HOW BIG BLACK BURL FIGURED IN ORATORY.
Accordingly, the Fighting Nigger came forth, still bristling all over
with the trophies of victory and spoils of war--the three Indian rifles
now added to the rest. Mounting a low, wide poplar stump directly in
front of his cabin, he proceeded to give his colored brethren a
circumstantial account of all that had happened to him in the course of
his late adventure. As if the wonderful reality were not enough to
satisfy any reasonable lover of the marvelous, he must needs lug in a
deal that had not happened to him in the time, and never could have
happened at any time to anybody, excepting giant-killers,
dragon-fighters, and the like, whose exploits, though never witnessed by
mortal eye, have made such a noise in the world of fancy, fog, and
moonshine. Though he could confine himself to facts with modest brevity
when speaking of his achievements to white people--as we have already
noticed--the Fighting Nigger, it must be owned, was something of a
long-winded boaster, with a proneness to slide off into the fabulous,
when blowing his own trumpet for the entertainment of his colored
admirers, who bolted whatever monstrosity he might choose to toss into
their greedy chops. But let us be just. It was with no direct intention
of hoaxing or deceiving his hearers that he played the fabler; it was
simply a way he had of holding up a magnifying-glass, so to speak,
before their eyes, that he might help them to bring their imaginations
up to his own idea of the wonderful reality.
As the romancing went on, Grumbo, who had taken the stump likewise, sat,
with grim dignity, upon his haunches at his master's side, to lend his
countenance to the matter under consideration; presiding, as it would
seem, as chairman of the assembly. That such was the view he took of his
present position was evident from his manner; for, ever and anon, when
he saw their audience staggering under some marvel tossed too suddenly
into their gaping mouths, our chairman would fetch the stump a ratifying
rap of the tail, which said more plainly than his lips could have said
it: "A fact, gentlemen--fact. On the word of an honest dog, that, also,
strange though it may seem, is as true as all the rest my comrade has
told you. I myself was present and had a hand in the matter; therefore
ought I to know."
Now and then the speaker would be interrupted by his excitable listeners
with some exclamation of wonder, horror, incredulity, derision, pity, or
the like--which, being in Anglo-Congo or ebony lingo, must needs be
unintelligible to many of my readers. Therefore, for the enlightenment
and edification of the unlearned, have I thought it best to give a list
of the interjections and phrases in question, with the definition or
free translation of each, ignoring etymologies as smacking, just here,
of pedantry:
GLOSSARY.
GIT OUT--A cry of good-humored derision.
SHUCKS--Pshaw; nonsense; fiddle-sticks.
O HUSH--"You are too funny;" "You are too smart;" "You are a fool."
I YI--Hurrah; bravo; bully; well done: coupled with "my larky,"
equivalent to "Catch me at that if you can."
HOO-WEEP (followed by a whistle)--Expressive of unspeakable
astonishment.
OHO--A cry of exultation, translated into "Goody, goody!"
LAUS-A-MARCY--Shocking; horrible; dreadful: "My wool stands on end with
horror."
GOODNESS GRACIOUS--Used in a similar sense to the above, though in a
milder degree.
TSHT, TSHT, TSHT--An unspellable sound, produced by applying the tip of
the tongue to the palate with a quick suck at the air, repented three
times; translatable into, "What a pity, what a pity!" "O dear, O dear!"
LETTIN' ON--Making a pretense of; feigning; hoaxing.
H-YAH, H-YAH, H-YAH--Ha, ha, ha.
U-GOOH--An unspellable interjection pronounced, or rather produced, by
closing the lips and sending the sound through the nose, either forcibly
and suddenly with a quick taper, or the reverse with a quick, short
swell; or beginning gently, no bigger than a knitting-needle, and slowly
swelling to a certain degree, then suddenly flaring, like the mouth of a
dinner-horn. In short, varying according to the feeling or thought to be
expressed. Perhaps in the ebony lingo there is no word so frequently
used, and in senses so various, as U-gooh. Rendered into English, some
of the sentiments expressed thereby are the following: "Admirable!"
"Wonderful!" "O how nice!" "O how good!" "You astonish me!" "I admire
you!" "I highly commend you!" "I applaud you!" "I am listening--pray
proceed!" "What you tell me is very strange, nevertheless I believe
you!" "I have no words to express what I feel, therefore can only say,
'U-gooh!'"
What our black Munchausen told the ebony wonder-mongers of his great
adventure before and after the fight was such a jumble of marvels and
horrors as were hardly fitting to appear in a sober book like ours,
pledged to confine itself to possibilities, if not to facts. Where the
narrative should have been truest, if truly told, there the narrator was
wildest, drawing freely upon his imagination to fill up the wide gaps
between the few conspicuous incidents marking its setting out and
winding up. Gap number one was made interesting with bears; gap number
two, lively with panthers; gap number three, thrilling with wolves; and
where the war-path led into the shades of night, there the woods were
alive with ghosts. We shall, therefore, make our dip into the medley
just at that point where the narrator, having brought his listeners all
agape to the hazardous edge of ambush and battle subsides into the
possible; the story now rising of itself into the wonderful, and having
no great need of exaggeration or embellishment to make it spicy.
* * * * *
"Betsy Grumbo," ses I to my gun, "you mus' put lead through two ob de
varmints on de log, ef you cain't through all four." Bang barks Betsy;
up jumps all de Injuns, two falls back dead behin' de log, two goes
runnin' down de hill a-yellin' as ef de Ol' Scratch wus arter 'em wid a
sharp stick. ["H-yah, h-yah, h-yah!" Audience.] "I yi, you dogs!" says
I, lungin' out uf de bushes. "Whoo-oop!" yells big Injun, a-jerkin' his
tommyhawk out uf de tree and flingin' it whizz at my head. I knocks it
away wid my ax an' drives on. Here comes anudder a-whizzin'. Knocks dat
off, too, still a-drivin' on at 'im. "I yi, you dogs!" Anudder tommyhawk
ready to fly. I knocks dat out de big Injun's han'. Big Injun jumps
back'ards, I jumps for'ards, my ax high up an' ready fur a cleaver. No
chance fur big Injun; ef he starts to run, it's a split in de back; ef
he jumps to one side, it's a gash in de neck. De cleaver's a-comin'
down, when here, wid a duck uf de head, comes Injun right at me, his
shoulder under my arm. Down draps de ax, a-stickin' in de groun' atwixt
his heels. Bes' thing he could a-done fur hisse'f--cunnin' as a fox.
Den, ladies an' gen'lemen, we clinches, an' away we goes a-plungin' an'
a-whirlin'; through de bushes an' through de fire, roun' an' roun' de
logs, roun' an' roun' de trees, roun' an' roun' de hill. Now I tosses
'im up tel his heels kicked de lim's uf de trees, he's so long; but
eb'ry time I thinks I's gwine to bring him down kerwollop, down he comes
wid all his feet under him, like a cat. Activest thing I eber seed--he's
so long. Den he picks me up an' shakes me, dang-a-lang-a-downy-yo, as ef
I's nothin' but a string-j'inted limber-jack. But when I at's him ag'in,
to lock legs or kick ankles, dar he's 'way off yander, a-tippin' it on
his toes, like a killdee. No gittin' a-nigh him, he's so active, he's so
long.
By an' by I happens to look 'roun'. Dar's de dead varmint in de blue
coat an' ruffled shirt up ag'in, wid his gun on de log, an' p'intin'
right at my ribs. "Ouch!" ses I, an' flings Black Thunder atwix. Black
Thunder flings me back fur de pop. Back I flings him ag'in atwix. Den
him me ag'in, me him ag'in, an' all de time de dead varmint a-follerin'
us wid his gun, waitin' to pop my flanks. So, de dead varmint kep' me
watchin' so close, an' de live varmint kep' me movin' so fas', I didn't
know what I's doin', couldn't tell whar I's gwine. Dar I was, rammed
close up in a corner atwix a tree an' a log; no gittin' out, no flingin'
big Injun atwix. Dead varmint takin' his aim--finger on trigger, ready
to pull. "Burlman Rennuls," ses I to myse'f, "you's a goner," when dar
comes Grumbo a-pitchin'--no stoppin' to smell noses. One long lunge he
makes, one long, stretchin' lunge--sich a lunge I neber seed a dog make
befo'. 'Peared as ef he'd lef' his hin' parts way back yander, to git de
quicker at de varmint's throat wid his fo'parts. Back falls Injun, wid a
kick an' a yell; off goes gun, wid a kick an' a bang, the bullet
a-whizzin' right 'twix' our noses. "Ouch!" ses I. "Ugh!" says Black
Thunder. [Audience: "I yi!" "Oho!" "U-gooh!" See Glossary. It may have
been a coincidence, but just here Grumbo fetched the stump a ratifying
rap of the tail.]
Ah! ladies an' gen'lemen [patting his comrade-in-arms on the head], you
don't know how glad I wus to see dat dog. An' white folks say dat
Grumbo's got no humin feelin's. Git out! Den I takes a long bref, Grumbo
still a-holdin' fas' to de dead varmint. "Burlman Rennuls," says I to
myse'f, "de big Injun's too active fur you--too much like a cat fur you.
You cain't throw him down, but you kin let him throw you down; an' once
a-flat uf yo' back on de groun' you kin wollop him ober as easy as
turnin' a pancake, den chaw him up any way you please." So, I pushes him
hard--he pushes me back still harder--when down we comes, kerwollop,
chug--nigger below, Injun on top. But, in de shake uf a sheep's tail,
nigger comes up, Injun goes down. I grabs fur my knife. It's
gone--slipped out in de scuffle. Big Injun grabs fur his knife; dat's
gone, too. He jerks out his pipe an' breaks it in flinders ober my head.
"Ouch!" says I. I looks roun' fur somethin' good fur beatin' out brains,
an' dar lays my ax. I grabs it up, now ready fur a cleaver, an' no
mistake. Big Injun ain't, though; he ain't ready fur any sich a thing.
Up he comes wid a whirl, an' down I goes wid a fling, my ax a-flyin' way
out yander. But in de wriggle uf a buck's tail comes up nigger ag'in;
goes down Injun ag'in. Yes, an' a leetle mo' dan dat: nigger an' Injun
clean ober de turn uf de hill, an' now a-slidin', slidin' down whar it
wus steep as a house-ruff.
"Burlman Rennuls," ses I to myself, "whar you gwine? Dis ain't de sort
uf groun' fur you. You cain't manage de Injun here on de steep
hill-side--he's too active fur you; he's too long fur you; he's too much
like a painter fur you. Git to a lebel country, Burlman Rennuls; git to
a lebel country quick as you kin." Den I hugs him up tight in my arms,
an' locks him up tight in my legs, an' 'way down de steep hill, rollin',
rumblin', an' tumblin' we go--fus' nigger on top, den Injun'--ober an'
ober, fas'er an' fas'er. [The orator revolving his fists one round the
other with increasing rapidity.]
"Burlman Rennuls, whar you gwine?" Don't know whar, but dat we's rollin'
fas'er an' fas'er, an' dat we's startin' de rocks to rollin' too,
a-hoppin' an' pitchin' behin' us as ef dey's in fur a frolic. Now we's
all in a whirl down dar at de foot uf de hill, an' no lebel
country--nothin' but a leanin'-ober river-bank forty foot high. "Burlman
Rennuls, whar you gwine?" Don't know whar. But ober we pitches
a-whirlin' [throwing out one of the revolving fists at a tangent]--down
we draps into water full forty foot deep, kerslash; de rocks a-pitchin'
in arter us thick as hail. [Audience: "Laws-a-marcy!" "Goodness
gracious!" "Hoo-weep!" (with a whistle). After an impressive pause the
speaker, with an impressive gesture, resumed his exciting story.]
Now, ladies an' gen'lemen, you's thinkin' dat's de las' uf Burlman
Rennuls, an' dis his ghos' up here on de stump a-talkin' to you. 'T
ain't so: Burlman Rennuls pulled out; pulled out, I say. Ef he didn't he
wouldn't be up here a-tellin' you uf it. I ups an' looks roun', big
Injun ups an' looks roun'. I pulls fur big Injun, big Injun pulls for
lan'. Bes' swimmer; gits dar fus', an' ter keep me from landin' too,
'gins beatin' me back wid rocks, wid no more kunsideration fur de
feelin's uf a gen'leman dan ef I'd been a shell-backed tarapin. Whack
comes one uf de rocks on my head. "Ouch!" an' down I dives. "Burlman
Rennuls," ses I to myself, down dar in de bottom uf de riber, "whar ar'
you come to? Not whar you started to go. Dis ain't yo' lebel country.
Dis won't do. Big Injun too much fur you in water. Git out uf de water
quick as you kin. Two loaded guns up dar on top uf de hill. You scratch
out an' git de guns, an' yo' day's work's ober."
So, I ups ag'in; an' dis time under de leanin'-over bank, whar de
cane-brake wus, de roots uf de brake a-hangin' down 'mos' to de water.
Now comes de rocks ag'in, as thick as hail. Grabbin' de cane-brakes, up
I goes, han' ober han', han' ober han'. De rocks stop flyin'. I looks
behin' me to see fur why. Dar goes Black Thunder drivin' 'cross de riber
down at de riffle, makin' de water fly befo' him like a runaway hoss. O
my little marster! Up I goes, in double-quick time. Half way up I sees a
painter a-grinnin' down at me frum a tree on de bank. Didn't like his
looks, but climbed on.
[Here the speaker was interrupted by a voice from the audience: "Cap'n
Rennuls, see yer now; ain't you lettin' on?"]
You g' long! Who stops fur painters in a pinch like dat, or any thing
else? Ef I'd turned back den would I be here now to tell you uf it? Git
out! So, painter, or what not, up I scrabbles, ober de bank wid a tug,
an' through de brake wid a squeeze, tel dar I wus at de foot uf de hill.
O my little marster! [A woman's voice in the audience: "Tsht, tsht,
tsht! Pore little feller!" See Glossary.]
Up we goes a-scratchin'; pullin' at de bushes an' weeds an' grass ter
help us 'long, an' tearin' dem up, like flax on a rainy day. Injun has
furder ter go, but longer legs ter go wid. So he gits ter de top uf de
hill as quick as me--him nighest his gun, me nighest my ax. He's
reachin' his han' out fur de gun, my han' 's on my ax a'ready, an' at
him de ax goes whizzin', an' pops him plump on de hip, an' ober he
tumbles. I runs to pick up my ax, dis time ter give de tough varmint a
cleaver, or neber. He can't run, he can't crawl; but he kin wollop, an'
wollop he does, like a rooster wid his head cut off. In de flash uf a
gun-flint, dar he's wolloped hisse'f to de turn uf de hill. I sends my
ax wid a good-by arter him, an' gives him a gash in de arm to 'member me
by. He sends me back a grin an' a whoop, an' away big Injun goes rollin'
an' tumblin'. I grabs up a gun--his own gun it was--an' sends him a long
far'well. He sends back a yell--de o-f-f-ullest yell I eber heerd in all
my bo'n days; offul enough ter come frum a grave-yard. Out comes
spirtin' de blood, a-flyin' frum de rollin' body like water frum a
flutter-mill. Down to de foot uf de hill a-whirlin' he goes, tel ober de
bank uf de riber he pitches. An' dat's de las' I sees uf big Injun.
[Audience: "I yi!" "Oho!" "U-gooh!"]
"Burlman Rennuls," says I to myself, still p'intin' my gun at de bank,
"yo' day's work's done." But hain't hardly said it when, "Burl, Burl!"
ses Bushie; "Bow-wow," ses Grumbo; and "w-h-izz," ses a tommyhawk,
grazin' my nose an' stickin' itse'f in a tree by my side. [Here hurling
the identical tomahawk over the heads of the wincing listeners and
sinking it in a tree behind them. "Goodness gracious, Bu'lman Rennuls,
how you skeer a pusson!" exclaimed a finical female voice in the
audience. It may have been another coincidence, but just here Grumbo
fetched the stump another ratifying rap of the tail.]
I wheels about, an' dar's t'udder dead varmint up on his legs an'
a-comin' at me wid his knife, but Grumbo holdin' him back by de
coat-tail. "I yi, you dogs!" an' at him I go--grabs his knife, clinches
his throat, when down to de groun' we come--Injun, nigger, an' dog,
dog-fashion, all in a pile togedder.
["Cap'n Rennuls," said a voice in the audience, "ef de varmint wus a
dead one, how could he do all dat like a live one?"]
You g' long! Dat's none uf my lookout. Ef it wusn't as I tell you, would
de young Injun be dar in my doo' now, smokin' his pipe? Ef you won't
b'lieve me ax him; an' ef you can't take his word fur it, ax Grumbo.
[Audience: "H-yah, h-yah, h-yah!" "Shucks!" See Glossary. And here
again, too roundly and soundly for mere coincidence, Grumbo fetched the
stump a ratifying rap of the tail, that said as plainly as a dog's tail
ever said any thing: "Yea, and I'll swear to it."]
* * * * *
But we have followed our black Munchausen through the least wonderful
part of his story, as narrated by himself; and further than this, for
reasons already hinted, we dare not venture, the facts of the narrative
here beginning to grow tame again, and the narrator's fancies wide. So
we shall leave our lion to go on roaring it out into the ears of his
colored admirers to his heart's satisfaction, till he is empty and they
are full. At last, after blowing and puffing for nearly an hour in the
popular ear, the windy story, tapering off with a little facetious gas
designed for the ladies, found its way to an end, and dismissing his
audience with a majestic wave of his war-cap, Big Black Burl came down
from the rostrum.