DANDY DETERMINES TO WATCH AND WAIT.
Fortunately for Dandy, Master Archy was not as "long-winded" as some
orators of whom we have read, and, unhappily, heard; and therefore we
cannot say to what extent his passion would have led him on the present
occasion. There was no fear of consequences to deter him from smiting
his bondman, even unto death. If he had killed him, though the
gentle-hearted might have frowned or trembled in his presence, there was
no law that could reach him. There was no dread of prison and scaffold
to stay his arm, and what his untamed fury prompted him to do, he might
have done with impunity. Even the statute made for the protection of the
slave from his cruel master, would have been of no avail, for the want
of a white witness to substantiate the facts.
Dandy ran away. It was all he could do, except defend himself, which
might have resulted in further injury to his young master, and thus
involved him deeper than before in the guilt of striking a blow in his
own defence. With no particular purpose in his mind, except to avoid the
blow of the club, he retreated in the direction which led him away from
the point where they had landed. He ran at his utmost speed for a few
moments, for the impetuosity of his master had wonderfully increased his
fleetness. Master Archy's wind soon gave out, and he was no longer able
to continue the chase. He abandoned the pursuit, and throwing himself
upon the ground, vented his rage in a flood of tears.
Dandy did not deem it prudent to approach him while in this mood, and he
seated himself on a stump at a point where he could observe his master's
motions. Master Archy was not cruel or vindictive by nature, and Dandy
hoped that a few moments of rest would restore him to his equilibrium.
Archy's faults were those of his education; they were the offspring of
his social position. He had been accustomed to have his own way, except
when his will came in opposition to that of his father, which was very
seldom, for Colonel Raybone was extremely and injudiciously indulgent to
his children.
It was evident to his body-servant that something had gone wrong that
morning with Master Archy. He had never before carried his fury to such
an extreme. Though he was never reasonable, it was not often that he was
so unreasonable as on this occasion.
Dandy watched him patiently till he thought it was time his passion had
spent itself, and then walked towards him. Archy discovered the movement
before he had advanced many steps; but without making a demonstration of
any kind, he rose from the ground, and moved off towards the scene of
the late encounter. As he passed the spot, he took his coat upon his
arm, and made his way to the Point.
The unhappy servant was troubled and mystified by this conduct; and he
was still more bewildered when he saw Archy step into the boat, and
heard him, in sharp tones, order the boatmen to pull home.
"Dar's Dandy. Isn't he gwine to go home wid us?" said Cyd, who was even
more mystified than the body-servant.
"No questions! Obey my orders, and pull for home," replied Archy, as he
adjusted his shirt sleeves and put on his coat.
When he had arranged his dress, he threw himself upon the velvet
cushions, and took no further notice of Dandy or the crew. His orders
were, of course, obeyed. The bow oarsman pushed off the boat, and she
was headed up the Crosscut. By this time, poor Dandy, who,
notwithstanding the obliquities of his master's disposition, had a
strong regard for him, reached the shore.
"I am very sorry for what has happened, Master Archy, and I hope you
will forgive me," said he, in humble tones.
The imperious young lord made no reply to this supplicating petition.
"Please to forgive me!" pleaded Dandy.
"Silence! Don't speak to me again till I give you permission to do so,"
was the only reply he vouchsafed.
Dandy knew his master well enough to obey, literally, the injunction
imposed upon him. Seating himself upon the ground, he watched the
receding boat, as the lusty oarsmen drove it rapidly through the water.
The events of the morning were calculated to induce earnest and serious
reflection. The consequences of the affair were yet to be developed, but
Dandy had no strong misgivings. Archy, he hoped and expected, would
recover his good nature in a few hours, at the most, and then he would
be forgiven, as he had been before.
It is true, he had never before given his master an angry blow; but he
had been grievously provoked, and he hoped this would prove a sufficient
excuse. Archy had lost his temper, sprung at him with the fury of a
tiger, and struck him several severe blows. His face was even now
covered with blood, and his nose ached from the flattening it had
received. He could not feel that he had done a very wicked deed. He had
only defended himself, which is the inborn right of man or boy when
unjustly assailed. He had been invited, nay, pressed, to strike the blow
which had caused the trouble.
Then he thought of his condition, of the wrongs and insults which had
been heaped upon him; and if the few drops of negro blood that flowed in
his veins prompted him to patience and submission, the white blood, the
Anglo-Saxon inspiration of his nature, which coursed through the same
channels, counselled resistance, mad as it might seem. As he thought of
his situation, the tears came into his eyes, and he wept bitterly. The
future was dark and forbidding, as the past had been joyless and
hopeless. They were tears of anger and resentment, rather than of
sorrow.
He almost envied the lot of the laborers, who toiled in the cane-fields.
Though they were meanly clad and coarsely fed, they were not subjected
to the whims and caprices of a wayward boy. They had nothing to fear but
the lash of the driver, and this might be avoided by diligence and care.
And then, with the tears coursing down his pale cheeks, he realized that
the field-hands who labored beneath the eye of the overseer and the
driver were better off and happier than he was.
"What can I do!" murmured he, as he rose from the ground, and walked
back to the shade of the trees. "If I resist, I shall be whipped; and I
cannot endure this life. It is killing me."
"I will run away!" said he, as he sat down upon a stump at some distance
from the Point. "Where shall I go?"
He shuddered as he thought of the rifle of the overseer, and the
bloodhounds that would follow upon his track. The free states were far,
far away, and he might starve and die in the deep swamps which would be
his only hiding place. It was too hopeless a remedy to be adopted, and
he was obliged to abandon the thought in despair.
"I will watch and wait," said he. "Something will happen one of these
days. If I ever go to New Orleans again, I will hide myself in some ship
bound to the North. Perhaps Master Archy will travel some time. He may
go to Newport, Cape May, or Saratoga, with his father, this season or
next, and I shall go with him. I will be patient and submissive--that is
what the preacher said we must all do; and if we are in trouble, God
will sooner or later take the burden from our weary spirits. I will be
patient and submissive, but I will _watch and wait_."
WATCH AND WAIT! There was a world of hope and consolation in
the idea which the words expressed. He wiped away the tears which had
trickled down his blood-stained face. WATCH AND WAIT was the
only north star which blazed in the darkened firmament of his existence.
He could watch and wait for months and years, but constant watching and
patient waiting would one day reveal the opportunity which should break
his bonds, and give him the body and spirit that God had bestowed upon
him as his birthright.
Comforted by these reflections, and inspired by a new and powerful hope,
he walked down to the river again. His step was elastic, and in his
heart he had forgiven Master Archy. He determined to do all he could to
please him; to be patient and submissive even under his wayward and
petulant rule. He washed the blood from his face, and tried to wash away
the rancor which his master's conduct had kindled in his soul.
Having made his peace with himself, his master, and all mankind, he sat
down upon the stump, and took from his pocket a small Testament, which a
pedler had dared to sell him for the moderate sum of five dollars. He
read, and the blessed words gave him new hope and new courage. He felt
that he could bear any thing now; but he was mistaken, for there was an
ordeal through which, in a few hours, he was doomed to pass--an ordeal
to which his patience and submission could not reconcile him.
While he was reading, he heard the dip of oars. Restoring the volume to
his pocket, he waited the arrival of the boat. It was the barge of
Archy; but the young gentleman was not a passenger. The crew had been
sent down by Colonel Raybone to convey him back to the estate.
The blank looks of the crew seemed ominous of disaster. Even the
brilliant ivories of the ever-mirthful Cyd were veiled in darkness
beneath his ebony cheek. He looked sad and terrified, and before any of
the crew had spoken a word, Dandy was fully assured that a storm was
brewing.
"Massa Raybone done send us down to fotch you up," said Cyd, gloomily.
"What's the matter, Cyd?" demanded Dandy, trying to be cheerful in the
face of these portending clouds of darkness.
"Massa Archy done git a black eye some how or oder, and Massa Kun'l frow
'imself into a horrid passion. Den he roar and swear jes like an
alligator wid a coal o' fire in 'is troat," replied Cyd, aghast with
horror.
"Well, what then?" asked Dandy, with a long breath.
"Den he send for Long Tom."
"For Long Tom!" gasped Dandy, his cheek paling and his frame quivering
with emotion.
"Dat's de truf," replied Cyd, shaking his head.
"Long Tom" was a tall, stout negro-driver, who did the whipping upon the
plantation. He was to be whipped! It was a barbarism to which he had
never been subjected, and he was appalled at the thought.
At first, he decided not to return. Even the bloodhounds and the perils
of the swamp were less terrible than the whipping-post. But he was
unwilling to believe that he was to be subjected to this trying ordeal,
and impelled by the resolutions he had made, he at last determined to
meet his master, and by a fair representation of the case, with an
earnest appeal to Archy, he hoped, and even expected, to escape the
punishment.
Taking his place in the boat, he was soon gliding swiftly on his way to
the plantation.