A Yankee Girl at Fort Sumter Part 7

There was a little silence, and then the younger boy spoke.

"I wish they wouldn't sell d.i.n.kie. I hate to have her go. It isn't fair. Of course she feels bad to leave those little darkies of hers.

Jove!" and the boy's voice had an angry tone, "d.i.n.kie shan't be whipped! I won't have it. She used to be my mammy."

Suddenly Sylvia realized that she was listening, and ran down the steps toward the little lake which lay glimmering in the sun beneath the shade of the overhanging pepper trees. She ran on past the lake down a little path which led toward the pine woods. She no longer felt happy, and full of antic.i.p.ations of the surprise in store at the corn-shucking. All she could think of was "d.i.n.kie," a woman who was to be sold away from her children, and who was to be whipped because she rebelled against the cruelty of her master.

"It's because she's a slave," Sylvia whispered to herself. "I hate slavery. My father said Yankees always fought for what was right. Why don't they fight against slavery?" She quite forgot that Flora and Grace would wonder where she had gone, and be alarmed at her absence.

"I do wish I could see d.i.n.kie," she thought. "I wish I could do something to help set every slave free." Then she remembered that Philip had declared that d.i.n.kie should neither be sold nor whipped.

"I like Philip," she declared aloud, and was surprised to hear a little chuckling laugh from somewhere behind her, and turned quickly to find a smiling negro woman close behind her.

"I likes Ma.s.sa Philip myse'f," declared the woman, "an' I wishes I could see him jus' a minute," and her smile disappeared. "I'se shuah Ma.s.sa Philip won' let 'em sell d.i.n.kie, or lash her either," and putting her ap.r.o.n over her face the woman began to cry.

"He won't! I heard him say he wouldn't have it," Sylvia a.s.sured her eagerly. "Don't cry, d.i.n.kie," and she patted the woman's arm.

d.i.n.kie let her ap.r.o.n fall and looked eagerly at Sylvia.

"You'se the little Yankee missy, ain't you?" she questioned. "I hear say that Yankees don't believe in selling black folks."

"They don't; I'm sure they don't. I'll run right back and tell Philip you want to see him," replied Sylvia. "You stay right here by this tree," she added, pointing to a big live-oak.

"Yas, Missy, I thanks you," replied the woman.

Sylvia ran back toward the house as fast as she could go. She could see the ponies standing before the house, a small negro boy holding their bridle-reins. The girls were on the steps waiting for her.

"I mustn't let them know that d.i.n.kie wants to see Philip," she thought, as the girls called out that they had been looking everywhere for her.

At that moment the two boys came along the piazza.

"Philip is going to teach you how to mount, and how to hold your reins, Sylvia," said Flora.

Grace and Sylvia were to ride the white ponies, and Flora was to ride a small brown horse which her mother usually rode.

Philip came slowly down the steps. He looked very sober, and Sylvia was sure that he was thinking about d.i.n.kie. "I don't believe he thinks slavery is right," she thought, as Philip raised his cap, and asked if she was ready to mount "Snap," the pony which she was to ride.

Flora and Grace were already mounted, and trotted slowly off. Sylvia and Philip were alone on the driveway.

"d.i.n.kie wants to see you. She's waiting down by the oak, beyond the lake," said Sylvia. "And don't let her be whipped," she added.

The boy looked up at her quickly.

"Don't tell the girls that she sent for me," he replied. "d.i.n.kie shan't be whipped, or sold either." He did not thank Sylvia for her message, and she was glad that he did not. With a brief word of direction as to the proper manner of holding the reins, he turned toward the lake, and Sylvia's pony trotted slowly down the drive to where Flora and Grace were waiting.

Flora led the way past the stables, and down a broad path which led to the negro quarters. The ponies went at a slow pace, as Flora wanted to be sure that Sylvia was not afraid, and that she was enjoying her first ride.

"The corn-shucking will be here," she said, pointing with her pretty gold-mounted whip to a number of corn-cribs. "They will bring the corn in from the fields, and we will come down in good season."

"And the moon will be full to-night," said Grace, beginning to sing:

"'De jay-bird hunt de sparrer-nes', All by de light of de moon.

De bee-martin sail all 'roun', All by de light of de moon.

De squirrel he holler from de top of de tree; Mr. Mole he stay in de groun', Oh, yes! Mr. Mole he stay in de groun'--'"

Sylvia listened and smiled as she looked at the happy faces of her friends. But she could not forget d.i.n.kie, and wondered if Philip could really protect the unhappy woman from a whipping, and prevent her being sold away from her children.

As they pa.s.sed the cabins of the negroes the children ran out bobbing and smiling to their young mistress, and Flora called out a friendly greeting.

"Father's going to sell a lot of those n.i.g.g.e.rs," she said carelessly.

"They eat more than they're worth."

"But won't their mothers feel dreadfully to let them go?" ventured Sylvia. "Of course they will," declared Grace, before Flora could respond. "And I do think it's a shame. Did you know Uncle Robert is going to sell Estralla?" she asked turning to Sylvia.

Sylvia's grasp on the reins loosened, and she nearly lost her seat on the broad back of the fat pony.

"What for?" she questioned, thinking to herself that Estralla should not be sold away from her home and mother if she, Sylvia, could prevent it.

"Oh, Uncle's agent says she isn't of any use, and he can get a good price for her. He would have sold her last month if your mother had not taken her in. I expect Aunt Connie will be half crazy, for all her other children are gone," said Grace.

"We mustn't ride too far this time," Flora interrupted, "because it's Sylvia's first ride. Hasn't she done well? Do you suppose you can turn the pony?"

"Yes, indeed," answered Sylvia, drawing the left rein so tightly that the little pony swung round before Flora had time to give a word of direction. As they were now headed toward home "Snap" went off at a good pace, well in advance of the others. It was all Sylvia could do to keep her seat, but she was not frightened, and when the pony raced up the driveway and came to a standstill directly in front of the piazza steps she was laughing with delight. For the moment she had quite forgotten d.i.n.kie and Estralla.

CHAPTER VII

SYLVIA SEES A GHOST

"It was splendid," declared Sylvia as Grace and Flora dismounted and the three little friends entered the house. Flora's black "Mammy" was waiting for them on the piazza.

"Thar's some 'freshments fur yo' in de dinin'-room," she said; and the girls were glad for the cool milk and the tiny frosted cakes which a negro girl served them. Sylvia wondered if Flora ever did anything for herself; for there seemed to be so many negro servants who were on the alert to wait upon all the white people at the "big house."

"Come up to my room, girls, and rest until it's time to dress for supper," said Flora.

Flora's room was just across the hall from the one where Grace and Sylvia were to sleep. Instead of a small white bed like theirs there was a big bed of dark mahogany with four tall, high posts. The bed was so high that there was a cus.h.i.+oned step beside it. The portrait of a lady hung over a beautiful inlaid desk, and Flora pointed to it with evident pride.

"That's my great-grandmother; and her father built this house. My mother says that she was Lady Caroline, and that she was so beautiful that whenever she went to Charleston people would run after her coach just to look at her," and Flora looked at her companions expectantly, quite forgetting that she had told them the story before.

"Oh, Flora! Every time I come out here you tell me about your wonderful great-grand-mother," said Grace, "and you used to tell me that her ghost haunted this house."

"Well, it does," declared Flora.

Sylvia had never heard of Lady Caroline's ghost. "Do tell me about it, Flora," she urged.

There was a wide cus.h.i.+oned seat with many pillows beneath the windows, and here the girls established themselves very comfortably.

"Yes, tell Sylvia the story," said Grace, piling up several cus.h.i.+ons behind her back. "Of course it isn't true, but it's thrilling."