A CHRISTMAS PRESENT
Every nook and corner of Fort Moultrie was searched for the missing
Sylvia, and when no trace of her could be discovered, her friends
became nearly certain that the little girl must have slipped from the
landing-place into the sea, and that it was useless to search for her.
But it was late in the evening before Mr. Fulton gave up the search,
and with a sad and anxious heart headed the Butterfly toward
Charleston. He still hoped that his little girl might be found. A party
of soldiers, headed by Captain Carleton, had started to search for her
on Sullivan's Island, but this had not been determined upon until late
in the evening, at about the time when Estralla and Sylvia were
embarking upon their adventurous voyage to Fort Sumter.
No one had given a thought to the little darky girl. She was supposed
to be somewhere about the fort.
Grace, warmly wrapped in a thick shawl, sat beside Mr. Fulton as the
Butterfly made its swift way across the dark harbor. They could see the
dark line of the guard-boat, but they were not molested and came into
the wharf safely. Grace held close to Mr. Fulton's hand as they hurried
toward home with the sad news of Sylvia's disappearance. Neither of
them spoke until they reached the walk leading to the door of Grace's
home, then Grace said:
"I know Sylvia will be found. Estralla will surely find her and bring
her home."
"Estralla! Why, I had entirely forgotten her," responded Mr. Fulton.
"She ran off as soon as Sylvia was missed," Grace continued earnestly,
"and she will find her. Probably she has found her before this."
"I believe you are right. Estralla is a clever little darky, and if she
started in search of Sylvia perhaps she has been able to find her. I
had not thought of it," and Mr. Fulton's voice had a new note of hope.
"Thank you, Grace. I will start back to the fort as soon as I have
talked with Sylvia's mother."
But on Mr. Fulton's return to the wharf he found a sentry on guard who
refused him permission to go to the fort. It was in vain that Mr.
Fulton explained that his little daughter was lost, that he must be
permitted to return to the fort.
The sentry wasted no words. "Orders, sir. Sorry," was the only response
he could get, and at midnight Mr. Fulton was in his own house looking
out over the harbor. Mingled with his anxious fear for the safety of
his little daughter was the thought of the sentries now guarding
Charleston's water-front, of the assembling of soldiers in the city,
and the evident plan of the southerners to seize the forts in the
harbor and force the Government into war.
He realized that in that case it would not be possible for his family
to remain in Charleston.
Early the next morning Sylvia was awakened and made ready for her
return, and when the sun shone brightly over the waters of the harbor
she and Estralla, with Captain Gerald and a strong negro servant, were
on board a boat sailing rapidly toward home.
They landed at the wharf where the Butterfly was fastened, and before
Captain Gerald had stepped on shore Sylvia called out: "Father! Father!
There he is! And Mother, too!" and in another moment her mother's arms
were about her, and she was telling as rapidly as possible the story of
her adventures, and of Estralla coming to her rescue.
Grace came running to meet Sylvia as they came near their home.
"Oh, Sylvia, I wish I had been with you," she exclaimed. "That is twice
you have been to Fort Sumter without meaning to go, isn't it?"
"We will hope that her next visit will not be as dangerous as this
one," said Mr. Fulton soberly.
For several days Sylvia could think and talk only of her wanderings
among the sand-hills, and of her first sight of the guard-boat. She
began teaching Estralla on the very day of her return, and the little
darky made rapid progress.
"Father, when may we go to Fort Moultrie again?" she asked one morning
a few days later, for she wanted very much to see Mrs. Carleton, and
was quite sure that her father would be ready to sail down the harbor
on any pleasant day, and his reply made her look up in surprise.
"I do not know that we shall ever go to the forts again," her father
had replied. "Did you not hear the bells ringing and the military music
yesterday? South Carolina has seceded from the Union. No one is allowed
to go to the forts. And unless Major Anderson takes possession of Fort
Sumter the Confederates will."
"And we are to start for Boston next week, dear child," Sylvia's mother
added.
It seemed to Sylvia that her mother was very glad at the thought of
returning to her former home. But Sylvia was not glad. What would
become of Estralla?
Mr. Waite had said that as long as Sylvia lived in his house the little
colored girl could be her maid. But if they went to Boston and left
Estralla behind Sylvia was sure that there would be nothing but trouble
for the faithful little darky.
"Why, Sylvia! What is the matter?" questioned her mother anxiously; for
Sylvia was leaning her head on the table.
"I can't go to Boston and leave Estralla!" she sobbed. "She has done
lots of brave things for me. She wouldn't leave me to be a slave."
Mr. and Mrs. Fulton looked at each other with puzzled eyes.
"But Estralla would not want to leave her mammy," suggested Mr. Fulton.
"Oh, Father! Can't Aunt Connie and Estralla go with us?" and Sylvia
lifted her head and looked hopefully at her father. "Couldn't I buy
Estralla and then make her free? I've got that gold money Grandma gave
me."
"I am afraid it wouldn't be much use for me to even try to buy a
slave's freedom now," Mr. Fulton said a little sadly. "Don't suggest
such a thing to Aunt Connie, Sylvia."
"When shall we go to Boston?" Sylvia asked.
"Right away after Christmas, unless Fort Sumter is attacked before that
time. Washington ought to send troops and provisions for the forts at
once!" replied Mr. Fulton.
After her father had left the house Sylvia and her mother went up to
Mrs. Fulton's pleasant sitting-room.
"We must begin to pack at once," declared Sylvia's mother, "and do not
go outside the gate alone, Sylvia. I wish we could leave Charleston
immediately."
"Won't I see Mrs. Carleton again?" Sylvia asked anxiously.
"I do not know, dear child, but run away and give Estralla her lesson,
as usual. It will not be a very gay Christmas for any of us this year,"
responded Mrs. Fulton, and Sylvia went slowly to her own room where
Estralla was waiting for her.
The little colored girl had put the room in order; there was a bright
fire in the grate, the morning sunshine filled the room, and Miss Molly
and Polly, smiling as usual, were in the tiny chairs behind the little
round table.
"Dar's gwine to be war, Missy!" Estralla declared solemnly. "Yas'm.
Dar's soldiers comin' in from ebery place. Won't de Yankees come and
set us free, Missy?"
Sylvia shook her head. "I don't know, Estralla! Let's not talk about
it," she replied.
"Wal, Missy, lots of darkies are runnin' off! My mammy say we'll stay
right here 'til Massa Fulton goes, an' den"--Estralla stopped, leaned a
little nearer to Sylvia and whispered, "an' den my mammy an' I we'se
gwine to go with Massa Fulton."
Mrs. Fulton was not in her room, so Sylvia went down the stairs to look
for her. She heard voices in the sitting-room, and turned in that
direction.
"Oh!" she whispered, as she stood in the open door. For her mother was
sitting on the big sofa near the open fire, and beside her sat Mr.
Robert Waite, while her father was standing in front of them. They were
all talking so earnestly that they did not notice the surprised little
girl standing in the doorway, and Sylvia heard Mr. Waite say:
"I shall be glad to protect your interests here, Mr. Fulton, as far as
it is possible to do so. And you had better leave Charleston
immediately. The city is no longer a safe place for northern people.
The conflict may begin at any moment."
"'Conflict,'" Sylvia repeated the word to herself. Probably it meant
something dreadful, she thought, recalling the "question period" at
Miss Rosalie's school.
Just then Mr. Waite glanced toward the door and saw Sylvia. In a second
he was on his feet, bowing as politely as on their last meeting.
"Miss Sylvia, I am glad to see you again," and he stepped forward to
meet her.
Sylvia, feeling quite grown-up, made her pretty curtsey, and smiled
with delight at Mr. Waite's greeting, as he led her toward her mother
and, with another polite bow, gave her the seat on the sofa.
"I was hoping to see Miss Sylvia," he said. "I had meant to make her a
little Christmas gift, with your permission," and he bowed again to
Mrs. Fulton. "She was kind enough to interest herself in behalf of one
of my people, the little darky, Estralla. And so I thought this would
please you," and he smiled at Sylvia, who began to be sure that Mr.
Waite and Santa Claus must be exactly alike. As he spoke he handed
Sylvia a long envelope.
"Do not open it until to-morrow, if you please," he added.
Sylvia promised and thanked him. She wondered if the envelope might not
contain a picture of this kind friend. She knew that she must not ask a
question; questions were never polite, she remembered, especially about
a gift. But whatever it was she was very happy to think Mr. Robert
Waite had remembered her.
They all went to the door with their friendly visitor, and stood there
until he had reached the gate. Then Sylvia said, speaking very slowly:
"I think Mr. Robert Waite is just like the Knights in that book, 'The
Age of Chivalry.' They always did exactly what was right, and so does
he; and they were polite and so is he."
"Then, my dear, perhaps you will always remember that to do brave and
gentle deeds with kindness is what 'chivalry' means," responded Mrs.
Fulton.
Grace came in that afternoon greatly excited that it was a holiday. The
whole city was rejoicing over the fact that South Carolina had been the
first of the southern states to secede from the Union. Palmetto flags
floated everywhere; the streets were filled with marching men. Major
Anderson in Fort Moultrie watched Fort Sumter with anxious eyes, hoping
for a word from Washington which would give him authority to occupy it
before the Charleston men could turn its guns against him. Already Mr.
Doane had reached Washington; the message Sylvia had carried through
the night had been delivered, and its answer, by a trusted messenger,
was on its way south.