FLIGHT.
The party of fugitives, which started for the north, was divided into
two bands. Harry, Lisette, Tiff, and his two children, assumed the
character of a family, of whom Harry took the part of father, Lisette
the nurse, and Tiff the man-servant.
The money which Clayton had given them enabling them to furnish a
respectable outfit, they found no difficulty in taking passage under
this character, at Norfolk, on board a small coasting-vessel bound to
New York.
Never had Harry known a moment so full of joyous security as that which
found him out at sea in a white-winged vessel, flying with all speed
toward the distant port of safety.
Before they neared the coast of New York, however, there was a change in
their prospects. The blue sky became darkened, and the sea, before
treacherously smooth, began to rise in furious waves. The little vessel
was tossed baffling about by contrary and tumultuous winds.
When she began to pitch and roll, in all the violence of a decided
storm, Lisette and the children cried for fear. Old Tiff exerted himself
for their comfort to the best of his ability. Seated on the cabin-floor,
with his feet firmly braced, he would hold the children in his arms, and
remind them of what Miss Nina had read to them of the storm that came
down on the Lake of Gennesareth, and how Jesus was in the hinder part of
the boat, asleep on a pillow. "And he's dar yet," Tiff would say.
"I wish they'd wake him up, then," said Teddy, disconsolately; "I don't
like this dreadful noise! What does he let it be so for?"
Before the close of that day the fury of the storm increased; the
horrors of the night can only be told by those who have felt the like.
The plunging of the vessel, the creaking and straining of the timbers,
the hollow and sepulchral sound of waves striking against the hull, and
the shiver with which, like a living creature, she seemed to tremble at
every shock, were things frightful even to the experienced sailor; much
more so to our trembling refugees.
The morning dawned only to show the sailors their bark drifting
helplessly toward a fatal shore, whose name is a sound of evil omen to
seamen.
It was not long before the final crash came, and the ship was wedged
among rugged rocks, washed over every moment by the fury of the waves.
All hands came now on deck for the last chance of life. One boat after
another was attempted to be launched, but was swamped by the furious
waters. When the last boat was essayed, there was a general rush of all
on board. It was the last chance for life. In such hours the instinctive
fear of death often overbears every other consideration; and the boat
was rapidly filled by the hands of the ship, who, being strongest and
most accustomed to such situations, were more able to effect this than
the passengers. The captain alone remained standing on the wreck, and
with him Harry, Lisette, Tiff, and the children.
"Pass along," said the captain, hastily pressing Lisette on board,
simply because she was the first that came to hand.
"For de good Lord's sake," said Tiff, "put de chil'en on board; dere
won't be no room for me, and 'tan't no matter! You go 'board and take
care of 'em," he said, pushing Harry along.
Harry mechanically sprang into the boat, and the captain after him. The
boat was full.
"Oh, do take poor Tiff--do!" said the children, stretching their hands
after their old friend.
"Clear away, boys,--the boat's full!" shouted a dozen voices; and the
boat parted from the wreck, and sunk in eddies and whirls of boiling
waves, foam, and spray, and went, rising and sinking, onward driven
toward the shore.
A few, looking backwards, saw a mighty green wave come roaring and
shaking its crested head, lift the hull as if it had been an egg-shell,
then dash it in fragments upon the rocks. This was all they knew, till
they were themselves cast, wet and dripping, but still living, upon the
sands.
A crowd of people were gathered upon the shore, who, with the natural
kindness of humanity on such occasions, gathered the drenched and
sea-beaten wanderers into neighboring cottages, where food and fire, and
changes of dry clothing, awaited them.
The children excited universal sympathy and attention, and so many
mothers of the neighborhood came bringing offerings of clothing, that
their lost wardrobe was soon very tolerably replaced. But nothing could
comfort them for the loss of their old friend. In vain the "little
dears" were tempted with offers of cake and custard, and every
imaginable eatable. They sat with their arms around each other, quietly
weeping.
No matter how unsightly the casket may be which holds all the love there
is on earth for us, be that love lodged in the heart of the poorest and
most uneducated, the whole world can offer no exchange for the loss of
it.
Tiff's devotion to these children had been so constant, so provident, so
absolute, that it did not seem to them possible they could live a day
without him; and the desolation of their lot seemed to grow upon them
every hour. Nothing would restrain them. They would go out and look up
and down, if, perhaps, they might meet him; but they searched in vain.
And Harry, who had attended them, led them back again, disconsolate.
"I say, Fanny," said Teddy, after they had said their prayers, and lain
down in their little bed, "has Tiff gone to heaven?"
"Certainly he has," said Fanny, "if ever anybody went there."
"Won't he come and bring us pretty soon?" said Teddy. "He won't want to
be there without us, will he?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Fanny. "I wish we could go; the world is so
lonesome!"
And, thus talking, the children fell asleep. But it is written in an
ancient record, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the
morning;" and, verily, the next morning Teddy started up in bed, and
awakened his sister with a cry of joy.
"Oh, Fanny! Fanny! Tiff isn't dead! I heard him laughing."
Fanny started up, and, sure enough, there came through the partition
which separated their little sleeping-room from the kitchen a sound very
much like Tiff's old, unctuous laugh.
One would have thought no other pair of lungs could have rolled out the
jolly Ho, ho, ho, with such a joyous fulness of intonation.
The children hastily put on their clothes, and opened the door.
"Why, bress de Lord! poppets, here dey is, sure 'nough! Ho! ho! ho!"
said Tiff, stretching out his arms, while both the children ran and hung
upon him.
"Oh, Tiff, we are so glad! Oh, we thought you was drowned; we've been
thinking so all night."
"No, no, no, bress de Lord! You don't get shet of Ole Tiff dat ar way!
Won't get shet of him till ye's fetched up and able to do for
yerselves."
"Oh, Tiff, how did you get away?"
"Laws! why, chil'ens, 'twas a very strait way. I told de Lord 'bout it.
Says I, 'Good Lord, you knows I don't care nothing 'bout it on my own
'count; but 'pears like dese chil'en is so young and tender, I couldn't
leave dem, no way;' and so I axed him if he wouldn't jest please to help
me, 'cause I knowed he had de power of de winds and de sea. Well, sure
'nough, dat ar big wave toted me clar up right on de sho'; but it tuk my
breff and my senses so I didn't farly know whar I was. And de peoples
dat foun' me took me a good bit 'way to a house down here, and dey was
'mazing good to me, and rubbed me wid de hot flannels, and giv me one
ting and anoder, so't I woke up quite peart dis mornin', and came out to
look up my poppets; 'cause, yer see, it was kinder borne in on my mind
dat I should find you. And now yer see, chil'en, you mark my words, de
Lord been wid us in six troubles, and in seven, and he'll bring us to
good luck yet. Tell ye, de sea han't washed dat ar out o' me, for all
its banging and bruising." And Tiff chuckled in the fulness of his
heart, and made a joyful noise.
His words were so far accomplished that, before many days, the little
party, rested and refreshed, and with the losses of their wardrobe made
up by friendly contributions, found themselves under the roof of some
benevolent friends in New York.
Thither, in due time, the other detachment of their party arrived,
which had come forward under the guidance of Hannibal, by ways and means
which, as they may be wanted for others in like circumstances, we shall
not further particularize.
Harry, by the kind patronage of friends, soon obtained employment, which
placed him and his wife in a situation of comfort.
Milly and her grandson, and Old Tiff and his children, were enabled to
hire a humble tenement together; and she, finding employment as a
pastry-cook in a confectioner's establishment, was able to provide a
very comfortable support, while Tiff presided in the housekeeping
department.
After a year or two an event occurred of so romantic a nature, that, had
we not ascertained it as a positive fact, we should hesitate to insert
it in our veracious narrative.
Fanny's mother had an aunt in the Peyton family, a maiden lady of very
singular character, who, by habits of great penuriousness, had amassed a
large fortune, apparently for no other purpose than that it should, some
day, fall into the hands of somebody who would know how to enjoy it.
Having quarrelled, shortly before her death, with all her other
relatives, she cast about in her mind for ways and means to revenge
herself on them, by placing her property out of their disposal.
She accordingly made a will, bequeathing it to the heirs of her niece
Susan, if any such heirs existed; and if not, the property was to go to
an orphan asylum.
By chance, the lawyer's letter of inquiry was addressed to Clayton, who
immediately took the necessary measures to identify the children, and
put them in possession of the property.
Tiff now was glorious. "He always knowed it," he said, "dat Miss Sue's
chil'en would come to luck, and dat de Lord would open a door for them,
and he had."
Fanny, who was now a well-grown girl of twelve years, chose Clayton as
her guardian; and, by his care, she was placed at one of the best New
England schools, where her mind and her person developed rapidly.
Her brother was placed at school in the same town.
As for Clayton, after some inquiry and consideration, he bought a large
and valuable tract of land in that portion of Canada where the climate
is least severe, and the land the most valuable for culture.
To this place he removed his slaves, and formed there a township, which
is now one of the richest and finest in the region.
Here he built for himself a beautiful residence, where he and his sister
live happily together, finding their enjoyment in the improvement of
those by whom they are surrounded.
It is a striking comment on the success of Clayton's enterprise, that
the neighboring white settlers, who at first looked coldly upon him,
fearing he would be the means of introducing a thriftless population
among them, have been entirely won over, and that the value of the
improvements which Clayton and his tenants have made has nearly doubled
the price of real estate in the vicinity.
So high a character have his schools borne, that the white settlers in
the vicinity have discontinued their own, preferring to have their
children enjoy the advantages of those under his and his sister's
patronage and care.[4]
Harry is one of the head men of the settlement, and is rapidly acquiring
property and consideration in the community.
A large farm, waving with some acres of fine wheat, with its fences and
out-houses in excellent condition, marks the energy and thrift of
Hannibal, who, instead of slaying men, is great in felling trees and
clearing forests.
He finds time, winter evenings, to read, with "none to molest or make
afraid." His oldest son is construing Cæsar's _Commentaries_ at school,
and often reads his lesson of an evening to his delighted father, who
willingly resigns the palm of scholarship into his hands.
As to our merry friend Jim, he is the life of the settlement. Liberty,
it is true, has made him a little more sober; and a very energetic and
capable wife, soberer still; but yet Jim has enough and to spare of
drollery, which makes him an indispensable requisite in all social
gatherings.
He works on his farm with energy, and repels with indignation any
suggestion that he was happier in the old times, when he had abundance
of money, and very little to do.
One suggestion more we almost hesitate to make, lest it should give
rise to unfounded reports; but we are obliged to speak the truth.
Anne Clayton, on a visit to a friend's family in New Hampshire, met with
Livy Ray, of whom she had heard Nina speak so much, and very naturally
the two ladies fell into a most intimate friendship; visits were
exchanged between them, and Clayton, on first introduction, discovered
the lady he had met in the prison in Alexandria.
The most intimate friendship exists between the three, and, of course,
in such cases reports will arise; but we assure our readers we have
never heard of any authentic foundation for them; so that, in this
matter, we can clearly leave every one to predict a result according to
their own fancies.
We have now two sketches, with which the scenery of our book must close.
FOOTNOTE:
[4] These statements are all true of the Elgin settlement, founded by
Mr. King, a gentleman who removed and settled his slaves in the south of
Canada.