My First Cruise Part 2

_Orphy_. I know it's not right to notice strangers, and to be sure the man's welcome, but, Amy, did thee ever see anybody take victuals like this Yankee?

_Amy_. Yes, but he didn't eat all he took, for I saw him slip a great chunk of bread and cheese into his pocket, and then a big piece of pie, while he was talking and making us laugh.

_Orphy_. Well, I think a man must be very badly off to do such a thing.

I wonder he did not ask for victuals to take away with him. He need not have been afraid. He must know that victuals is no object. And then he has travelled the roads long enough to be sure that he can get a meal for nothing at any house he stops at, as all the tinmen do. He must have seen us looking at his eating so much, and may be his pride is hurt, and so he's made up his mind, all of a sudden, to take his meals no more at people's houses.

_Amy_. Then why can't he stop at a tavern, and pay for his victuals?

_Orphy_. May be he don't want to spend his money in that trifling way.

Who knows, he may be saving it up to help an old mother, or to buy back land, or something of that sort? I'll be bound he calculates upon eating nothing to-morrow but what he slipped off from our table.

_Amy_. All he took will not last him a day. It's a pity of him, anyhow.

_Orphy_. I wish he had not been too bashful to ask for victuals to take with him.

_Amy_. And still he did not strike me at all as a bashful man.

_Orphy_. Suppose we were just in a private way to put some victuals into his cart for him, without letting him know anything about it!

Let's hide it among the tins, and how glad he'll be when he finds it to-morrow!

_Amy_. So we will; that's an excellent notion! I never pitied anybody so much since the day the beggars came, which was five years ago last harvest; for I have kept count ever since; and I remember it as well as if it was yesterday.

_Orphy_. We don't know what a hard thing it is to want victuals, as the Irish schoolmaster used to tell us when he saw us emptying pans of milk into the pig-trough, and turning the cows into the orchard to eat the heaps of apples lying under the trees.

_Amy_. Yes, and it must be worse for an American to want victuals than for people from the old countries, who are used to it.

After they had finished their milking, and strained and put away their milk, the kind-hearted little girls proceeded to accomplish their benevolent purpose. They took from the large wire safe in the cellar a pie, half a loaf of bread, and a great piece of cheese, and putting them into a basket, they went to the barn-yard, intending to tell their mother as soon as the tinman was gone, and not for one moment doubting her approval--since in the house of an American farmer, victuals, as Orphy justly observed, are no object.

As they approached the barn-yard they saw, by the light of the moon, the Yankee coming away from his cart, and returning to the house. The girls crouched down behind the garden fence till he had pa.s.sed, and then cautiously proceeded on their errand. They went to the back of the cart, intending to deposit their provisions, when they were startled at seeing something evidently alive moving behind the round opening of the linen cover; and in a moment the head of a little black child peeped out of the hole.

The girls were so surprised that they stopped short and could not utter a word, and the young negro, evidently afraid of being seen, immediately popped down its head among the tins.

"Amy, did thee see that?" asked Orphy in a low voice.

"Yes, I did so," replied Amy; "what can the Yankee be doing with that little n.i.g.g.e.r? and why does he hide it? Let's go and ask the child."

"No, no!" exclaimed Orphy, "the tinman will be angry."

"And who cares if he is?" said Amy; "he has done something he is ashamed of, and we need not be afraid of him."

They went quite close to the back of the cart, and Amy said, "Here, little snow-ball, show thyself and speak, and do not be afraid, for n.o.body's going to hurt thee."

"How did thee come into this cart?" asked Orphy, "and why does the Yankee hide thee? Tell us all about it, and be sure not to speak above thy breath."

The black child again peeped out of the hole, and looking cautiously round, said, "Are you quite sure the naughty man won't hear us?"

"Quite sure," answered Amy; "but is thee boy or girl?"

"I'm a little gal," replied the child; and with the characteristic volubility of her race she continued, "and my name's Dinah, and I'm five years old, and my daddy and mammy are free coloured people, and they lives a big piece off, and daddy works out, and mammy sells gingerbread and mola.s.ses-beer, and we have a sign over the door with a bottle and cake on it."

_Amy_. But how did this man get hold of thee, if thy father and mother are free people? Thee can't be bound to him, or he need not hide thee.

_Dinah_. Oh, I know, I ain't bounded to him; I expect he stole me.

_Amy_. Stole thee! What, here in the free state of Pennsylvania?

_Dinah_. I was out picking huckle-berries in the woods up the roads, and I strayed off a big piece from home. Then the tinman comed along, driving his cart, and I run close to the side of the road to look, as I always does when anybody goes by. So he told me to come into his cart, and he would give me a tin mug to put my huckle-berries in, and I might chuse it myself, and it would hold them a heap better than my old Indian basket. So I was very glad, and he lifted me up into the cart; and I choosed the very best and biggest tin mug he had, and emptied my huckle-berries into it. And then he told me he'd give me a ride in his cart, and then he set me far back on a box, and he whipped his creatur, and druv, and druv, and jolted me so, I tumbled all down among the tins.

And then he picked me up, and tied me fast with his handkercher to one of the back posts of the cart, to keep me steady, he said. And then, for all I was steady, I couldn't help crying, and I wanted him to take me home to daddy and mammy. But he only sn.i.g.g.e.red at me, and said he wouldn't, and bid me hush; and then he got mad, and because I couldn't hush up just in a minute, he whipped me quite smart.

_Orphy_. Poor little thing!

_Dinah_. And then I got frightened, for he put on a wicked look, and said he'd kill me dead if I cried any more, or made the least noise.

And so he has been carrying me along in his cart for two days and two nights, and he makes me hide away all the time, and he won't let n.o.body see me. And I hate him, and yesterday, when I know'd he didn't see me, I spit on the crown of his hat.

_Amy_. Hus.h.!.+ Thee must never say thee hates anybody.

_Dinah_. At night I sleeps upon the bag of feathers; and when he stops anywhere to eat, he comes sneaking to the back of the cart, and pokes in victuals (he has just now brung me some), and he tells me he wants me to be fat and good-looking. I was afeard he was going to sell me to the butcher, as Nac Willet did his fat calf, and I thought I'd axe him about it, and he laughed and told me he was going to sell me, sure enough, but not to a butcher. And I'm almost all the time very sorry, only sometimes I'm not; and then I should like to play with the tins, only he won't let me. I don't dare to cry out loud, for fear the naughty man would whip me, but I always moan when we're going through woods, and there's n.o.body in sight to hear me. He never lets me look out of the back of the cart, only when there's n.o.body to see me, and he won't let me sing even when I want to. And I moan most when I think of daddy and mammy, and how they are wondering what has become of me; and I think moaning does me good, only he stops me short.

_Amy_. Now, Orphy, what is to be done? The tinman has, of course, kidnapped this black child to take her into Maryland, where he can sell her for a good price, as she is a fat, healthy-looking thing, and that is a slave state. Does thee think we ought to let him take her off.

_Orphy_. No, indeed! I think I could feel free to fight for her myself; that is, if fighting was not forbidden by Friends. Yonder's Israel coming to turn the cows into the clover-field. Little girl, lie quiet, and don't offer to show thyself.

Israel now advanced--"Well, girls," said he, "what's thee doing at the tinman's cart? Not meddling among his tins, I hope? Oh, the curiosity of women folks!"

"Israel," said Amy, "step softly; we have something to show thee."

The girls then lifted up the corner of the cart-cover, and displayed the little negro girl, crouched upon the bag of feathers--a part of his merchandise which the Yankee had not thought it expedient to produce, after hearing Mrs Warner's anecdote of one of his predecessors. The young man was much amazed; and his two sisters began both at once to relate to him the story of the black child. Israel looked almost indignant. His sisters said to him, "To be sure we won't let the Yankee carry this child off with, him."

"I judge we won't," answered Israel.

"Then," said Amy, "let us take her out of the cart, and hide her in the barn, or somewhere, till he is gone."

"No," replied Israel, "I can't say I feel free to do that. It would be too much like stealing her over again; and I've no notion of evening myself to a Yankee in any of his ways. Put her down in the cart, and let her alone. I'll have no underhand work about her. Let's all go back to the house. Mother has got down all the broken crockery from the top shelf in the corner cupboard, and the Yankee's mending it with a sort of stuff like sticks of sealing-wax, that he carries about with him; and I dare say he'll get her to pay him more for it than the things are worth. But I say nothing."

The girls cautioned Dinah not to let the tinman know that they had discovered her, and to keep herself perfectly quiet; and they then accompanied their brother to the house, feeling very fidgety and uneasy.

They found the table covered with old bowls, old tea-pots, old sugar dishes, and old pitchers, the fractures of which the Yankee was cementing together, whilst Mrs Warner held the candle, and her husband viewed the operation with great curiosity.

"Israel," said his mother, as he entered, "this friend is making the china as good as new, only that we can't help seeing the join; and we are going to give all the mended things to thee."

The Yankee having finished his work, and been paid for it, said it was high time for him to be about starting, and he must go and look after his cart. He accordingly left the house for that purpose; and Israel, looking out at the end window, said, "I see he's not coming round to the house again, but going to try the short-cut into the back road. I'll go and see that he puts up the bars after him."

Israel went out, and his sisters followed him, to see the tinman off.

The Yankee came to the bars, leading his horse with the cart, and found Israel there before him. "Are you going to let down the bars for me?"

said the tinman.

"No," replied Israel, "I'm not going to be so polite; but I intend to see that thee carries off nothing more than belongs to thee."