Uncle Tom's Cabin
“O, no,—of course not,—did I say they did?” said Cassy, with a smile of
chilling derision.
“But—did—have you really seen?—Come, Cass, what is it, now,—speak out!”
“You may sleep there, yourself,” said Cassy, “if you want to know.”
“Did it come from the garret, Cassy?”
“_It_,—what?” said Cassy.
“Why, what you told of—”
“I didn’t tell you anything,” said Cassy, with dogged sullenness.
Legree walked up and down the room, uneasily.
“I’ll have this yer thing examined. I’ll look into it, this very night.
I’ll take my pistols—”
“Do,” said Cassy; “sleep in that room. I’d like to see you doing it.
Fire your pistols,—do!”
Legree stamped his foot, and swore violently.
“Don’t swear,” said Cassy; “nobody knows who may be hearing you. Hark!
What was that?”
“What?” said Legree, starting.
A heavy old Dutch clock, that stood in the corner of the room, began,
and slowly struck twelve.
For some reason or other, Legree neither spoke nor moved; a vague
horror fell on him; while Cassy, with a keen, sneering glitter in her
eyes, stood looking at him, counting the strokes.
“Twelve o’clock; well _now_ we’ll see,” said she, turning, and opening
the door into the passage-way, and standing as if listening.
“Hark! What’s that?” said she, raising her finger.
“It’s only the wind,” said Legree. “Don’t you hear how cursedly it
blows?”
“Simon, come here,” said Cassy, in a whisper, laying her hand on his,
and leading him to the foot of the stairs: “do you know what _that_ is?
Hark!”
A wild shriek came pealing down the stairway. It came from the garret.
Legree’s knees knocked together; his face grew white with fear.
“Hadn’t you better get your pistols?” said Cassy, with a sneer that
froze Legree’s blood. “It’s time this thing was looked into, you know.
I’d like to have you go up now; _they’re at it_.”
“I won’t go!” said Legree, with an oath.
“Why not? There an’t any such thing as ghosts, you know! Come!” and
Cassy flitted up the winding stairway, laughing, and looking back after
him. “Come on.”
“I believe you _are_ the devil!” said Legree. “Come back you hag,—come
back, Cass! You shan’t go!”
But Cassy laughed wildly, and fled on. He heard her open the entry
doors that led to the garret. A wild gust of wind swept down,
extinguishing the candle he held in his hand, and with it the fearful,
unearthly screams; they seemed to be shrieked in his very ear.
Legree fled frantically into the parlor, whither, in a few moments, he
was followed by Cassy, pale, calm, cold as an avenging spirit, and with
that same fearful light in her eye.
“I hope you are satisfied,” said she.
“Blast you, Cass!” said Legree.
“What for?” said Cassy. “I only went up and shut the doors. _What’s the
matter with that garret_, Simon, do you suppose?” said she.
“None of your business!” said Legree.
“O, it an’t? Well,” said Cassy, “at any rate, I’m glad _I_ don’t sleep
under it.”
Anticipating the rising of the wind, that very evening, Cassy had been
up and opened the garret window. Of course, the moment the doors were
opened, the wind had drafted down, and extinguished the light.
This may serve as a specimen of the game that Cassy played with Legree,
until he would sooner have put his head into a lion’s mouth than to
have explored that garret. Meanwhile, in the night, when everybody else
was asleep, Cassy slowly and carefully accumulated there a stock of
provisions sufficient to afford subsistence for some time; she
transferred, article by article, a greater part of her own and
Emmeline’s wardrobe. All things being arranged, they only waited a
fitting opportunity to put their plan in execution.
By cajoling Legree, and taking advantage of a good-natured interval,
Cassy had got him to take her with him to the neighboring town, which
was situated directly on the Red River. With a memory sharpened to
almost preternatural clearness, she remarked every turn in the road,
and formed a mental estimate of the time to be occupied in traversing
it.
At the time when all was matured for action, our readers may, perhaps,
like to look behind the scenes, and see the final _coup d’état_.
It was now near evening, Legree had been absent, on a ride to a
neighboring farm. For many days Cassy had been unusually gracious and
accommodating in her humors; and Legree and she had been, apparently,
on the best of terms. At present, we may behold her and Emmeline in the
room of the latter, busy in sorting and arranging two small bundles.
“There, these will be large enough,” said Cassy. “Now put on your
bonnet, and let’s start; it’s just about the right time.”
“Why, they can see us yet,” said Emmeline.
“I mean they shall,” said Cassy, coolly. “Don’t you know that they must
have their chase after us, at any rate? The way of the thing is to be
just this:—We will steal out of the back door, and run down by the
quarters. Sambo or Quimbo will be sure to see us. They will give chase,
and we will get into the swamp; then, they can’t follow us any further
till they go up and give the alarm, and turn out the dogs, and so on;
and, while they are blundering round, and tumbling over each other, as
they always do, you and I will slip along to the creek, that runs back
of the house, and wade along in it, till we get opposite the back door.
That will put the dogs all at fault; for scent won’t lie in the water.
Every one will run out of the house to look after us, and then we’ll
whip in at the back door, and up into the garret, where I’ve got a nice
bed made up in one of the great boxes. We must stay in that garret a
good while, for, I tell you, he will raise heaven and earth after us.
He’ll muster some of those old overseers on the other plantations, and
have a great hunt; and they’ll go over every inch of ground in that
swamp. He makes it his boast that nobody ever got away from him. So let
him hunt at his leisure.”
“Cassy, how well you have planned it!” said Emmeline. “Who ever would
have thought of it, but you?”
There was neither pleasure nor exultation in Cassy’s eyes,—only a
despairing firmness.
“Come,” she said, reaching her hand to Emmeline.
The two fugitives glided noiselessly from the house, and flitted,
through the gathering shadows of evening, along by the quarters. The
crescent moon, set like a silver signet in the western sky, delayed a
little the approach of night. As Cassy expected, when quite near the
verge of the swamps that encircled the plantation, they heard a voice
calling to them to stop. It was not Sambo, however, but Legree, who was
pursuing them with violent execrations. At the sound, the feebler
spirit of Emmeline gave way; and, laying hold of Cassy’s arm, she said,
“O, Cassy, I’m going to faint!”
“If you do, I’ll kill you!” said Cassy, drawing a small, glittering
stiletto, and flashing it before the eyes of the girl.
The diversion accomplished the purpose. Emmeline did not faint, and
succeeded in plunging, with Cassy, into a part of the labyrinth of
swamp, so deep and dark that it was perfectly hopeless for Legree to
think of following them, without assistance.
“Well,” said he, chuckling brutally; “at any rate, they’ve got
themselves into a trap now—the baggage! They’re safe enough. They shall
sweat for it!”
“Hulloa, there! Sambo! Quimbo! All hands!” called Legree, coming to the
quarters, when the men and women were just returning from work.
“There’s two runaways in the swamps. I’ll give five dollars to any
nigger as catches ’em. Turn out the dogs! Turn out Tiger, and Fury, and
the rest!”
The sensation produced by this news was immediate. Many of the men
sprang forward, officiously, to offer their services, either from the
hope of the reward, or from that cringing subserviency which is one of
the most baleful effects of slavery. Some ran one way, and some
another. Some were for getting flambeaux of pine-knots. Some were
uncoupling the dogs, whose hoarse, savage bay added not a little to the
animation of the scene.
“Mas’r, shall we shoot ’em, if can’t cotch ’em?” said Sambo, to whom
his master brought out a rifle.
“You may fire on Cass, if you like; it’s time she was gone to the
devil, where she belongs; but the gal, not,” said Legree. “And now,
boys, be spry and smart. Five dollars for him that gets ’em; and a
glass of spirits to every one of you, anyhow.”
The whole band, with the glare of blazing torches, and whoop, and
shout, and savage yell, of man and beast, proceeded down to the swamp,
followed, at some distance, by every servant in the house. The
establishment was, of a consequence, wholly deserted, when Cassy and
Emmeline glided into it the back way. The whooping and shouts of their
pursuers were still filling the air; and, looking from the sitting-room
windows, Cassy and Emmeline could see the troop, with their flambeaux,
just dispersing themselves along the edge of the swamp.
“See there!” said Emmeline, pointing to Cassy; “the hunt is begun! Look
how those lights dance about! Hark! the dogs! Don’t you hear? If we
were only _there_, our chances wouldn’t be worth a picayune. O, for
pity’s sake, do let’s hide ourselves. Quick!”
“There’s no occasion for hurry,” said Cassy, coolly; “they are all out
after the hunt,—that’s the amusement of the evening! We’ll go up
stairs, by and by. Meanwhile,” said she, deliberately taking a key from
the pocket of a coat that Legree had thrown down in his hurry,
“meanwhile I shall take something to pay our passage.”
She unlocked the desk, took from it a roll of bills, which she counted
over rapidly.
“O, don’t let’s do that!” said Emmeline.
“Don’t!” said Cassy; “why not? Would you have us starve in the swamps,
or have that that will pay our way to the free states. Money will do
anything, girl.” And, as she spoke, she put the money in her bosom.
“It would be stealing,” said Emmeline, in a distressed whisper.
“Stealing!” said Cassy, with a scornful laugh. “They who steal body and
soul needn’t talk to us. Every one of these bills is stolen,—stolen
from poor, starving, sweating creatures, who must go to the devil at
last, for his profit. Let _him_ talk about stealing! But come, we may
as well go up garret; I’ve got a stock of candles there, and some books
to pass away the time. You may be pretty sure they won’t come _there_
to inquire after us. If they do, I’ll play ghost for them.”
When Emmeline reached the garret, she found an immense box, in which
some heavy pieces of furniture had once been brought, turned on its
side, so that the opening faced the wall, or rather the eaves. Cassy
lit a small lamp, and creeping round under the eaves, they established
themselves in it. It was spread with a couple of small mattresses and
some pillows; a box near by was plentifully stored with candles,
provisions, and all the clothing necessary to their journey, which
Cassy had arranged into bundles of an astonishingly small compass.
“There,” said Cassy, as she fixed the lamp into a small hook, which she
had driven into the side of the box for that purpose; “this is to be
our home for the present. How do you like it?”
“Are you sure they won’t come and search the garret?”
“I’d like to see Simon Legree doing that,” said Cassy. “No, indeed; he
will be too glad to keep away. As to the servants, they would any of
them stand and be shot, sooner than show their faces here.”
Somewhat reassured, Emmeline settled herself back on her pillow.
“What did you mean, Cassy, by saying you would kill me?” she said,
simply.
“I meant to stop your fainting,” said Cassy, “and I did do it. And now
I tell you, Emmeline, you must make up your mind _not_ to faint, let
what will come; there’s no sort of need of it. If I had not stopped
you, that wretch might have had his hands on you now.”
Emmeline shuddered.