XXXII.
_TOBY'S REWARD._
Filled with disgust and wrath, Toby had obeyed the man who assumed to behis master, and gone to bed. But he was scarcely asleep, when he feltsomebody shaking him, and awoke to see bending over him, with smilingcountenance, lamp in hand, Captain Lysander.
"What's wantin', sar?"
"I want you to do an errand for me, Toby," Lysander kindly replied.
"Wal, sar, I don'o', sar," said Toby, reluctant, sitting up in bed andrubbing his elbows. "You know I had a right smart tramp. I's atuckered-out nigger, sar; dat's de troof."
"Yes, you had a hard time, Toby. But you'll just run over to theschool-house for me, I know. That's a good fellow!"
Toby hardly knew what to make of Lysander's extraordinarily persuasiveand indulgent manner. He didn't know before that a Sprowl could smile sopleasantly, and behave so much like a gentleman. Then, the captain hadcalled him a good fellow, and his African soul was not above flattery.Weary, sleepy as he was, he felt strongly inclined to get up out of hisdelicious bed, and go and do Lysander's errand.
"You've only to hand this note to Lieutenant Ropes. And I'll give yousomething when you come back--something you don't get every day, Toby!Something you've deserved, and ought to have had long ago!" AndLysander, all smiles, patted the old servant's shoulder.
This was too much for Toby. He laughed with pleasure, got up, pulled onhis clothes, took the note, and started off with alacrity, to convincethe captain that he merited all the good that was said of him, and thatindefinite "something" besides.
What could that something be? He thought of many things by the way: adollar; a knife; a new pair of boots with red tops, such as Lysanderhimself wore;--which last item reminded him of the bootjack he had beenused for, and the kick he had received.
He stopped in the street, his wrath rising up again at the recollection."Good mind ter go back, and not do his old arrant." But then he thoughtof the smiles and compliments, and the promised reward. "Somefin' kinderdecent 'bout dat mis'ble Sprowl, 'long wid a heap o' mean tings, arterall!" And he started on again.
Lysander's note was in these words:--
"Leiutent Ropes Send me with the bearrer of This 2 strappin felloescapble of doin a touhgh Job."
This letter was duly signed, and duly delivered, and it brought the "2strappin felloes." The internal evidence it bore, that Lysander had notpursued his studies at school half as earnestly as he had of latepursued the schoolmaster, made no difference with the result.
The two strapping fellows returned with Toby. They were raw recruits,who had travelled a long distance on foot in order to enlist in theconfederate ranks. They had an unmistakable foreign air. They calledthemselves Germans. They were brothers.
"All right, Toby!" said Lysander, well pleased. "What are you bowing andgrinning at me for? O, I was to give you something!"
"If you please, sar," said Toby--wretched, deceived, cajoled, devotedToby.
"Well, you go to the woodshed and bring the clothes line for thesefellows--to make a swing for the ladies, you know--then I'll tell youwhat you're to have."
"Sartin, sar." And Toby ran for the clothes line.
"Good old Toby! Now, what you have deserved so long, and what thesestout Dutchmen will proceed to give you, is the damnedest licking youever had in your life!"
Toby almost fainted; falling upon his knees, and rolling up his eyes inconsternation. Sprowl smiled. The "Dutchmen" grinned. Just then Salinadarted into the room.
"Lysander! what are you going to do with that old man?"
She put the demand sharply, her short upper lip quivering, cheeksflushed, eyes flaming.
"I'm going to have him whipped."
"No, you are not. You promised me you wouldn't. You told me that if hewould go to the Academy for you, and be respectful, you would forgivehim. If I had known what you were sending for, he should never have leftthis house. Now send those men back, and let him go."
"Not exactly, my lady. I am master in this house, whatever turns up. Iam this nigger's master, too."
"You are not; you never were. Toby has his freedom. He shall not bewhipped!" And with a gesture of authority, and with a stamp of her foot,Salina placed herself between the kneeling old servant and the grinningbrothers.
Alas! this woman's dream of love and happiness had been brief, as allsuch dreams, false in their very nature, must ever be. She loved himwell enough to concede much. She was not going to quarrel with him anymore. To avoid a threatened quarrel, she betrayed Toby. But she was notheartless: she had a sense of justice, pride, temper, an impetuous will,not yet given over in perpetuity to the keeping of her husband.
The captain laughed devilishly, and threw his arms about his wife (thistime in no loving embrace), and seizing her wrists, held them, andnodded to the soldiers to begin their work.
They laid hold of Toby, still kneeling and pleading, bound his armsbehind him with the cord, and then looked calmly at Lysander forinstructions.
"Take him to the shed," said the captain. "One of you carry this light.You can string him up to a crossbeam. If you don't understand how that'sdone, I'll go and show you. He's to have twenty lashes to begin with,for lying to me. Then he's to be whipped till he tells where our escapedprisoners are hid in the mountains. You understand?"
"Ve unterstan," said the brothers, coldly.
Toby groaned. They took hold of him, and dragged him away.
"Now will you behave, my girl? A pretty row you're making! Ye see it'sno use. I am master. The nigger'll only get it the worse for yourinterference."
Lysander looked insolently in his wife's face. It was livid.
"Hey?" he said. "One of your tantrums?"
He placed her on a chair. She was rigid; she did not speak; he wouldhave thought she was in a fit but for the eyes which she never took offof him--eyes fixed with deep, unutterable, deadly, despairing hate.
"I reckon you'll behave--you'd better!" he said, shaking his fingerwarningly at her as he retired backwards from the room.
She saw the door close behind him. She did not move: her eyes were stillfixed on that door: heavy and cold as stone, she sat there, and gazed,with that same look of unutterable hate. Perhaps five minutes. Then sheheard blows and shrieks. Toby's shrieks: he had no Carl now to rush inand cut his bands.
The twenty lashes for lying had been administered on the negro's bareback. Then Lysander put the question: Was he prepared to tell all heknew about the fugitives and the cave?
"O, pardon, sar! pardon, sar!" the old man implored; "I can't tellnuffin', dat am de troof!"
"Work away, boys," said Lysander.
Was it supposed that the good old practice of applying torture toenforce confession had long since been done away with? A great mistake,my friend. Driven from that ancient stronghold of conservatism, theSpanish Inquisition, it found refuge in this modern stronghold ofconservatism, American Slavery. Here the records of its deeds arewritten on many a back.
But Toby was not a slave. No matter for that. For in the school ofslavery, this is the lesson that soon or late is learned: Not simplythat there are two castes, freeman and slave; two races, white andblack; but that there are two great classes, the rich and the poor, thestrong and the weak, the lord and the laborer, one born to rule, and theother to be ruled. All, who are not masters, are, or ought to be,slaves: black or white, it makes no difference; and the slave has norights. This is the first principle of human slavery. This every slavesociety tends directly to develop. It may be kept carefully out ofsight, but there it lurks, in the hardened hearts of men, like waterwithin rocks. It is forever gushing up in little springs of despotism.Once it burst forth in a vast convulsive flood, and that was theRebellion.
Although Lysander had never owned a slave, he had all his life breathedthe atmosphere of the institution, and imbibed its spirit. He hatedlabor. He was ambitious. But he was poor. Like a flying fish, he hadforced himself out of the lower element of society, to which henaturally belonged, and had long despera
tely endeavored to soar. Thestruggle it had cost him to attain his present position rendered him allthe more violent in his hatred of the inferior class, and all the moreeager to enjoy the privileges of the aristocracy. Do not blame this mantoo much. The injustice, the cruelty, the atrocious selfishness hedisplays, do not belong so much to the individual as to the institution.The milk of this wolf makes the child it nourishes wolfish.
Torture to the extent of ten lashes was applied; then once more thequestion was put. Gashed, bleeding, strung up by his thumbs to thecrossbeam; every blow of the extemporized whips extorting from him ahowl of agony; no rescue at hand; Lysander looking on with a mercilesssmile; the brothers doing their assigned work with mercilessnonchalance; well might poor Toby cry out, in the wild insanity ofpain,--
"Yes, sar! I'll tell, I'll tell, sar!"
"Very good," said Lysander. "Let him breathe a minute, boys."
But in that minute Toby gathered up his soul again, dismissed thetraitor, Cowardice, and took counsel of his fidelity. Betray his goodold master to these ruffians? Break his promise to Virginia, his oath toCudjo and Pomp? No, he couldn't do that. He thought of Penn, who wouldcertainly be hung if captured; and hung through his treachery!
"Now, out with it," said Lysander. "All about the cave. And don't yelie, for you'll have to go and show it to us when we're ready."'
"I can't tell!" said Toby. "Dar ain't no cave! none't I knowsabout--dat's shore!" This was of course a downright lie; but it was toldto save from ruin those he loved; and I do not think it stands chargedagainst his soul on the books of the recording angel.
"Ten more, boys," said Lysander.
"O, wait, wait, sar!" shrieked Toby. "Des guv me time to tink!"
He thought of ten lashes; ten more afterwards; and still another ten;for he knew that the whipping would not cease until either he betrayedthe fugitives or died; and every lash was to him an agony.
"Think quick," said Captain Sprowl.
Just then the door, of the kitchen opened. Toby grasped wildly at thatstraw of hope. It broke instantly. The comer was Salina. She had had thepower to betray him, but not the power to save. She stood with foldedarms, and smiled.
"I can't help you, Toby, but I can be revenged."
"Hello!" cried Lysander, with a start. "What smoke is that?"
She had left the door open, and a draught of air wafted a strange smellof burning cloth and pine wood to his nostrils.
"Nothing," replied Salina, "only the house is afire."