Cudjo's Cave Part 2

"Whipped! what for?" said Penn, losing no time in cutting the sufferer's bonds.

"Ye see," said Dan, when taken down and laid upon the ground, "the patrolmen found Combs's boy Pete out t'other night without a pa.s.s, and took him and tied him to a tree, and licked him."

The "boy Pete" was a negro man upwards of fifty years old, owned by the said Combs.

"Wal, ye see, jest cause I found him, and took him home with me, and washed his back fur him, and bound cotton on to it, and kep' him over night, and gin him a good breakfast, and a drink o' suthin' strong in the morning, and then went home with him, and talked with his master so'st he wouldn't git another licking,--just for that, Sile Ropes and his gang took me and served me wus'n ever they served him!" And the broken-spirited man cried like a child at the recollection of his injuries.

He was one of the "white trash" of the south, whom even the negroes belonging to good families look down upon; a weak, degraded, kind-hearted man, whose offence was not simply that he had shown mercy to the "boy Pete," after his flogging, but that he a.s.sociated on familiar terms with such negroes as were not too proud to cultivate his acquaintance, and secretly sold them whiskey. After repeated warnings, he had been flogged, and treated to a ride on a three-cornered rail, and hung up to reflect upon his ungentlemanly conduct and its sad consequences.

At sight of him, Penn, who knew nothing of his selling whiskey to the blacks, or of any other offence against the laws or prejudices of the community, than that of befriending a beaten and bleeding slave, felt his indignation roused and his sympathies excited.

"It's a dreadful state of society in which such outrages are tolerated!"

he exclaimed.

"_I_ say, dreadful!" sobbed Mr. Pepperill.

"The good Samaritan himself would be in danger of a beating here!" said Penn.

"I don't know what good smart 'un you mean," replied the weeping Dan, whose knowledge of Scripture was extremely limited, "but I bet he'd git some, ef he didn't keep his eyes peeled!" And he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

Penn smiled at the man's ignorance, and said, as he lifted him up,--

"Friend Daniel, do you know that it is partly your own fault that this deplorable state of things exists?"

"How's it my fault, I'd like to know?" whimpered Daniel.

"Come, I'll help thee home, and tell thee what I mean, by the way," said Penn, using the idiom of his sect, into which familiar manner of speech he naturally fell when talking confidentially with any one.

"I am stiff as any old spavined hoss!" whined the poor fellow, straightening his legs, and attempting to walk.

Penn helped him home as he promised, and comforted him, and said to him many things, which he little supposed were destined to be brought against him so soon, and by this very Daniel Pepperill.

This was the way of it. When it was known that Penn had befriended the friend of the blacks, Silas Ropes paid Dan a second visit, and by threats of vengeance, on the one hand, and promises of forgiveness and treatment "like a gentleman," on the other, extorted from him a confession of all Penn had said and done.

"Now, Dan," said Mr. Ropes, patronizingly, "I'll tell ye what you do.

You jine with us, and show yourself a man of sperrit, a payin' off this yer abolitionist for his outrageous interference in our affairs."

"Sile," interrupted Dan, earnestly, "what 'ge mean I'm to do? Turn agin'

him?"

"Exactly," replied Mr. Ropes.

"Sile," said Dan, excitedly, "I be durned if I do!"

"Then, I swear to gos.h.!.+" said Sile, spitting a great stream of tobacco juice across Mrs. Pepperill's not very clean floor, "you'll have a dose yourself before another sun, which like as not'll be your last!"

This terrible menace produced its desired effect; and the unwilling Dan was here, this night, one of Penn's persecutors, in consequence.

It was not enough that he had shown his "sperrit" by fetching the victim's own bed from his boarding-house, telling his landlady, the worthy Mrs. Sprowl, that Sile said she must "charge it to her abolition boarder." He must now show still more "sperrit" by bringing the tar. A well-worn broom had been borrowed of Mrs. Pepperill, by those who knew best how the tar in such cases should be applied: the handle of this was thrust by one of the men, named Griffin, through the bail of the kettle, and Dan was ordered to "ketch holt o' t'other eend," and help carry.

Dan "ketched holt" accordingly. But never was kettle so heavy as that; its miserable weight made him groan at every step. Suddenly the broom-handle slipped from his hand, and down it went. No doubt his laudable object was to spill the tar, in order to gain time for his benefactor, and perhaps postpone the tarring and feathering altogether.

But Griffin grasped the kettle in time to prevent its upsetting, and the next instant flourished the club over Dan's head.

"I didn't mean tu! it slipped!" shrieked the terrified wretch. After which he durst no more attempt to thwart the chivalrous designs of his friends, but carried the tar like a gentleman.

"This way!" said Silas, getting the escaped feathers into a pile with his foot. "Thar! set it down. Now, sir," throwing away his own coat, "peel off them clo'es o' yourn, Mr. Schoolmaster, mighty quick, if you don't want 'em peeled off fur ye!"

Penn gave no sign of compliance, but fixed his eye steadfastly upon Mr.

Ropes.

"I insist," said he,--for he had already made the request while the men were bringing the tar,--"on knowing what I have done to merit this treatment."

"Wal, that I don't mind tellin' ye," said Silas, "for we've all night for this yer little job before us. Dan Pepperill, stand up here!"

Dan came forward, appearing extremely low-spirited and weak in the knees.

"Is it you, Daniel, who are to bear witness against me?" said Penn, in a voice of singular gentleness, which chimed in like a sweet and solemn bell after the harsh clangor of Silas's ruffian tones.

Dan rolled up his eyes, hugged his tattered elbows, and gave a dismal groan.

"Come!" said Silas, bestowing a slap on his back which nearly knocked him down, "straighten them knees o' yourn, and be a man. Yes, Mr.

Schoolmaster, Dan is a-going to bear witness agin' you. He has turned from the error of his ways, and now his n.o.ble southern heart is a-burnin' to take vengeance on all the enemies of his beloved country.

Ain't it, Dan?--say yes," he hissed in his ear, giving him a second slap, "or else--you know!"

"O Lord, yes!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Dan, with a start of terror. "What Mr. Ropes says is perfectly--perfectly--jes' so!"

"Your heart is a-burnin', ain't it?" said Silas.

"Ye--yes! I be durned if it ain't!" said Dan.

"This man," continued Ropes, who prided himself on being a great orator, with power to "fire the southern heart," and never neglected an occasion to show himself off in that capacity,--"this individgle ye see afore ye, gentlemen,"--once more hitting Dan, this time with the toe of his boot, gently, to indicate the subject of his remarks,--"was lately as low-minded a peep as ever you see. He had no more conscience than to 'sociate with n.i.g.g.e.rs, and sell 'em liquor, and even give 'em liquor when they couldn't pay fur't; and you all know how he degraded himself by takin' Combs's Pete into his house and doin' for him arter he'd been very properly licked by the patrol. All which, I am happy to say, the deluded man sincerely repents of, and promises to behave more like a gentleman in futur'. Don't you, Dan?"

As Dan, attempting to speak, only gasped, Ropes administered a sharp poke in his ribs, whispering fiercely,--

"Say you do, mighty quick, or I'll----!"

"O! I repents! I--I be durned if I don't!" said Dan.

"And now, as to you!" Silas turned on the schoolmaster. "Your offence in gineral is bein' a northern abolitionist. Besides which, your offences in partic'ler is these. Not contented with teachin' the Academy, which was well enough, since it is necessary that a few should have larnin', so the may know how to govern the rest,--not contented with that, you must run the thing into the ground, by settin' up a evenin' school, and offerin' to larn readin', writin', and 'rithmetic, free gratis, to whosomever wanted to 'tend. Which is contrary to the sperrit of our inst.i.tootions, as you have been warned more 'n oncet. That's charge Number Two. Charge Number Three is, that you stand up for the old rotten Union, and tell folks, every chance you git, that secession, that n.o.ble right of southerners, is a villanous scheme, that'll ruin the south, if persisted in, and plunge the whole nation into war. Your very words, I believe. Can you deny it?"

"Certainly, I have said something very much like that, and it is my honest conviction," replied Penn, firmly.

"Gentlemen, take notice!" said Mr. Ropes. "We will now pa.s.s on to charge Number Four, and be brief, for the tar is a-coolin'. Suthin' like eight days ago, when the afore-mentioned Dan Pepperill was in the waller of his degradation, some n.o.ble-souled sons of the sunny south"--the orator smiled with pleasant significance--"lifted him up, and hung him up to air, in the crotches of two trees, jest by the edge of the woods here, and went home to supper, intending to come back and finish the purifying process begun with him later in the evenin'. But what did you do, Mr.

Schoolmaster, but come along and take him down, prematoorely, and go to corruptin' him agin with your vile northern principles! Didn't he, Dan?"

"I--I dun know" faltered Dan.

"Yes, you do know, too! Didn't he corrupt you?"