The Kidnapped And The Ransomed Part 6

Mary was fully determined that she would never leave him nor Lexington; and when in the December following his uncle's death, the young heir came from the South to remove his goods, and desired Aunt Mary to prepare for the journey, she revolted. They might kill her, she said, but she would not go--she indeed, would hang herself, and that would end it.

The young man coaxed, and threatened, but in vain. She liked Mars Levi--everybody liked him--a heap better than old Ma.s.sa; but as to leaving "Kaintucky," and going away to the South, she could not.

At last, finding that it was useless to attempt to remove her, Master Levi sold her, with her two boys, to his father,-- and she was left to spend the evening of her days in her beloved Lexington.

CHAPTER VII.

THE JOURNEY TO ALABAMA.

On a cold Sabbath morning, December 20,1818, Peter started with Master John Gist, a younger brother of "Mars Levi," for his new home in Alabama.

He wore his old master's broad-brimmed hat, and had his shot-gun lashed upon his back. Miss 'Maltha, the youngest daughter of Master William, came out just as they started, and with a kind smile gave him a handful of biscuits. Heaven bless her for the kindly thought! The memory of that simple gift is still warm in the heart of him who was then but a poor slave-boy, going forth to meet his uncertain fortunes amid scenes strange and new.

The farewells were all said, and the young men rode away--silently at first, for there were last words and affectionate charges from his parents, still ringing in the ears of Master John; and Peter's heart was full.

He left Lexington with few regrets. It had never seemed to him like home: though among the many families in which he had served, there were some who had treated him with great kindness. Yet the memory of his mother haunted him, and a sense of injustice and wrong, a consciousness that he had been stolen from home, and that the power to which he had been forced to submit was all usurped, prevented his forming a strong attachment to the place itself.

Now he had little hope of ever seeing any of his kindred except the dear brother that had gone before; and his heart grew lighter, as hour by hour the distance diminished between them. Alfred and Allison, too, he soon should meet, and they were very dear to him--for had they not suffered together?

Then came a heavy sinking of the heart at the thought, that he must thenceforth be exposed to all the reputed hards.h.i.+ps of the South.

The constant toil in the great cotton fields, the oppressive heat, the danger of fearful sickness, and the deeper dread of cruel overseers --all these fell upon his hopes like snow upon the violets that have peeped out too soon.

And oh! if after all these years his parents should come in search of their children, and they both be gone! No, no! he would not think of that--and giving old master's riding-horse a smart cut with his whip, he galloped on to overtake Master John.

Hour after hour the youths rode side by side; now conversing pleasantly about the country through which they were pa.s.sing, or reviewing little incidents connected with their departure from home; and again, their thoughts grew busy, and forgot to shape themselves in words. Day after day they still rode on one antic.i.p.ating a pleasant visit with his brothers, and a speedy return to all the endearments of a happy home--the other, hopeful, and yet half afraid to meet his destiny.

They spent the nights at houses of entertainment, which they found scattered here and there along the roadside. At these, they were received more like family visitors than guests at a hotel. Master John sat in the parlor by the blazing fire, and told the news from Lexington to his kind host, or listened to the history of the last year's crop. Peter, meanwhile, in the kitchen made himself no less agreeable. He had come from town, and could tell wonders to his less privileged auditors, who had seldom been out of sight of home.

The travellers arrived at Hopkinsville on Christmas morning. Here dwelt Dr. William Teagarden, whose wife was a maternal aunt of Master John, and at his house they spent the holidays.

This was a merry time. All the usual Christmas festivities were enjoyed, and Mrs. Teagarden, in addition to these, gave a large evening party in compliment to her nephew.

Here Peter had a fine opportunity to display his skill and grace as a waiter, and so highly pleased was Mrs. Teagarden with his expertness in this vocation, that she made several efforts during the next three years, to purchase him of his young master.

"Look yer, Peter," said a gossiping old woman, who stood among the other servants just outside the parlor-door, and who had been watching the dancers with intense interest, "your Mars John gwine fall in love wid dat young lady, I reckon. How you like her for missus?"

"What young lady you mean? I reckon Mars John ain't in no hurry to fall in love, no how."

"Why, Miss Agnes Keats. Dar! he's leadin' her to a cheer by her sister, Miss Frances. He's danced a'most all night wid her, and 'pears like he thinks she's mighty perty."

"She is that," said Peter, "does her father live about yer?"

"Yes, he's a livin' now; but he come mons's nigh gwine to de bad man where he 'longs. Didn't you hear 'bout it in Lex'n'ton? He's got a heap o' people on dem dar two big plantations, and he does 'em mighty mean. But it wasn't none o' de field hands 'at killed him."

"Killed him? You said he was a livin' now."

"So I did; but I'se gwine tell you how he kep' clar. You see, he allers keeps three or four to de home place to wait on de family--well, he was dat mean dey couldn't live in no sort o'

fas.h.i.+on; so two big men what staid round de house and garden, dey 'trive a plan to get enough to' eat, for one day, least-ways. Dey got hold de gun, and when de ole ma.s.sa done got settle nice in his bed, dey ris de gun up on de winder bottom, and pint it to his heart. But de ole cook 'voman--she hope um, kase she fotch out de gun, an'

lef' de winder open; she got mighty skeered 'bout her missus, and kep' tellin' 'em all de time dey's fixin' de gun, 'Now min' you don't hit missus--keep it clar o' missus.[' "]

"When dey got all fix, dey pull dat dar trigger-- Hi! didn't it pop?

but it didn't kill de ole ma.s.sa-- struck his ribs, I reckon. Well, de minute de ole cook 'voman year de gun, she lif' up her hands and fotch a big scream. 'O Lor'! I'll lay you's done kill missus, now!' ["]

"Every person on de place year dat yell, and all come a runnin' to see who's kill."

"What 'come of the men?" asked Peter, his blood chilled at the thought of the horrid deed.

"De men--O dey's hung. Dey had a little court; didn't take long to prove dey's guilty, kase you see dey got cotch, so dey hung 'em mons's quick."

"Did they hang the 'oman, too?"

"No, dey sol' her way off to de Coas'. Reckon she won't never hope no more sich work as dat. 'Pears like, it's mighty hard to have sich a mean ma.s.sa as ole Keats, but it's a heap wuss to try dis yer killin'

business. De Lor' don't low dat dar, no how.["]

"Dar! dat set's up. Mars John gwine lead Miss Agnes up for de nex'. How nice dat pa'r does look?"

On the morning of the third of January, Master John and Peter resumed their journey southward. They spent one night at Nashville, and one at Columbia, Tenn., and on the morning of the sixth, at eleven o'clock, they reached Bainbridge.

Peter's heart beat fast as he approached the spot that was thenceforth to be his home. Everything he saw looked strange and uncouth. The town, if such indeed it might be called, consisted of about thirty small log cabins, scattered here and there among the tall old forest trees. Groups of white-haired, sallow-skinned children were playing about the doors, or peeping slyly at the strange gentleman as he pa.s.sed. Now and then, between the trees, were seen the bright waters of the Tennessee, sparkling in the sunlight; but even they pursued their pleasant way in silence, as if reluctant to disturb the quiet of the place.

"Well, Peter," said Master John, "this is Bainbridge --how do you like the looks of the place?"

"Looks like 'taint a town, Mars John; I never knowed folks have a town in the woods."

Oh! the woods will be gone in a few years. Don't you see, many of these trees are dead now? They girdle them that way, and the next year they die."

"Whar's the store? Mars Levi say he got a store yer."

"Yonder it is--where that gentleman is sitting on the porch?"

"That the store! Don't look no bigger'n a kitchen! Whar Mars Levi live?"

"Here we are at his house, now." Master John sprang to the ground, and gave his horse to Peter, who with wondering eyes, was looking toward the house.

He could hardly believe that those two log cabins, with an open pa.s.sage between them, const.i.tuted Master Levi's residence in Alabama. "Ha!" thought he, "ole Mars Nattie say, they all gwine get rich out yer. What he say now, if he see his young gentlemen alivin' in a cabin in the woods among pore white folks."

He followed Master John into the house. No one was there. They went on to the kitchen, and with an exclamation of joy, old Aunt Peggy ran forth to meet them. "Mars Levi gone out huntin'," said she, "but I reckon Mars Andrew in do store--he's dar mostly. O, I's so glad to see somebody from de ole place!"

"Dar Peter!" cried she, as the sound of wheels was heard, "dar's my ole man with his wagon; he's gwine to do mill whar de boys is all to work."

A moment more, and Peter was in the wagon beside old Frank, hastening to the embrace of his brother Levin. He could hardly wait to answer all the old man's questions about home, and the dear friends he had left behind.

Very joyful was the meeting between the brothers. Few were the words they uttered--their hearts were too full for speech. Alfred and Allison, too, were there; the little group of true friends was once more complete.

After two weeks spent about the house, in a.s.sisting Aunt Peggy to cook, and in forming a general acquaintance with the premises, Peter was sent to the cotton field.

CHAPTER VIII.