Uncle Tom's Cabin
wicked man was coming to take little Harry away from his mother, and
carry him ’way off in the dark; but mother won’t let him—she’s going to
put on her little boy’s cap and coat, and run off with him, so the ugly
man can’t catch him.”
Saying these words, she had tied and buttoned on the child’s simple
outfit, and, taking him in her arms, she whispered to him to be very
still; and, opening a door in her room which led into the outer
verandah, she glided noiselessly out.
It was a sparkling, frosty, starlight night, and the mother wrapped the
shawl close round her child, as, perfectly quiet with vague terror, he
clung round her neck.
Old Bruno, a great Newfoundland, who slept at the end of the porch,
rose, with a low growl, as she came near. She gently spoke his name,
and the animal, an old pet and playmate of hers, instantly, wagging his
tail, prepared to follow her, though apparently revolving much, in his
simple dog’s head, what such an indiscreet midnight promenade might
mean. Some dim ideas of imprudence or impropriety in the measure seemed
to embarrass him considerably; for he often stopped, as Eliza glided
forward, and looked wistfully, first at her and then at the house, and
then, as if reassured by reflection, he pattered along after her again.
A few minutes brought them to the window of Uncle Tom’s cottage, and
Eliza, stopping, tapped lightly on the window-pane.
The prayer-meeting at Uncle Tom’s had, in the order of hymn-singing,
been protracted to a very late hour; and, as Uncle Tom had indulged
himself in a few lengthy solos afterwards, the consequence was, that,
although it was now between twelve and one o’clock, he and his worthy
helpmeet were not yet asleep.
“Good Lord! what’s that?” said Aunt Chloe, starting up and hastily
drawing the curtain. “My sakes alive, if it an’t Lizy! Get on your
clothes, old man, quick!—there’s old Bruno, too, a pawin’ round; what on
airth! I’m gwine to open the door.”
And suiting the action to the word, the door flew open, and the light
of the tallow candle, which Tom had hastily lighted, fell on the
haggard face and dark, wild eyes of the fugitive.
“Lord bless you!—I’m skeered to look at ye, Lizy! Are ye tuck sick, or
what’s come over ye?”
“I’m running away—Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe—carrying off my child—Master
sold him!”
“Sold him?” echoed both, lifting up their hands in dismay.
“Yes, sold him!” said Eliza, firmly; “I crept into the closet by
Mistress’ door tonight, and I heard Master tell Missis that he had sold
my Harry, and you, Uncle Tom, both, to a trader; and that he was going
off this morning on his horse, and that the man was to take possession
today.”
Tom had stood, during this speech, with his hands raised, and his eyes
dilated, like a man in a dream. Slowly and gradually, as its meaning
came over him, he collapsed, rather than seated himself, on his old
chair, and sunk his head down upon his knees.
“The good Lord have pity on us!” said Aunt Chloe. “O! it don’t seem as
if it was true! What has he done, that Mas’r should sell _him_?”
“He hasn’t done anything,—it isn’t for that. Master don’t want to sell,
and Missis—she’s always good. I heard her plead and beg for us; but he
told her ’t was no use; that he was in this man’s debt, and that this
man had got the power over him; and that if he didn’t pay him off
clear, it would end in his having to sell the place and all the people,
and move off. Yes, I heard him say there was no choice between selling
these two and selling all, the man was driving him so hard. Master said
he was sorry; but oh, Missis—you ought to have heard her talk! If she
an’t a Christian and an angel, there never was one. I’m a wicked girl
to leave her so; but, then, I can’t help it. She said, herself, one
soul was worth more than the world; and this boy has a soul, and if I
let him be carried off, who knows what’ll become of it? It must be
right: but, if it an’t right, the Lord forgive me, for I can’t help
doing it!”
“Well, old man!” said Aunt Chloe, “why don’t you go, too? Will you wait
to be toted down river, where they kill niggers with hard work and
starving? I’d a heap rather die than go there, any day! There’s time
for ye,—be off with Lizy,—you’ve got a pass to come and go any time.
Come, bustle up, and I’ll get your things together.”
Tom slowly raised his head, and looked sorrowfully but quietly around,
and said,
“No, no—I an’t going. Let Eliza go—it’s her right! I wouldn’t be the
one to say no—’t an’t in _natur_ for her to stay; but you heard what
she said! If I must be sold, or all the people on the place, and
everything go to rack, why, let me be sold. I s’pose I can b’ar it as
well as any on ’em,” he added, while something like a sob and a sigh
shook his broad, rough chest convulsively. “Mas’r always found me on
the spot—he always will. I never have broke trust, nor used my pass no
ways contrary to my word, and I never will. It’s better for me alone
to go, than to break up the place and sell all. Mas’r an’t to blame,
Chloe, and he’ll take care of you and the poor—”
Here he turned to the rough trundle bed full of little woolly heads,
and broke fairly down. He leaned over the back of the chair, and
covered his face with his large hands. Sobs, heavy, hoarse and loud,
shook the chair, and great tears fell through his fingers on the floor;
just such tears, sir, as you dropped into the coffin where lay your
first-born son; such tears, woman, as you shed when you heard the cries
of your dying babe. For, sir, he was a man,—and you are but another
man. And, woman, though dressed in silk and jewels, you are but a
woman, and, in life’s great straits and mighty griefs, ye feel but one
sorrow!
“And now,” said Eliza, as she stood in the door, “I saw my husband only
this afternoon, and I little knew then what was to come. They have
pushed him to the very last standing place, and he told me, today, that
he was going to run away. Do try, if you can, to get word to him. Tell
him how I went, and why I went; and tell him I’m going to try and find
Canada. You must give my love to him, and tell him, if I never see him
again,” she turned away, and stood with her back to them for a moment,
and then added, in a husky voice, “tell him to be as good as he can,
and try and meet me in the kingdom of heaven.”
“Call Bruno in there,” she added. “Shut the door on him, poor beast! He
mustn’t go with me!”
A few last words and tears, a few simple adieus and blessings, and
clasping her wondering and affrighted child in her arms, she glided
noiselessly away.
CHAPTER VI
Discovery
Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, after their protracted discussion of the night
before, did not readily sink to repose, and, in consequence, slept
somewhat later than usual, the ensuing morning.
“I wonder what keeps Eliza,” said Mrs. Shelby, after giving her bell
repeated pulls, to no purpose.
Mr. Shelby was standing before his dressing-glass, sharpening his
razor; and just then the door opened, and a colored boy entered, with
his shaving-water.
“Andy,” said his mistress, “step to Eliza’s door, and tell her I have
rung for her three times. Poor thing!” she added, to herself, with a
sigh.
Andy soon returned, with eyes very wide in astonishment.
“Lor, Missis! Lizy’s drawers is all open, and her things all lying
every which way; and I believe she’s just done clared out!”
The truth flashed upon Mr. Shelby and his wife at the same moment. He
exclaimed,
“Then she suspected it, and she’s off!”
“The Lord be thanked!” said Mrs. Shelby. “I trust she is.”
“Wife, you talk like a fool! Really, it will be something pretty
awkward for me, if she is. Haley saw that I hesitated about selling
this child, and he’ll think I connived at it, to get him out of the
way. It touches my honor!” And Mr. Shelby left the room hastily.
There was great running and ejaculating, and opening and shutting of
doors, and appearance of faces in all shades of color in different
places, for about a quarter of an hour. One person only, who might have
shed some light on the matter, was entirely silent, and that was the
head cook, Aunt Chloe. Silently, and with a heavy cloud settled down
over her once joyous face, she proceeded making out her breakfast
biscuits, as if she heard and saw nothing of the excitement around her.
Very soon, about a dozen young imps were roosting, like so many crows,
on the verandah railings, each one determined to be the first one to
apprize the strange Mas’r of his ill luck.
“He’ll be rael mad, I’ll be bound,” said Andy.
“_Won’t_ he swar!” said little black Jake.
“Yes, for he _does_ swar,” said woolly-headed Mandy. “I hearn him
yesterday, at dinner. I hearn all about it then, ’cause I got into the
closet where Missis keeps the great jugs, and I hearn every word.” And
Mandy, who had never in her life thought of the meaning of a word she
had heard, more than a black cat, now took airs of superior wisdom, and
strutted about, forgetting to state that, though actually coiled up
among the jugs at the time specified, she had been fast asleep all the
time.
When, at last, Haley appeared, booted and spurred, he was saluted with
the bad tidings on every hand. The young imps on the verandah were not
disappointed in their hope of hearing him “swar,” which he did with a
fluency and fervency which delighted them all amazingly, as they ducked
and dodged hither and thither, to be out of the reach of his
riding-whip; and, all whooping off together, they tumbled, in a pile of
immeasurable giggle, on the withered turf under the verandah, where
they kicked up their heels and shouted to their full satisfaction.
“If I had the little devils!” muttered Haley, between his teeth.
“But you ha’nt got ’em, though!” said Andy, with a triumphant flourish,
and making a string of indescribable mouths at the unfortunate trader’s
back, when he was fairly beyond hearing.
“I say now, Shelby, this yer ’s a most extro’rnary business!” said
Haley, as he abruptly entered the parlor. “It seems that gal ’s off,
with her young un.”
“Mr. Haley, Mrs. Shelby is present,” said Mr. Shelby.
“I beg pardon, ma’am,” said Haley, bowing slightly, with a still
lowering brow; “but still I say, as I said before, this yer’s a
sing’lar report. Is it true, sir?”
“Sir,” said Mr. Shelby, “if you wish to communicate with me, you must
observe something of the decorum of a gentleman. Andy, take Mr. Haley’s
hat and riding-whip. Take a seat, sir. Yes, sir; I regret to say that
the young woman, excited by overhearing, or having reported to her,
something of this business, has taken her child in the night, and made
off.”
“I did expect fair dealing in this matter, I confess,” said Haley.
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Shelby, turning sharply round upon him, “what am
I to understand by that remark? If any man calls my honor in question,
I have but one answer for him.”
The trader cowered at this, and in a somewhat lower tone said that “it
was plaguy hard on a fellow, that had made a fair bargain, to be gulled
that way.”
“Mr. Haley,” said Mr. Shelby, “if I did not think you had some cause
for disappointment, I should not have borne from you the rude and
unceremonious style of your entrance into my parlor this morning. I say
thus much, however, since appearances call for it, that I shall allow
of no insinuations cast upon me, as if I were at all partner to any
unfairness in this matter. Moreover, I shall feel bound to give you
every assistance, in the use of horses, servants, &c., in the recovery
of your property. So, in short, Haley,” said he, suddenly dropping from
the tone of dignified coolness to his ordinary one of easy frankness,