylvia grasped the big key and
turned it slowly. Then she pulled at the heavy door, and it swung back
easily. She gave a long breath of relief as she stepped out on the
piazza. She left the door ajar, so that she could slip in easily on her
return. Keeping in the shadow of the trees she reached the street, and
now she felt sure that nothing could prevent her from delivering the
letter.
She ran swiftly along, now and then meeting someone who glanced
wonderingly at the flying little figure. She had reached King Street
and was nearly at the street where she was to turn, when suddenly a
heavy hand grasped her arm and nearly swung her from her feet.
"Running off, are you? And wearing your mistress's clothes at that,
I'll warrant," said a gruff voice. "Wall, now, whose darky are you?"
Sylvia pulled the silken scarf from her face, and even in the glimmer
of the dull street-lamp under which the man had drawn her he could see
the auburn hair and blue eyes. But he still kept his grasp on her arm.
There were slaves who were not black, he knew, and "quality white"
girls were not running about Charleston streets alone at night.
"What is your name?" he demanded.
Sylvia looked at him resentfully. "How dare you grab me like this?" she
demanded. "Let me go."
The man released his grasp instantly. No darky girl or slave would have
spoken like that. He vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, more
frightened now than Sylvia herself.
For an instant Sylvia stood quite still. She felt ready to cry, and now
walked more slowly. For the first time she realized something of what
it must be to be a colored girl.
"If I had been Estralla he could have dragged me off and had me
whipped," she thought. "Oh, I must get Mr. Robert Waite to let Estralla
stay safe with us."
She was now near her destination, which proved to be a large house
right on the street. She knocked at the door several times before it
was opened. Then she found herself looking up at a tall man whose white
hair and kindly smile gave her confidence.
"Well, little girl, whom do you wish to see?" he asked pleasantly.
"I have a message, I--" began Sylvia, her voice trembling a little.
"Are you Mr. Doane?"
"Yes; come in," and he held the door open for her to enter, and then
closed and fastened it behind them.
Sylvia drew the letter from its hiding-place and handed it to him, and
Mr. Doane slipped it into his pocket.
"Come in, my child, and rest a moment; you are out of breath," he said,
leading the way to a small room at the end of the narrow hall.
Sylvia was glad to sit down in a low chair near the table, while Mr.
Doane opened the envelope. She could see that there was another letter
enclosed, as well as the one which the tall man was reading with such
interest.
When he had finished reading the letter he tore it into a great many
small pieces. Then he put the enclosed envelope carefully in an inner
pocket.
"So you brought me this letter from the fort. Well, you have done what
I hope may prove a great service to the Stars and Stripes. I thank
you," he said, looking with smiling eyes at the tired little figure in
the brown cape.
Then he asked Sylvia her name, and she told him that no one, not even
her dear mother, knew that she had brought the message. Before they had
finished their talk he had heard all about the blue cockades that the
girls had worn at Miss Patten's school, and of Sylvia's refusal to
salute the palmetto flag.
"You see I couldn't do that, because it would mean that I believed that
Estralla ought to be a slave, and of course I don't believe such a
dreadful thing," she explained. So then Mr. Doane heard all about
Estralla and Aunt Connie.
Sylvia decided that she liked Mr. Doane even better than Captain
Carleton. And when he told her again that by her courage in bringing
him the message from the fort, and by her silence in regard to it, that
she had done him a great service, as well as a service to those whose
only wish for South Carolina was that the State should free herself
from slavery, Sylvia forgot all about the long walk through the shadowy
streets.
"I wish I had someone to send with you to see you home safely," Mr.
Doane said, a little anxiously, as they stood together in the little
hallway. "But I am known here, and I fear everything I do is watched.
So I must trust that you will be safely cared for."
Before Sylvia could reply, and say that she was not at all afraid to go
alone, the outer door rattled as if someone were trying to push it open.
"You have been followed. Run back to the sitting-room," whispered Mr.
Doane. "I will open the door."