The “Martha Jane.”
There was the bustle of departure, on board a Yankee schooner, which
some hope of gain had brought to the southern island, named in our last
chapter. The fresh and favorable breeze hurried the preparations of the
sailors, as they moved about full of glad thoughts of return to their
distant home.
The boat, which had been sent ashore for some needful supplies, was
fast approaching the vessel, and in it, among the rough tars, was
Daph, her precious basket at her side, and her bright eyes passing from
face to face, with an eager, wistful glance, that seemed trying to read
the secrets of each heart.
“Here! go-a-head, woman! I’ll hand up your chickens;” said one of the
sailors, as they reached the anchored schooner.
“I keeps my chickens to myself,” said Daph, as she placed the basket on
her head, and went up the side of the vessel, as steadily and securely
as the oldest tar of all.
As soon as she set her foot on deck, the sailors thronged around her,
offering to take her chickens from her, at her own price, and passing
their rough jokes on her stout figure and shining black face. One young
sailor, bolder than the rest, laid his hand on the basket, and had
well-nigh torn away its cover. The joke might have proved a dangerous
one for him. A blow from Daph’s strong arm sent him staggering
backwards, and in another moment, the negress had seized an oar, and
was brandishing it round her head, threatening with destruction any
one who should dare to touch her property, and declaring that with the
captain, and with him alone, would she treat for the chickens, about
which so much had been said.
“Cap’in,” said she, as a tall, firmly-knit man drew near the scene of
the disturbance; “Cap’in, it’s you, sah, I wants to speak wid, and just
you by yourself, away from these fellows, who don’t know how to treat a
’spectable darkie, who belongs to the greatest gentleman in the island.
Let me see you in your little cubby there, and if you have an heart in
you, we’ll make a bargain.”
There was something so earnest in the woman’s manner, that Captain
Jones at once consented to her odd request, smiling at himself as he
did so.
A kind of temporary cabin had been put up on deck, for the protection
of the captain from the hot rays of the southern sun. It was but a
rude frame-work, covered with sail-cloth, and yet, when the canvas door
was closed, it formed a pleasant and cool place of retirement for an
afternoon nap, or for the transaction of private business.
To that spot Daph followed the captain, her basket on her head, and her
firm step and consequential air seeming to say to the sailors,--“You
see, your captain knows better than you do how to treat such a person
as I am.”
When they were once within the little enclosure, Daph’s manner changed.
She put down her precious basket, and looking the captain directly
in the eye, she said, solemnly, “Cap’in, would you see a man struggle
for his life in de deep water, outside da, and nebber lift your hand
to save him? Would you see a house on fire, and sweet baby-children
burning in it, and just look on to see de awsome blaze, and nebber stir
to save de dear babies? Cap’in, I’se brought you a good work to do. Dey
say de great Lord blesses dem dat cares for little children, and gives
dem a good seat in heaven. Swear by de great Lord you wont tell de
dreadsome secret I’se going to tell you! Swear! time is short!”
The kind-hearted captain was impressed by the earnest manner of the
woman, and not a little curious to hear the secret that seemed to fill
her with such strong feeling; “I swear,” said he, simply, “go on!”
“De darkies in dis island,” said Daph, slowly, “de darkies are crazy
for de blood of der masters. Poor, wicked fools! Dey means to have
enough of it to-night! By to-morrow morning, de white faces on dis
coast will ebery one be white wid de death-whiteness! Old folks and
little children--dey mean to kill dem all! Dey told Daph deir secret,
as if dey thought she was all black, inside and out. De Lord forgib
Daph, dat she did not strike dem down, where dey stood shewing deir
teeth, at the thought of living in master’s house, and he cold in de
grave! Dear massa and missus are up in de country, and Daph could n’t
get word to dem, but something in here said, ‘You can save the sweet
babies, Daph;’ so I made as if I was ready to kill dose I loves de
best, and set to work a-contriving how a poor, foolish darky could save
dose sweet lambs. Your men was always glad to take Daph’s chickens, and
so de way seemed open. I’se put my darlings in de basket, and here dey
are for you to take care ob for de Lord, and he’ll reckon wid you for
it. It aint likely dey’ll have any friends to stand by em, and thank ye
for it, ’cept one poor darky, named Daph!”
In a twinkling, Daph had torn off the cover of the basket, and there
lay the sleeping children; calm and still as if on their mother’s bosom.
“Dey do breave, de sweet dears!” said Daph, as she bent tenderly over
them.
Great tears fell from the eyes of honest Captain Jones. He was an old
sailor, but to salt water in this form he had long been a stranger. He
tried to speak, but the voice that had been heard above the tumult of
many a storm, was now choked and husky. In an instant he regained his
self-command, and said, “You have found the right man, Daph! No harm
shall come to them so long as my name is Jeremiah Jones! The Martha
Jane can skim the water like a wild duck, and will be off towards a
better country before ten minutes are over!”
The words were hardly out of Captain Jones’s mouth, before he left his
tent-like cabin, and in a moment he was heard giving orders for instant
departure.
The energy that had borne Daph through her hour of trial, seemed
to desert her, now that her object was attained, and she sank down
beside the little ones, sobbing like a child. She felt herself a poor,
helpless, ignorant creature, going she knew not whither, and having
assumed a charge she knew not how to fulfil.
“De great Lord, dat missus loves, can take care of us!” thought the
humble negro; “He can give poor Daph sense to mind de babies!”
In her ignorance, she knew not how to pray, but she leaned in simple
faith upon the only source of strength, and found consolation.
In a half-hour after the arrival of Daph on board the Martha Jane, the
trim little vessel was speeding on her homeward course.
Captain Jones walked the deck in deep meditation, while from their
various positions his crew watched him with curious glances. The
sailors well knew that Daph was still on board, but no one had dared to
question the captain’s orders for putting instantly out to sea.
Jeremiah Jones was a thorough republican, when at home in good old
Massachusetts; but once on board the Martha Jane, he ruled with the
despotic power of the Emperor of all the Russias. His crew were
accustomed to submission, and murmuring was never heard among them.
They had indeed no cause for discontent, for Captain Jones was just,
kind-hearted, and high-principled, and he wisely ruled his little realm.
The good captain had acted upon a sudden impulse, for promptness was
required, but now came a time for sober reflection.
“If the darky has not told the truth;” so reasoned he; “what has
Jeremiah Jones been doing? He has kidnapped a valuable servant and
carried off two children, belonging to a man who has the power and
wealth to make said Jeremiah suffer for his madness. The thing has
been done publicly, and these fellows of mine may think it for their
interest to deliver me up, as soon as I set foot in old Boston!”
These meditations did not seem to increase the peace of mind of the
worthy New Englander. He walked the deck impatiently for a few minutes,
and then drew near the objects of his anxious thought.
He put aside the canvas curtain, and stood for a moment in the clear
moonlight, watching the sleepers. Daph had thrown her arm protectingly
round the basket, and curled about it, as if conscious of her charge,
even in the deep slumber into which she had fallen. That long, earnest
look set the perturbed mind of the captain at rest, and again the
unwonted tears filled his large, gray eyes.
A state of indecision could not last long in such a mind as that of
Captain Jones, and his usually prompt, authoritative manner suddenly
returned to him. He seized a trumpet, and gave a shout of “all hands on
deck,” which soon brought his eager crew about him.
In a few words he told Daph’s fearful story, and then throwing aside
the awning, he exposed to view the sleeping forms of the negro and the
little ones, as he said:
“I have pledged myself to be a friend to those whom God has sent me to
take care of, my men, but if there is one among you who doubts that
faithful creature’s story, or who is afraid to lend a hand to save
those sweet throats from the murdering knives of those black rascals
on shore, let him stand out here, and speak for himself. Let him take
a boat, and put out for the island, while it is yet in sight. We don’t
want him here. He shall have his wages, and bounty too, for the master
he serves is likely to give him little comfort in the long run. Speak
out, men, will you stand by me, or will you go ashore?”
Every voice joined in the hearty cheer with which the captain’s words
were received. Rough hands were stretched out towards him, and he
responded to their warm grasp with a hearty shake, as one by one the
men came up to give him this token of their determination to help him,
in the good deed he had begun.
The cheer that was so welcome to the ear of Captain Jones had quite a
different effect upon poor Daph. She sprang to her feet in wild alarm,
and placing herself in front of her darlings, stood ready to do battle
in their behalf.
The men drew back, and Captain Jones hastened to explain to Daph
the hearty expression of good-will towards her, which had risen
spontaneously from the crew of the Martha Jane.
Daph’s apprehensions were soon quieted, and, at the suggestion of
the captain, she prepared to remove her darlings from their strange
resting-place to one of the small state-rooms below.
The children did not wake while she laid them gently in the berth,
and stretched herself beside them on the floor. Daph began to be
troubled at the soundness of their long-continued sleep. She raised
herself, and crouching near them, she watched them with ever-increasing
uneasiness.
Captain Jones was on deck, giving a last look to see that all was
right, before retiring for the night, when Daph came hastily up to him,
and laying her hand beseechingly on his arm, she said:
“O! Cap’in! I’se a-feard I’se just killed my pretty ones! dey do sleep
so. Dem was such little pills, dey didn’t seem as if dey could be so
mighty powersome!”
“Pills!” said the captain, with a start; “what have you given them?”
“I jus don’t know myself,” said Daph, desperately. “Daph had de
ear-ache mighty bad last week, and missus, dear creeter--she was always
so kind--she gibs me two little pills, and she says, ‘here Daph, you
take dese when you goes to bed, and you will sleep so sound, de pain
will all go way!’ I says, ‘tank’ee missus,’ of course, and she goes up
to de house quite satisfied. Daph nebber did take no doctor’s stuff,
so I puts de little pills in my pocket, and just roasts an orange
soft, and ties it warm outside my ear, and goes to bed, and sleeps
like a lizard. Now when I thinks of putting de children in de basket,
something says to me, ‘you gib dem dose little pills, Daph, dey’ll make
’em sleep sound ’nough.’ So, I’se just did like a poor, foolish darky.”
Here Daph began to cry piteously.
Captain Jones went immediately to the cabin. The natural color and
healthy breathing of the little sleepers soon assured him that all was
right.
“Courage! old girl!” said the captain, cheerily, “turn in yourself,
and I’ll warrant you the youngsters will be none the worse for your
doctoring!”
Thus consoled, Daph lay down again beside her charge, and the silence
of deep sleep soon prevailed, not only in the little state-room, but
throughout the Martha Jane, save when the measured steps of the watch
sounded out through the stillness of the night.