As performed at the Queen's Theatre, October, 1856.
—Nankeen frock coat and trowsers.
—White jacket, trowsers, &c.
— Red shirt, black arms and leggings; conical cap and feather, leopard's skin pouch, mocassins.
—Shirt and trowsers, with coloured patches.
Dark jacket and trowsers.
—Striped jacket, vest, and trowsers.
—Long -tailed blue coat, broad striped trowsers.
—Pages' jacket, short coloured trowsers.
—Grey jacket and trowsers.
—Striped jacket and shirt.
—Plain silk dress.
—Plain dark dress; turban.
—Brown skirt and jacket. 2nd dress,large striped skirt, &c , small bonnet, with different coloured feathers.
.—Vulgar patterned muslin dress, red and yellow shawl, green bonnet.
—Brown frock.
APARTMENT LOOKING ON PLANTATION.
The Slaves' enjoyment interrupted — A black sprite fond of dancing — A negro's idea of fun — A tale of sorrow — Woman, man's best comforter — Hope is the best — Sudden arrival of Tom Gordon, the slaves' new master — The threat of vengeance — The blow returned The escape of Harry — Let loose the bloodhounds.
Chamber in Gordon's Mansion
A negro in love—Jim feels the effects of his late en- counter—Milly saves Lisette from the foul designs of Gordon.
OPEN COUNTRY WITH VIEW OF TIFFS DWELLING.
Appearance of Dred.
The Old Log Hut.
Poor old Tiff and the children — A mother-in-law not very fond of the brats—The whip—The fearful struggle and leap for life — The fugitives saved by Dred — Defeat of Tom Gordon.
DISTANT VIEW OF THE PLANTATION.
The hidden document discovered — The resolve.
PORTION OF THE PLANTATION.
Meeting of Jim and Katy.
Dense Wood near the Swamp.
Tiff's devotion—The sleeping children—The alarm— The hounds are out—The departure for the Swamp.
COMMENCEMENT OF THE JUNGLE.
The pursuit — Arrival of Tom Gordon and his Slaves. The document forced from Milly — She is struck to the earth — Determination of Hark.
THE GREAT DISMAL SWAMP.
[With the secret winding path amid the death-threatening pit and treacherous bog—one step to the right or left from the track is assured destruction. In this Scene the whole of the stage will be thrown open, and every resource of scenic and mechanical effect introduced to give due effect to the novel and harrowing catastrophe.]
Dred's retreat—The fugitives protected—The heroism of Hark—The will discovered, and—
Destruction of the Villain Gordon!
Lazy, good for nothing black rubbish, how dare you be idling and chattering here ? away with you or the whip and your backs shall very soon become intimately acquainted.
Iss, missee—tank'ee, missee.
Poor dear Nina, during her lifetime spoiled them all by her over indulgence, but when Tom Gordon has taken possession of the estate I warrant they will find the difference. But where is that little scapegrace Tomtit ? I told him to bring me some tea, but he is the most graceless, incorrigible rascal—
Here I is, Missus.
Will you be quiet, oaf, and put the tray on the table.
Iss, missus.
Dere, now, missus, oo hub been and gone and break de teacup. Oh, missus, for shame ob ooself.
Oh, oo stoopid ole missus, now oo hab been and gone and burnt oo finger—he, he, he !
You bad boy—you have been at your old tricks, placing the handle, instead of the spout of the teapot to the fire.
Now, hab I dough—shouldn't wonder, 'cause I always gets so boddered dat I don't know which am de handle, and which am de spout—he, he,
Ah ! you'll never come to any good.
But, tell oo what, missus, if de handle am hot, missus, take hold ob de spout
and pour de tea out ob de handle—he, he, he !
The rogue will drive me crazy—aad now, I declare, he has brought me no sugar.
Beg pardon, Mrs. Nesbit, can you tell me where to find Harry ?
No, my dear, he is here, there, and everywhere, for poor Nina left her affairs in such perplexity that he has enough to do to get them straight, and, as Tom Gordon will be here to-day—
Poor Miss Nina, to be taken off so young, and so suddenly—and Tom Gordon, my husband says, is such a bad man.
Ay ! from boyhood the brothers, for they are brothers, never
agreed, and I fear that now—
Oh, missus, here am bran new bonnet, big as last Wen'sday week come for oo.
Put it down yonder out of the way.
You little villain !
Oh Harry, how sad you seem
And not without reason, dear Lisette, Tom Gordon will presently be here.
Well, why should you fear—are you not brothers ?
Yes, dearest! but Tom Gordon was born free— his mother was the
wife of Colonel Gordon, and a white woman— my mother was a
slave—her son is a slave—and yet my father loved me, educated me, so reared me,
that now I am like the bat in the fable, neither bird nor beast; when Colonel
Gordon died, he left this estate to poor Nina, another to Tom, and left, also,
his command that Nina should be kept ignorant that I was her brother.
Why not have told me this before, dear Harry.
For reasons which you will ere long comprehend. The colonel on his dying bed told me that he had given a sealed paper to Nina, which was not to be opened until she had attained the age of twenty-one, and when that period arrived I should find, he said, that he had done me full justice; till then, he desired that I should manage the estate for Nina as a servant, and a slave.
What could have been his motive ?
He feared that, rendered free, I might become as bad as Tom, who, almost from
his cradle, had been a curse to his parents, and to all surrounding him. Poor
Nina, though she knew not I was her brother, yet loved me like one, would have
given me freedom, but, of course, dared not—nor did I desire that she should,
for I felt certain that the paper left by my father, Colonel Gordon, would give
me that and an ample provision—but who can foresee the decrees of
And the document left by the colonel—
Can nowhere be found. Up to the present moment vain has been every search, and, in default of that paper, Tom Gordon claims this estate, and will presently arrive to take possession ; he hates, has ever hated me—is a bold, bad man,- caring naught for ties of blood, and I am his slave.
Horrible!
And you, Lisette, my adored wife, are also his slave; for the deed that would have rendered you free, lacks poor Nina's signature, which was to have been appended on the very morning she died. You see plainly now, do you not, the horrors of our situation, and will no longer wonder that I am sad ?
Yes, I perceive that we have no hope save in the discovery of the document left by Colonel Gordon.
Yes, one other hope, Dred.
Dred !
Ay, should Tom Gordon's oppression, as I fear, become too hard to bear, then we will escape to the Great Dismal Swamp—join Dred and the revolted slaves, and patiently await the moment when we may strike the blow that shall give us liberty.
Your father, had he loved you, would not have left your freedom to chance.
Oh, the love that fathers have for such as me is not like the love
they feel for their white children; they are half ashamed of us, and quite
ashamed to show their love if they have it. Oh! how often I have wished that I
were a good honest black nigger, then I should know what I was; now, I am
neither one thing nor the other, I come just near enough to the condition of the
white man to look into it, and to appreciate it. I have been educated as a
gentleman, and am left a slave, and a slave to a devil, who will delight in
goading me to despair.
Dear Harry, we will hope for the best, hope, and pray.
Out ob de way oo niggers—him Massa, Misser Tom Gordon am come, him use him whip too, break oo eye, and black oo nose, he, he, he ! him reg'lar debil,
Stop your noise, you infernal niggers; no whooping and dancing now I am your
master, but work, work, and plenty of it—and hark ye, use it, mark that, and now,
look at me well! I'm your master— witness my signature.
Hold your prate, you black thief.
Now who are you ?
You know well I am your brother.
Brother ! I know nothing about that—you are one of my niggers, my slave, that's all I know. Do you mark ? My slave! and by every devil that ever reigned you shall soon find that I'm your master.
You know your father intended I should be free, that the paper left in Nina's hands—
What paper! Where is it? I know nothing about papers—know only that you are my slave—that this estate is now mine, and you no longer cock of the walk; and dare so much as lift a finger to countermand one of my orders and I'll put a bullet through your head as soon as I would a buck's. If my niggers don't look sharp, they'll find out whether I am master or not, you see I give you fair warning.
And I give you warning that one day
Sons of the same father, you hate me because I most resemble Colonel Gordon, hate me for my superiority, because, even as a schoolboy I ever distanced you. I know that for years you have been thirsting to wreck your cowardly revenge on me, and you are now exulting in the belief that you have the power to torture a brother who never injured you, and whom by every human tie you should be bound to love.
You are not my mother's son, and I acknowledge you only as my slave.
Beware, lest the slave become the master, for better than you am I, to govern; my intellects are clear, thine clouded by drunkenness and debauchery, and my skin is no darker than thine, why then should I be a slave ? My mother descended from a noble race—
Was by the treacherous white man sold into captivity.
That is well said to the woman whom your father loved, who bore him children—children all torn from me save this only one. Oh, Harry, better your father had made you work like a field negro than give you the education that he did and leave you under the foot of every white man that pleases to tread upon you.
Oh, sir, use nobly the power with which Heaven hath seen fit to entrust you, and a happy heart, and an approving conscience will be your blest reward.
Ah! Who is this pretty quadroon ?
I—I am Harry's wife, sir.
And, like him, my slave; is't not so ?
Alas, yes.
You are too pretty to belong to a nigger ; you will have to give her up,
Master Harry, for I need a housekeeper.
How, Tom, to your master! let that, you damned nigger, teach you better manners.
Jim! Where is that fellow ? he made a'pintment with me, and he ain't a kept it, so glad that his master has brought him here, 'cause as massa Tom Gordon has sold me to Mrs. Leclerc, we shall always be close to one another—quite contagious I may say.
Oh, lawks a mercy, that ooman has dished ebery one ob him jints. An ! Missee
Katy, him so bery glad to see oo 'cause oo is so—so—
Massa Jim, that's a very resulting speech, and if you don't mind I shall cast you off, infect you for somebody else.
Oh, Katty, don't oo do dat, 'cause him do doat on oo, better dan him lub pumpkin pie, but him being bery ill oosed, and bery much terrumfied, don't him look pale ?
Yes, as pale as a blackbeetle.
Blackbeetle—oo nassy beast, dat animal black as de debil, and eberybody say Jim's 'plexion bery indelicate—blackbeetle got four ugly legs, Jim got on'y two, but den dey's booties.
Yes, Jim, they'd make lubly corkscrews.
Now, Missee Katy, him seriosly defended mind oo, oo don't talk 'tall like a gentleman. But, oh, golly, here am Massa Tom Gordon—out ob de way, Katy.
Mercy ! Mercy!
Mercy, yes, perhaps! Hark ye, girl, I have taken a fancy to you, besides, it
would be the best revenge I could have on Master Harry, so promise not to be
squeamish and I will be merciful; I'll not pursue the fellow, there ;
he shall make his way unmolested to the Swamp, or to the devil if he likes.
And would you make the wife's dishonour the price of her husband's safety ?
Psha! What can dishonour a nigger ? do you forget that you are my slave, and
must obey me in everything—do you understand, in everything ? Think you
then that I shall sue for that which is my right, which I can claim, and you
dare not deny ? no half measures for me, where I hate, I hate ; and when I say
revenge, I mean it.
Oh! you are some fiend permitted to wander o'er the earth to torture and destroy. Oh, be merciful and kill me.
Kill! No, I'll use, then sell you, hunt to the death your husband, Master Harry, and as I shoot him down, will yell into his ear the fate that has befallen his charming wife.
Villain, let me pass.
No, you must be taught obedience to your master.
Away, girl!
Back, woman, nor interfere with that which don't concern you—she is my slave.
Thou art the slave of the arch-fiend, and bravely dost thou perform his work.
Dare to follow, and I'll send thee to thy master.
Curse her—she would not dare—Stop, you infernal hag, or—
Oh, oh! do you want to kill me ? oh, oh. I'm very ill.
Away, you jade—I see, you are in league with those other women.
Don't know what you mean.
Leave go, girl, or this whip—
You Jim! why the devil didn't you stop that girl—-run.
Run—iss, massa !
What are you about ?
Don't know, massa, oo told him to run and him a doin' on it, hard as eber him
can, massa.
Oh you nasty great coward.
No—no ! I must not fly—my wife—what would be her fate ? here I must skulk around like a partridge in the bushes, and all for what ? because my younger brother chooses to domineer over me, and strike me, and insult my wife; and because the laws will protect him in it, if he does it. Who knows what he'll be saying and doing to Lisette while I am gone? I'll go back and face him like a man. Let him look out, he has but one life any more than I have. Oh, for some one to counsel me how to act—if Dred, now, were but here—
Behold him! So, Master Harry, it has at last come to your turn—your
master struck you. Ay, I know all. How mean you—to kiss the rod—be meek
and lowly—bend your neck, and ask to be struck again —wilt say to him—" When
thou art tired of my wife, I pray you restore her to me."
Dred, Dred, you are raising the devil within me.
Obedience in everything is, you know, the slave's creed. Hast thou not hid
thine eyes from the oppression of our people—have not our wives been
for a prey, and thou hast not regarded—hath not our cheek been given to the
smiter—have we not been counted as sheep for the slaughterer ? Go! you sleep in
a curtained bed, I, on the ground in the Dismal Swamp—you eat of the fat of the
land, I what ravens bring me, but no man whips me, no man touches my
wife—you are a slave, I, a free man—free, by this—
I, too, will be free, but for my wife—
Harry! oh, Heaven be praised.
How got you here ?
Your mother, Harry, rescued me; the ruffian was about to strike me.
Dastardly wretch! but a time shall come—
Ah ! now you are aroused—I read it in your eye. On to the hut of good old Tiff, there await my coming to conduct you to the Swamp. Fear not, Harry, ere long the slaves will be the masters, and our feet shall rest upon the necks of our oppressors
Oh, Harry, what a sad change is this? what fearful misery is before us ?
Ah ! we are pursued.
Let us on, then, we will reach the Great Dismal Swamp, or die on the road,
Oh, Tiff, Tiff, you ole fool—you mem'ry all gone—here you keep on rockin' de
cradle, and de poor filly piccaniny what used to lie in it am dead and buried,
and de moder, too, am gone—dere,
so hungry.
And dere's a bit ob nice plum cake for oo—ole Tiff keep him word oo see.
Father ought to be ashamed of himself to use us so now that we have lost poor
mother, and—
No, Teddy, it is not a shame, my little man, him gone up dere, to Heaven, and dere him am now, 'mong all de angels, and some day, if we'm wery good, p'rhaps we see lilly baby broder once more agin.
Oh, I will be good then.
And dear mamma, Uncle Tiff, shall we see her again ?
We'll never do so any more, Uncle Tiff.
Ise better now, Teddy, and we'll behabe like men arter dis.
Yes, that we will, Uncle Tiff.
She don't know what she's talking about— it's only you and me, Uncle Tiff, that's men. Girls can't never be men, can they, Uncle Tiff?
I wonder whether father will ever come back.
I'm sure I don't want him to, he ill-used poor mamma, and I won't have him for my father any longer, and I won't mind a word he says.
Teddy! Teddy! Dat am bery wrong, oo farder is oo farder, do him eber so bad,
and oo know,
You are our parents, Uncle Tiff, for if it wasn't for you, father would put us in the pit hole along with poor mama, and baby, I know he would.
Whateber habben, chil'en, al'ays rebember dat oo young lady and gentleman, for do oo moder did marry Misser Cripps, who am nobody, yet she b'long to de fam'ly of de Peyton's, de Peyton blood in oo veins, rebember dat, neber forget dat oo is ob de Peyton blood—ole Tiff, too, him b'long to the fam'ly eber since him born, so course him Peyton, too.
I wish I belonged to somebody that would give me something nice for supper.
Well, well, who knows ? oo got rich 'lations 'bout som'eres, and p'rhap some ob dese ere days dey leabe oo loads of money, on'y tink ob dat, ah, den—
Then we'd take care of you, Uncle Tiff, and give you as much as ever you could eat, wouldn't we, Fanny?
Ah, that we would, and instead of these old patched clothes, we'd dress you all over gold and diamonds.
Oh, dear ! father has come back.
And we was so happy—oh, dear!
Now then, wake up here, I've come back, you see—thought I was dead—I dare say, but, ha, ha! Not dead, only married. Ha, ha, ha!
Yes, married, you old crow. I thought I'd bring the children a mother to take
care of them.
Don't like you at all, and I won't have you for my mother.
No, my mother was a lady.
And what the devil am I! Not a gentleman, am I ? Ha, ha ! ,
Do you hear, go and kiss your new mother.
I won't—don't want a new mother ; uncle Tiff is our father and mother, too, now.
Told you how it would, be—told you I didn't want no brats of t'other woman's ; plague enough when I get some of my own. Come here and kiss me, and be cursed to you.
Come here, you young rips, or I'll break every bone in your unruly carcases.
Keep off—oo shan't touch 'em—oo arn't got the right; oo isn't no ooman—oo'm a she debil! and if de chil'en's own fader 'on't pertect 'em, den Tiff will— 'pend 'pon it him will as long as him got a bit ob breath, left in him poor ole body.
Very pretty. Cripps, didn't you tell me this old nigger was to be my property, to do as I liked with ?
Ole Tiff neber struck afore ; and if it warn't for de chil'en de disgrace ud kill him. De Peytons neber strike him, neber. Ooman, de cuss ob Heben will fall heaby on oo 'art for usin' duss de on'y purtector ob de poor moderless, and wuss dan faderless, chil'en.
Cripps, if you don't thrash him I'll go straight back to my mamma, and never come near you again.
Cripps. Never you fear, Poll, I'll give the old thief a lesson shall teach him better than preach disobedience to my children.
They will not return to molest you; or if they should, only say that you need but raise your voice to summon me, and they'd as soon hang themselves as touch a hair of your head.
I don't know who you are—but you are a first- rate fellow ; and only wait till I am a man, that's all.
Tiff, Harry Gordon and his wife will presently be here; bid them wait my
coming, which will not be long —I mistake, or there will be more work for me to
do. Daily and hourly are my feelings harrowed and lacerated at the cruelties
that I witness, and my dreams made frightful by the appalling recollection; but
the poor slaves have dared to raise their manacled hands to Heaven and have been
heard. The avenger is at hand —ere long our tyrants will tremble, will prostrate
their coward forms before him, and, in their turn, will wildly, vainly shriek
for mercy!
Dat am a man—got a 'art for all dat him on'y a nigger, and rewolted nigger, too. What, if dey got de chance dey would shoot or hang widout marcy.
He's a real good fellow—didn't he make father jump ?
Hush, chil'en, hush ! he is oo fader—
They are at our heels.
Conceal and save us.
Harry, him got no where to hide oo.
'Tisn't likely; we're too wide awake for that.
Massa Harry, down here—'hind him chair; p'rhaps dey not see oo.
Where are they ?—Quick!
Oh, dere now, massa—oo joggle him arm and de niddle gone in him finger.
Him don't know what oo mean. If oo lost anyting, go and find him—him got noting to say to oo.
Then I'll have something to say to you.
String him up, I say.
There will come a day when all this shall be visited upon you ; the measure you have filled to us, shall be filled to you double, mark my words.
Ah, I thought you weren't far off. Now we'll see whether you'll acknowledge
me for your master. Do you see this?
I won't kneel to my younger brother.
Oh, won't you ? wait a bit! And you think to keep your wife out of my way, don't you ?—we shall see. Come, where is she ? Quick ! Where is she ? I say.
All right! Secure her.
Drag him away!
Dred!
Ay, Dred, the Avenger!
Come, try a drop, Tom—it can't hurt you, man.
I tell you I daren't yet, curse it! and that's where it is—as I very seldom go sober to bed, you may be certain that I feel the miss of the stuff; but I must have my arm well, 'tis not far off, now—for I have work to do, on which I have set my heart.
Ah, you are a formidable adversary, and I would caution the abolitionists to avoid you, because, though you sometimes fail in argument, yet you always conquer by the cudgel and the bludgeon.
Ay, those are arguments there's no resisting. You, sir,
You are bound to have the fellow; publish a proclamation of outlawry, and offer a reward for his head, that will bring it in I'm thinking.
Ay ! his head would be better than nothing, but if I could only catch him alive, and make an example of him ! I'd take him the long way round, that I would ; the fellow has been an eye-sore to me ever since I was a boy. I believe all the devils that are in me are up about him.
Tom, you've got the devil in you—no mistake.
To be sure I have; I only want a chance to fetch him out; I wish I could get hold of the fellow's wife; I could make him wince there, I guess. I'll get her too, before long. But the fact is, Kite, they are with that fellow Dred, and his lair has not been discovered.
I know it, and that's a pity; for he has got a lot of runaways with him, and they mean mischief.
Oh, I shall have them; now, look ye here, Kite, one of my niggers, Hark—you know the growling, discontented vagabond. Well I have found out that he is in league with Dred and his set, has been in the habit of conducting runaways to Dred, so of course he knows the safe path across the Swamp.
Good ! I see.
Well, the fellow bolted himself the other day, but Jim Bokes nabbed and brought him back—you may be sure I gave him a taste of the whip.
Why didn't you shoot him as an example ?
Couldn't afford it; you see, he's a strong, able bodied nigger, and worth a trifle, so I have promised him all sorts of things if he will only conduct me to Dred's lair.
And he has promised ?
Of course he has, and when he has kept his word I'll keep mine, though not perhaps exactly in the way that he understood it—the canting, whining thief.
Well, good day, I must go now, I shall expect soon to hear that you have got your grip on Master Harry—and, then, lawks a mercy on him, that's all.
Ay, I'll tear him limb from limb, and his friend, too, Master Dred, to whom I am indebted for this splendid arm; I'll burn him from the earth, and scatter his ashes to the wind.
Now, you black cur, where have you been again ? you are always sneaking off somewhere—are you trying to bolt—eh, dog ?
Don't oo call him dog, massa, 'cause him specable nigger.
Arn't I a kind master, you black scum?
Him was saying dat oo de best massa as neber was, and dat him lub oo bery
much.
You say, then, that I am a kind master.
Iss ! bless oo 'art.
Then, there—
Iss, tank oo, kind massa.
And now, once more, where have you been ?
Iss, massa! him been to meetin'—him gettin' bery pious, massa—bilin' all ober wid beligius feeling
Meeting, eh? I don't believe it. What was the text?
Yes—quick—out with it, or—
Text, massa? him war de—de ninety-fourth chapter ob Jerusalemum.
Oh, was it ? and what were the words ?
De words, massa—him know dem ebery one.
Quick, then, let's have them.
Dey was—"Ye shall seek in the mornin' and ye shall not find me."
Pah ! you haven't been to meeting at all.
Oh, yes, him hab, massa.
Iss, massa! bless oo, massa, oo de kindest and de bestest, and de fondest,
and de—
Now, then, for the Dismal Swamp, and Master Harry—
Now, why come you here ?
To remind you once again that Harry is your father's son, and that, had the colonel's will been found—
You will preach in vain—I am all devil now— have sworn to snatch
from your son—my slave —his darling wife, and after, to scourge the
life out of him.
You know, now, what to expect and are satisfied I hope.
Mark my words, Tom Gordon, and, as you value life, forbear. The cup of your
iniquity is filled unto the brim.
Oh, Massa Gordon, him found this purty box in Misseh Nina's room dat was.
Ha!
Ah! she is gone, and only just in time. Now, you young Tomtit; you found the box, you say ?
Iss, massa, him hab bit ob play up in Missee Nina's room, ben, all at once,
him happin kick agin de wainscot and him fly open, and him see dis lilly box,
And mind, not a word of this, or—
Him neber say noting, massa.
If this box, now, should contain the lost document—shouldn't wonder—'twould
be a glorious slice of luck.
Now all is secure.
Now, it my 'pinion, and nobody never said I was a 'ceited gal, that 'bout these parts there isn't no female young woman half as handsome, nor half as boofully dressed as this gal; and then I'm sich a lovely figger. Oh, didn't the white trash look at me as I comed along! They just did neither.
Oh, Katy! oh—what a pictur oo is, oo'm a blaze ob booty, and make him feel all ober like—like dat ere sun what am up dere in de funnyment 'mong de lot ob stars what de men ob skyence call de consternation.
Well, really, Master Jim, that's a wery purty nobservation. Oh, Jim if my missus was to buy you of your master, we might be married unimedgently, and have a grand wedding party, what the great folks call a sore eye.
Sore eye! Dat dere ain't de name, it's a swaddy.
Tother's the improper grammeretical pronounshiashun of the word. But, Jim, don't you think your master would sell you cheap ? Tain't as if you was bran new, you know he took you for debt, so you are only a second-hand nigger.
What oo mean—why oo consult me like dat ere ? him brim full of slingdignashun.
No imperence, Misser Jim, please remember we am not equals, and that I'm quite stewperior to you.
Oh, get out wid oo-—I is all ober ob a booful black, oo is nothing more dan whiter brown.
Go 'long, you second hand nigger.
Ain't Ise good as new, look at de polish ob de article, but don't let we row one 'noder, cause we am goin' some day to lead one 'noder to de halter.
Well, Massa Jim, I bears no malice, and you know I've got a detachment for
you, and you shouldn't take no disadvantage of my infection. Oh, ah!
And him don't feel so bery strong; and if you don't stand up, Katy, him most afeared him let oo go down bang wallop.
I'm a good deal better now, Jim, quite discovered.
Him berry glad to hear it, and now him go, 'cause him got to go wid Massa Tom Gordon arter Harry.
Tom Gordon is a ruffian, a perfect civillion, and missus shall buy you from him, Jim; she will, 'cause she 'ticlarly impartial to me, and you'll have a very good time ob it.
Him ain't bery pertickler, so long as him do nothing and get plenty to eat and drink for doin' on it, him neber complain.
Glad to see you am of a contented indisposition, Jim.
Iss, bery—and den we go to de church, and hab one anoder for betterer, or p'rhaps a good deal worserer.
Weary, footsore, hungry, here dey lie—and dem Peytons, too ! and poor ole Tiff hab noting to gib dem, noting; but him don't despair. Him dat feed de meanest insec' dat crawl upon de 'arth will not forget de poor chil'en dat hab none but ole Tiff to watch ober and care for dem.
Chil'en, chil'en, oo must larn to control oo appetites. S'pose him hab got
noting to eat just now— dare say him get someting some time or oder; oo must
raly hab patience.
I wouldn't mind waiting if I wasn't so hungry.
What ?
Oh, giminy! give us a bit, Uncle Tiff.
Dred—bless him kind heart !—hab done dis; and here am flask—someting nice, no
doubt 'bout it. Sit oo down, chil'en.
Him not at all hungry, Miss Fanny.
Shall we stop here much longer, Uncle Tiff?
No, Miss Fanny. Do Dred forced to gone on widout us, yet him come back soon—take us to de Great Dismal Swamp, and um be out ob reach ob cruel fader, and dat ere drefful new moder.
Oh, powers ob marcy!
So, you nigger, a pretty race you have given us!
Oh, we don't want him now; he may go when I have given him a taste of the whip. Come here, brats.
Massa, him don't a mean to be sarcy, but onless oo kill ole Tiff, oo neber—no, neber—take de chil'en from me.
Kill you ! Well, I shan't stand nice about that. You are my property, and I have a right to do it.
Don't stand prating there, but knock him down, and I'll take care of the brats.
Oh, ooman, ooman, does oo forget dat after dis dere am anoder world ?
I must have the children; their aunt in Canada is dead, and has left 'em heaps of money. I'm their natural guardian, and while I live will have the fingering of it.
To be sure; with the brats' money—which, of course, is the same as our own—we shall be able to do things stylish.
Massa, massa, oo ain't got no right to de money; it am left to 'em by a Peyton—dem's Peytons—
Curse the Peytons!
Oo broke de 'art ob dere poor moder, brought her and de chil'en to beggary ; don't, as oo hope for marcy, massa, don't oo now plun'er de poor ofins, what's got on'y Heben and ole Tiff to help 'em.
Neber, massa, neber !
You are not my father; you are a bad, wicked man, and I hate you!
If I was a man I'd knock you down, that's what I would.
Do you hear, Cripps ? Stop his meddling.
Ay—curse him!—I will.
So, one villain less to encumber the earth; too long had he been suffered to riot in his atrocities.
Though he was my father, he was a wicked man, and will go to the naughty place.
Hush, Massa Teddy, hush! him dead now.
The hunt is up ; but the hunters may become the hunted. Come on, Tiff, and fear not for yourself or children ; you have served him who was ready to perish —betrayed not Harry at his need, and the preservation of your life is the requital of the worthy deed. Come then; the men now who pursue are ruthless as the bloodhounds that accompany them ; in my lair, you'll be safe till the struggle is over. You may then boldly stand forth and claim for the children the wealth that is left to them—to be still their guardian and protector, till Heaven shall think fit to call you to a peaceful and an honoured grave.
Oh, Massa Dred, oo ought to hab been a king —why, oo but a rebolted slave.
Oh, that all slaves would revolt, and so destroy the curse and scourge of
this fair land. My master struck my poor old father before my very eyes
; I struck the monster to my feet a corpse, and fled to the Swamp, to herd with
snakes and alligators, less venomous than our masters; and there, if I may
nothing more effect, I can at least live free. But come, let us on; our way is
thorny and tangled. Bear you the girl, Tiff; my little man, wilt come to me
?
Dere—he isn't a bit askeared ob oo.
Not he. I never saw a child or dog that I could not make come to me.
Silence those hounds ! d'ye hear ? — don't want their howling yet. I shall have you Mistress Milly—I shall have you.
No, massa, better go back, massa—-'pend 'pon it she safe now, with Dred, in de Great Dismal Swamp.
Silence, you black imp—we have headed her, I know, she'll be here presently, and we shall have her safe in the Swamp—eh, none are safe in the Swamp now, for Hark, here, knows the right path, and will lead us to it—eh, Hark? or—but you know what I am?
I do, indeed, Master Gordon, you sold my wife from me—tore the child from her breast, and then sold it to another master. Yes, yes, I do indeed know you.
And you, Mister Jim, come here—I suspect more than ever that you wish to bolt—don't let me catch you at it, that's all.
Oh, massa, oo hurt him feelin's—him neber tink 'bout run away from sich um
booful massa.
Faint, weary, almost exhausted, I fear my strength will wholly desert me, and I shall perish by the way. My prize within my Harry's grasp, then gladly would I die; I must not linger, but on, on—
Lost, lost!
Now, Mistress Milly, the paper that you stole.
It is not yours—belongs to my son, to Harry, to him only will I give it.
Good, you confess then that you have it ? That is something.
I never lie—lying is a trick taught by civilisation, and belongs of right to white men, such as you.
Let me have it.
Now, you hag, I am again secure, and your Harry still my slave
More murder! How long will Heaven permit such monsters to go unpunished.
Dog of a nigger take that.
And that, and that.
If Massa Tom Gordon ain't de debil 'isself, him take him oat' him a bery near
relashun.
Die, Milly—dear 'art, no—time 'nuff to die when 'um can't live no
longer—stan' up, Milly.
Well for you, poor fellow, that he did not.
Iss ! him tink so ! Jim 'ticklar friend ob Massa Dred, and him tell oo secret—him goin' to run 'way, too—iss ! him mean be off, him know Massa Tom break him poor 'art—he, he, he !
Beware! should you be captured—
He, he ! him know better nor dat. Him sabed up money and him know how to get right slick away to Can'da—den Katy buy 'erself off, and 'er come too, 'cause noting ain't mine now, and him don't mean to hab a wife till he can get one that her 'long to him, and to nobody else—dat ere's a ting dis ere chile's perticklar 'bout.
I am stronger now—let us on to the Great Dismal Swamp, and to Harry. Oh ! how
joyfully I thought to have met him, but now—
'Old him 'ead up, Missee Milly; neber say die, Missee Milly. No, bless oo 'art, neber say die.
Dearest Harry, do not droop.
But, are we not outcast ?
'Tis not so dreadful to be an outcast as to be within the power of that bold, bad Tom Gordon. The sun shines for us here—the birds sing—nature smiles on us, and, to my mind, more cheerfully than it has ever smiled before—for oh, Harry! are we not free?
Free—yes, till hunted down, as ere long we surely shall be. Chance or
treachery will reveal the
How can you talk so despondingly when you know that brave, good Dred has prepared for our flight to Canada ?
And shall I, like a coward, leave him; shall I not lend my aid in the great
struggle which will give to the poor slaves their liberty
Well, if you wish it, here we'll stay; so smile, dear Harry, smile. How can you be sad in the gay summer time, with the wife who loves you by your side?
But winter will come—
And let it. Winter would reach us everywhere ; 'tis not alone in the Great Dismal Swamp that winter comes; and why need we fear it, Harry, so long as we have summer in our hearts ? Trust me, love, all will yet be well: there is a lightness at my heart which would not be, I'm sure, if some great joy were not in store for us.
Dear girl!
Ay, you were wont to call me child ; you see now I am a woman, to comfort and console you.
Let us in, and patiently await his return ; and look less gloomily, dear
Harry—indeed you must, or very angry.
Be careful, Tiff—one step aside, now, and you are lost beyond the power of man to rescue you.
Him take care, Massa Dred, not for hisself, but for de chil'en, de chil'en.
The bloodhounds; but fear not, the scent will not lie on the Swamp : they cannot reach us here, nor their masters, the two-legged bloodhounds.
I'll swear I heard the dogs ; we are pursued even here.
No, no, we are now where the dogs cannot find us—nor anybody else. Lisette,
take Uncle Tiff, and the children into the hut; they need rest, perhaps food.
Oh, Dred, how glad I am that you have returned.
Ay, I have come back to my den ! foxes have holes, the birds of the air have nests, and in the habitations of dragons Heaven hath opened a way for its outcasts. Harry, more butchery has taken place—more negroes murdered; each morning seems to break red with the blood of my friends. Oh, how gladly would I lay down my life were the craving of my soul for justice but assuaged.
More torture—more life destroyed.
Life! what is the worth of negro life ? I left a man dead in the Swamps, whom
their dogs have torn ; his wife is a widow—his children orphans ; our bones are
scattered at the grave's mouth, as when one cutteth and cleareth wood. Oh,
Heaven, avenge us of our adversaries. A man but wisheth to eat the fruit of his
labour, and the hunters are set upon him, the decree goes forth against him,
even the curse of Cain, so that whosoever findeth him shall kill him. Have I not
seen it all ? and Harry, it is because we will bear this, that we have
to bear it.
But what can we do ?
Do ! what does the wild horse do ? Launch out our hoofs, rear up, and come
down on them. What does the rattlesnake do ? lie in their path and bite. Why did
they make slaves of us ? they tried the wild Indians first—why didn't they keep
to them? they wouldn't be slaves, and we will; they that
will bear the yoke, may bear it.
But, Dred, this is all utterly hopeless,
Let us die, then; what if we do die—what great matter is that ? if they
bruise our head, we can sting their heel. Die, why not die ? has your
heart dropped out of you, that you can't die? that you'll crawl like worms for
the sake of living.
See, see, some one on the path.
My mother.
Ay, Harry, your wretched mother.
The paper left by Colonel Gordon was in my hands, I fled with it, was overtaken by Tom Gordon, the precious document wrested from me, and I, felled to the earth by a blow of his ruffianly hand.
Heaven requite me if I do not that and more to him, the demon.
Massa Tom Gordon comin' here, him got poor Hark, and force him to be him guide.
Hark! He would perish rather than betray me.
Him tink so, Massa Dred, for eber so many ob de rascals what's wid Tom Gordon ab tumble ober de Swamp, and nobody neber see dem neber no more. He, he, he ?
Ha, 'tis he; but alas, I can but kill him. That which, I doubt not contains my freedom, he has I fear destroyed.
Go on!
Not a step, Tom Gordon. I have brought you thus far to be a mark for Dred's unerring rifle. No further will I betray the secret path, lest one of you should, by chance, escape, to return and prate of it.
It is as I suspected, then—the loss of my slaves was not an accident ; but no
matter for the present, I have sworn to have Harry, and I will—so go on, or your
life—
My life ! Inhuman monster ! I am weary of it; my wife and child torn from me, I have existed but for this, the day of vengeance, which has come at last. Tom Gordon, your fate is sealed.
Ay, but not from your hand—no ; the Great Dismal Swamp, before my shelter, now shall be my grave.
Oh, there you are, and here am I—didn't expect to see me here, I dare say. I've got you, and I'll make you mine now. Your friend, Dred, and his vagabond companions, they tell me, are now away from here; so the game is all my own. Yes, I've got you now, and I'll have your wife from you—do you understand what that means, eh?
Colonel Gordon's will, villain ! you know that I am free.
Oh, your worthy mother there has told you— so much the better; and,
Hark'ye—but first, men, place yourselves there;
No—mine ! mine !
Curse you!
Now, Massa Tom, oo dam tief! oo go hang ooself as soon as oo tink proper.
Every devil is leagued against me.
Take thou that!
Wounded!
To death! Ah ! the poor slave's chain is now more firmly than ever rivetted; but I can see far into the future—can behold the time when white and black shall be of equal worth. Grieve not for me; I go where all are free; go where my colour is no crime, there—to the abode of bliss—and—liberty—liberty !