The Middy and the Moors by Robert Michael Ballantyne (new books to read TXT) 📖

did not reply.

"She's dumb!" said Peter quickly.

"Ah, poor thing!" returned Foster, in a voice of pity. "Deaf, too, I suppose?"

"Well, I don't know as to dat, Geo'ge."

"Is this one dumb too?" asked the middy, pointing to the coffee-hole.

"Oh dear no!" interposed Lilly. "Sally a'n't dumb; she's awrful sharp with 'er tongue!"

"She ought to be deaf anyhow, considering the row she kicks up down there!"

"Come now, Geo'ge, it's time we was goin'. So pick up de baskit an' go ahead."

Bidding Mrs Lilly an affectionate adieu, the two shaves left the cellar, to the intense relief of poor Hester, who scarce knew whether to laugh or cry over the visit. She had been so eagerly anxious to speak to Foster, yet had managed to keep her promise in spite of the peculiarly trying circumstances.

"Peter," said the middy, when they had got well out of the town on their way home, "what made you say `dumb' so emphatically when you descended into that cellar?"

"_Did_ I say `dumb?'" returned the negro, with an inquiring look at the clouds.

"You certainly did."

"'Phatically, too?"

"Yes, most emphatically."

"Well, now, das most remarkably strange!"

"Not so strange as my finding Hester Sommers in a coal-hole making golden slippers!"

At this Peter set down the basket, threw back his head, and took a prolonged silent laugh.

"Now dat _is_ de strangest t'ing ob all. Didn't I t'ink you not rignise her one bit!"

"Peter," returned the midshipman gravely, "you ought to know from experience that true love pierces every disguise."

"Das troo, Geo'ge," said Peter, as he lifted his end of the basket and resumed the journey. "Lub is a wonderful t'ing, an' I ain't sure what might come ob it if I was took unawares to see my Angelica arter she'd bin painted white. But dere's one t'ing as comforts me a leetle, an' dat is, dat Peter de Great ain't de biggest hyperkrite in de world arter all, for de way you purtended not to know dat gal, an' de way she purtended not to know _you_, hab took de wind out ob my sails altogidder!"


CHAPTER ELEVEN.


DANGERS, VICISSITUDES, ESCAPES, NEW SURROUNDINGS, HOPES, AND FEARS.

It was probably an advantage to Hester Sommers that she had been subjected to so severe a test at that time, for, not many weeks afterwards, she experienced a shock which put her powers of self-restraint to a much severer trial.

It happened thus. Sally and she were on their way home from market one day; the former with a large basket of vegetables on her head, and the latter with a lighter basket of oranges on her arm, for the use of the master at home. They had come to one of the wider of the narrow streets of the town, where the small shops were numerous, and the throng of passers-by was considerable--as also was the noise, for Jews, Moors, Cabyles, and negroes were conversing and jostling each other in all directions.

Presently a band of slaves approached, and, as it passed, Hester nearly fainted, for among them she beheld her father, with irons on his legs, and a shovel and pick on his shoulder.

"Father!" she exclaimed, in a faint voice, and, stretching out her arms, made an effort to run towards him.

Quick as lightning Sally grasped the situation, and, rising to the occasion with that prompt energy which betokens true genius, she seized Hester by the nape of the neck, hurled her to the ground, and sent her oranges flying in all directions! At the same time she began to storm at her with a volubility of invective that astonished herself as well as the amused bystanders. As for poor Hugh Sommers, the noise had prevented him from hearing the word "father!" and all that met his eyes was one black girl roughly using another. Alas! the poor man had been by that time so much accustomed to witness acts of cruelty that the incident gave him little concern. He passed doggedly onward to his thankless, unremitting toil, which had been rendered all the more severe of late in consequence of his despairing violence having compelled his drivers to put the heavy irons on his limbs.

Meanwhile Sally, having made Hester pick up some of the oranges, seized her by an arm and hurried her away. Nor did she desist scolding until she had her fairly down in the back regions of their cellar-home.

"I will never forgive you!" exclaimed Hester, with flashing eyes, doubling up her small fists, and apparently wishing that at least for one quarter of an hour she might be transformed into a female Samson.

"Oh yes, you will," returned the negress coolly; "you'll forgib me when I tells you dat I hab sab' your fadder's life, an' p'r'aps your own too!"

"How? What do you mean?" demanded Hester, relaxing her little fists slightly, though still coruscating in the region of the eyes.

"I means dat if you got hold ob yer fadder dat time, he bery likely grip you tight an' refuse to part wid you at no price ebermore; so den, ob course, dey tear him away, an' he kick up a shindy an' try to kill somebody--p'r'aps _do_ it! Oh, its's allers de way. I's oftin seen it wid the big strong men--an' your fadder am big. Dat was him, wasn't it, wid de broad shoulders an' de nice face--a leetle wild-like, p'r'aps, but no wonder--an' de grey beard?"

"Yes; that was him--my darling father!"

"Well, ob course dey take him away an' bastinado him till he die, or strangle him, or frow him on de hooks; an' dey take you right away back to Osman, or wuss. I doo'd it for de best, Geo'giana."

"Oh! Sally, dear, _dear_ Sally, forgive me! But it was such an awful disappointment to be hurried away so, _just_ as I saw him. I--I--am _very_ wicked, Sally, will you forgive me?" said poor little Hester, bursting suddenly into tears, throwing her arms round her friend's neck and kissing her.

"Forgib you, Geo'giana! Das not difficult to do, but I'll _neber_ forgib you if you go slobberin' like dat, an' dirtyin' my face wid your black cheeks. Dar now, I's got to polish you up again!"

This "polishing up," it may be remarked, was a duty which Sally was called on to perform rather frequently, in consequence of Hester's inveterate tendency to think of her father and shed tears! But her sable friend, whose stolid exterior concealed a wealth of affection, rather enjoyed the process of "polishing up," and while engaged in it broke out into quite eloquent dissertations as to the impropriety of washing one's face with tears when there was plenty of soap and water: coupled with earnest exhortations to "keep up heart," and recommendations not to "gib in," "neber to say die," and the like.

On this particular occasion the sympathetic Sally gave her friend inexpressible comfort by assuring her that, having at last seen her father and the gang to which he belonged, she could now easily follow them up and find out where they were set to work. "And so, Geo'giana," said she, in conclusion, "somet'ing may come ob dis meetin', p'r'aps more'n you t'ink."

Something certainly did come of it, as we shall see presently; but just now we must turn to another danger which threatened our English slave, and in regard to which the previous testing of her powers of self-restraint was but a trifle.

One morning Hester was seated in the usual corner, busily engaged with her embroidery, and with her mind still more busily employed in devising all sorts of impossible schemes for the deliverance of her father--for Sally had discovered the exact spot on the fortifications where Hugh Sommers was at work, and only prevented Hester from rushing out at once to see him by resolutely refusing for a time to tell where that spot was.

Mrs Lilly and Hester were alone at the time we refer to, Sally having gone out to the market.

"Dearie, I 'spec's Peter de Great dis arternoon," said Mrs Lilly, raising herself from a culinary pot to which she had been devoting her attention. "Dis am about de time he or'nar'ly comes to see you and tell you how de land lies. Now dat he knows you's seed your fadder, he'll likely hab somet'ing 'tickler to say to you."

"God grant that he may have something hopeful to suggest," said Hester, without looking up from her work.

"You may be sure dat prayer is answered, dearie, for you trust de Lord, an' no one does dat in vain."

As the woman spoke, the familiar voice was heard outside, "Hi, Missis Lilly! how's you all git along down dar?" At the same moment the opening to the street was darkened by Peter's bulky form as he descended the narrow stair.

Shaking hands with Hester, who rose eagerly to greet him, the negro was about to begin an earnest talk with her as to how she should act in regard to her father if she should again meet him, when a voice was heard that sent a deadly chill alike to the hearts of Hester and the negro.

"Is the cellar far from this?" asked the voice, which was that of Osman.

"No; here it is! Guard your feet; the second step is broken, and the place is rather dark," replied the owner of the house.

"Osman!" whispered Peter, glaring and clenching his fists in an agony of uncertainty how to act.

Mrs Lilly, however, black-woman-like, rose to the occasion.

"Go down dar, you black wretch!" she cried, thrusting Hester quickly down into the coffee-hole; "how you s'pose massa git his dollars if you not work? Go to work, or I'll skin you!"

Truly those negroes, male and female, seemed to possess most effective capacity for, and original methods of, coming to the rescue of their friends in moments of danger!

As Mrs Lilly uttered the last words the two visitors stood in the cellar. At the same instant the thud of the great pestle began, and so intelligently did Hester perform her part that the familiar gasp of Sally--admirably imitated--came up with every blow.

"What, Peter the Great! You here!" cried Osman, in extreme surprise.

"Yes, massa, I's here on a little bit ob business wid Missis Lilly. She's a fri'nd ob my sister Dinah," answered Peter humbly.

"Oh, indeed! With my father's permission, I suppose?"

"Yes, Massa Osman. I neber dar to come in de town widout your fadder's purmission."

Osman turned and addressed a few words in an undertone to the master of the house, who thereupon turned to Mrs Lilly.

"You are a wise woman, Lilly," he said, "so I have come to consult you. It seems that one of the slaves belonging to Ben-Ahmed of Mustapha has made her escape, and it is rumoured that she has taken refuge with some one in this very street, or in one not far from it. Now, as you are well acquainted with almost every one in the neighbourhood, I thought it best to come in the first place to you to ask your advice about the matter."

The gasp that came from the coffee-hole when this speech was made had something very real in it, and immediately