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Mass' George: A Boy's Adventures in the Old Savannah, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 12 |
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_ CHAPTER TWELVE. After a time, with the boy seeming to watch defiantly beside the great fellow, the black revived sufficiently to swallow some bread soaked in wine-and-water; the dull, filmy look left his eyes; and at last he dropped off into a heavy sleep. "Shall we try and carry him up to one of the sheds, sir?" said Morgan. "No; the poor fellow has had a very narrow escape from death," replied my father; "and I do not know even now that he will recover. Fetch a few boards to lay against that bough, and tie the boat-mast up there, and fasten the sail against it, so as to act as a bit of shelter to keep off the sun. George, put some dry grass in a sack, and it will do for a pillow." We set about our task at once. "Lor' ha' mussy!" grumbled Morgan, "what a fuss we are making about a nigger. Pillows for him! Why don't master say, 'Get the best bedroom ready, and put on clean sheets'? I say, Master George, think he'd come off black?" But all the same Morgan worked hard, with the great drops of perspiration running off his face, till he had rigged up the shelter, the black sleeping heavily the while, but the boy watching every act of ours in a suspicious way, his eyes rolling about, and his lips twitching as if he were ready to fly at us and bite. "I know," said Morgan, all at once with a broad grin, as he was sloping some boards lately cut from a tree over the sleeping negro. "Know what?" I said. "What young sooty's a thinking. He's a young canny ball, and he believes we're going to make a fire and roast 'em for a feast." Whatever the boy thought, he had ceased to struggle to get away, but lay quite still with his arm stretched-out, so that he could touch the big negro, and he was in this attitude when my father came back from the house. "Yes, that will do," he said, approvingly. "Yes, sir, there won't be no sun get at him now. Think he'll come right?" "Yes, I hope so. Poor fellow!--if he has managed to live through the horrors of that slaver's hold, now that he has taken a turn for the better he may recover. He must have been a splendidly healthy fellow, and--" "Well, he arn't now, sir, anyhow," said Morgan. "What'll I do with young coal-box, sir? Better chain him up in the shed, hadn't I, or he'll be off?" My father did not reply for some moments, but stood watching the boy, as he lay with his bright eyes fixed on first one and then the other, like a wild creature ready to act on its defence. "He must have known a good deal of this negro," said my father, thoughtfully. "Go and slacken that rope." "If I do, sir, he'll go off like a 'coon, and we shall never see him again," said Morgan. "Did you hear my orders?" said my father, in the sharp military way in which he spoke sometimes. Morgan went to the ring-bolt, and began to unfasten the rope, when at the first quiver the boy half started up and remained crouching, ready to spring away. "Shall I go on, sir?" said Morgan. "Yes; slacken the rope sufficiently to let him reach the man." "He'll make a dash for it, Master George," grumbled Morgan. He was right, for the boy did make a dash as soon as he saw that the rope which tethered him to the tree was loosened, but only to creep close up to the negro, thrust his arm under his neck, and press close to his side. "I thought so," said my father. "Draw that rope from the shackles." "What, undo him altogether, sir?" "Yes." "Oh, all right, Master George," grumbled Morgan to me. "I could have leathered the young imp into shape, and made a labourer of him in time; but if your father likes to waste his money it is no business of mine." My father's back was towards us, and he was standing at some little distance so as not to startle the boy, who rose again, crouched, and looked wildly at us, as the rope which had been simply passed through the iron shackles began to run through a link till the end was drawn out, and run over the ground to where Morgan stood grumbling and coiling up the rope. "No, he will not," said my father, gravely. "There is something stronger than hempen rope to hold him, George, evidently. Unless I am much mistaken, he will not leave the poor fellow's side." "Ah, well, sir," said Morgan, as he hung the rope on the stump of a branch, "they're your niggers, and niggers _is_ niggers. I shouldn't trust 'em, and they'll cut and run." "If they do, my man, I shall be sorry," said my father, gravely, "for they may fall into worse hands than ours. We have no key to those shackles; could you turn them with a file?" "Little screwdriver may do it, sir?" said Morgan, thoughtfully. "Fetch it from the tool-chest," said my father, shortly; and Morgan went off grumbling something about waste of money. He was back in a short time, during which the black still slept, and the boy crouched by him watching us eagerly. "Now," said my father, "see if you can open those ankle-rings. No, no; I mean the man's." "But s'pose he's only shamming, sir, and jumps up, half kills me, and runs?" "I'll forgive him if he does," said my father, dryly, "for you are getting to be a very dictatorial, meddling, insolent servant, Morgan." "Well!" exclaimed Morgan. "Hear that, Master George, and after me following faithful all the way to these here wild shores. Ah, master, I didn't think you'd ha' said--Hi! Keep back, you young warmint!" For at the first movement of Morgan toward the sleeping black's feet, the boy sprang up and showed his teeth like a dog. "Stop! Keep back," said my father, and Morgan drew away, muttering something about a savage young tom wolf. "It is quite natural," said my father, "and strengthens my ideas. He thought his companion was going to be hurt." As my father spoke, he moved toward the boy. "Don't go anigh him without a stick, sir," said Morgan, hastily. My father did not notice the remark, but turned to me. "Be on your guard, George," he said; "but be firm, and I think the poor fellow will understand what you are going to do. Take the screwdriver, and try if you can unfasten the boy's anklets first." I obeyed, and advanced to the boy, whose aspect was rather startling; but I went down on my knees, and before he could fly at me I caught quickly hold of the chain which connected his legs. That made him pause for a moment, and look down sharply to see what I was going to do. He seemed to have some idea directly; and as luck would have it, the little square hole that was used to turn the screw was toward me, the screwdriver went in, and it turned so easily that I was able to open the filthy, rusty shackle, and set one leg free. The boy's head moved like that of a bird, as he looked first at his foot and then at me, and he stood quite still now, as I unscrewed the second anklet and took it off. "Throw the chains into the river," said my father. "No, no," cried Morgan; "they may come in handy." "For you?" said my father, with a curious smile. Splash! Went the iron rings and links, and the boy looked puzzled, but made no opposition as I knelt down hard by the sleeping negro's feet, and using the screwdriver as a key, opened both the anklets in turn, and pointed to them as they lay on the grass, looking hard at the lad the while. He stared at me stupidly for a few moments, and then in a curiously sullen manner stooped down, knelt down, and began to replace them on the sleeping man's legs. "No, no," I shouted; and the boy started away, flinching as if expecting a blow; but as I stood pointing down at the irons, he stooped once more and picked them up, looking at me wonderingly again, but as I pointed to the river a flash of intelligence came from his eyes, and he whisked the irons over his head, and cast them right out into the stream. "Now fetch him something to eat," said my father, as the boy crouched down by the man's head again under the shelter. I went for some bread, and after a long time managed to make the boy take it; but he only snatched it up after the fashion of a wild animal, and ate it voraciously. "There," said my father at last; "leave them now. I dare say the poor fellow will sleep for hours, and it will be the best thing for him. Don't go far away, George; and if you find that he wakes, try and give him some bread soaked in that thin French wine." "Well," said Morgan, as soon as my father had gone back into the house, "you don't catch me saying any more about it; but your father gave a lot o' money for them two, and they might ha' been useful on the plantation; but you mark my word, Master George, that there big nigger 'll begin to open first one eye and then the other when we aren't looking; then him and the boy 'll slip into the boat, and a'most afore we know it, look you, they'll be gone." "Nonsense, Morgan!" I said. "Nonsense! Why, no, my boy, I reckon it's madness. If master didn't mean to have slaves why did he buy them?" "To save them from being ill-treated." "Ill-treated?" said Morgan, scornfully; "why, they're only niggers." "Well, they're men, Morgan." "Dunno so much about that, Master George. They're blacks, that's what they are, and everybody but master buys 'em to work on the plantations. I did think master was going to be sensible at last. Only slaves!" "How would you like to be a slave, Morgan?" "Me, Master George? Well, you see I couldn't be. I aren't a black. There, I've got lots to do, and can't stand talking here. These weeds 'll be all over my garden again directly. You're going to stop, I s'pose?" "Yes." "Well, call me if they seize the boat. We can't let 'em have that. When they do go, they'll have to swim." So Morgan went off to his hoeing, and I stopped under the shade of the big magnolia to keep my long watch. _ |
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