The Story of Jack Ballister's Fortunes. Говард Пайл
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did you come from?” asked the gentleman.
Jack, with the gaze of everybody upon him, felt shy of the sound of his own voice. “I came from Southampton,” said he.
“Speak up, boy, speak up,” said the gentleman.
“I came from Southampton,” said Jack again, and this time it seemed to him that his voice was very loud indeed.
“From Southampton, hey?” said the gentleman. He looked at Jack very critically for a while in silence. “Well, brother Richard,” said he at last, “’tis indeed a well-looking lad, and if Simms hath no special use for him I will let you have him. How long is he bound for?”
“Five years,” said Mr. Parker. “They were all bound for five years. I spoke to Simms about him yesterday, and he said he could spare him. Simms gave twenty pounds for him, and I will be willing and glad enough to pay you that for him.”
“Tut, tut, brother Richard,” said Colonel Parker, “don’t speak to me of paying for him; indeed, I give him to you very willingly.”
“Then, indeed, sir, I am very much obliged to you. You may go now, boy.” Jack hesitated for a moment, not knowing clearly if he understood. “You may go, I said,” said Mr. Richard Parker again. And then Jack went away, still accompanied by the negro.
The gloomy interior of the store-house struck chill upon him as he reëntered it from the brightness and heat outside, and once more he was conscious of the dampness and all-pervading earthy smell. The transports, huddled together, were dull and silent. One or two of them were smoking, others lay sleeping heavily, others sat crouching or leaning against the wall doing nothing – perfectly inert. They hardly looked up as Jack entered.
CHAPTER XII
DOWN THE RIVER
IT was the next morning that the door of the store-house in which Jack and his companions were confined was suddenly opened by a white man. He was a roughly-dressed fellow, with a shaggy beard and with silver ear-rings in his ears. “Where’s that there boy of Mr. Richard Parker’s?” said he.
“D’ ye mean me?” said Jack, “I am the only boy here.”
“Why, then, if you are the only boy here, you must be the one,” said the man with a grin. “Come along with me,” he added, “and be quick about it.”
“Am I going for good and all?” asked Jack.
“I reckon ye be.”
The other redemptioners had roused themselves somewhat at the coming of the man and were listening. “Good-by, Jack,” said one of them, as he was about to go, and the others took up the words: “Good-by – good-by, Jack.” “Good-by,” said Jack. He shook hands with them all, and then he and the man went out into the bright sunlight.
His conductor led the way down back of the great house, and past a clustered group of cabins, in front of which a number of negro children played like monkeys, half naked and bareheaded, who stopped their antics and stood in the sun, and watched Jack as he passed, while some negro women came to the doors and stood also watching him.
“Won’t you tell me where I’m going to be taken?” said Jack, quickening his steps so as to come up alongside of his conductor.
“You’re going with Mr. Richard Parker,” said the man. “I reckon he’ll be taking you down to the Roost with him.”
“The Roost?” said Jack, “and where is the Roost?”
“Why, the Roost is Mr. Parker’s house. It’s some thirty or forty mile down the river.”
As they were speaking they had come out past a group of trees at the end of the great house, and upon the edge of the slope. From where they were they looked down to the shore of the river, and upon a large flat-boat with a great square sail that lay at the landing place, a rod or so away. There was a pile of bags, and a lot of boxes and bundles of various sorts lying upon the wharf in the sun. Three or four negro men were slowly and indolently carrying the bags aboard the flat-boat.
“Are we going down the river in that boat?” asked Jack, as he descended the slope at the heels of the other.
“Yes,” said the man briefly.
On the bank at the end of the wharf was a square brick building, in the shade of which stood Mr. Simms and Mr. Parker, the latter smoking a cigarro. Mr. Simms held in his hand a slip of paper, upon which he kept the tally of the bags as they were carried aboard. Jack went out along the wharf, watching the negro men at work, until Mr. Simms called out: “Get aboard the boat, young man.” Thereupon he stepped into the boat, climbing over the seats to the bow, where he settled himself easily upon some bags of meal, and whence he watched the slow loading of the boat.
At last everything was taken aboard. “We’re all ready now, Mr. Simms,” called out the man who had brought Jack down from the storehouse.
Mr. Parker and Mr. Simms came down the wharf together. Mr. Parker stepped aboard the scow, and immediately it was cast loose and pushed off from the landing.
“Good-by, Mr. Parker, sir,” called Mr. Simms across the widening stretch of water, and he lifted his hat as he spoke. Mr. Parker nodded a brief reply. The boat drifted farther and farther away with the sweeping stream as the negro rowers settled themselves in their places, and Mr. Simms still stood on the wharf looking after them. Then the oars creaked in the rowlocks and the head of the boat came slowly around in the direction intended. Jack, lying upon and amid the meal bags, looked out astern. Before him were the naked, sinewy backs of the eight negro oarsmen, and away in the stern sat the white man – he was the overseer of the North Plantation – and Mr. Parker, who was just lighting a fresh cigarro. Presently the oars sounded with a ceaseless chug, chug, in the rowlocks, and then the overseer left the tiller for a moment and came forward and trimmed the square, brown sail, that now swelled out smooth and round with the sweep of the wind. The rugged, wooded shores crept slowly past them, and the now distant wharf and brick buildings, and the long front of the great house perched upon the slope, dropped further and further astern. Then the flat-boat crept around the bend of the river, and house and wharf were shut off by an intervening point of land.
Jack could not but feel the keen novelty of it all. The sky was warm and clear. The bright surface of the water, driven by the breeze, danced and sparkled in the drifting sunlight. It was impossible that he should not feel a thrill of interest that was like delight in the newness of everything.
About noon the overseer brought out a hamper-like basket, which he opened, and from which he took a plentiful supply of food. A couple of cold roast potatoes, a great lump of Indian-corn bread, and a thick slice of ham were passed forward to Jack. It seemed to him that he had never tasted anything so good.
After he had finished his meal he felt very sleepy. He curled himself down upon the bags in the sunlight, and presently dozed off.
The afternoon sun was slanting when he was aroused by a thumping and bumping and a stir on board. He opened his eyes, and sat up to see that the boat had again stopped at a landing-place. It was a straggling, uneven wharf, at the end of which, upon the shore, was an open shed. Thence a rough and rugged road ran up the steep bluff bank, and then turned away into the woody wilderness beyond. A wagon with a nondescript team of oxen and mules, and half a dozen men, black and white, were waiting beside the shed at the end of the wharf for the coming of the flat-boat.
Then followed the unloading of the boat.
Mr. Parker had gone ashore, and Jack could see him and the overseer talking together and inspecting a small boat that lay pulled up from the water upon a little strip of sandy beach. Jack himself climbed out from the boat upon the wharf, where he walked up and down, stretching himself and watching those at work. Presently he heard some one calling, “Where’s that young fellow? Hi, you, come here!”
Then Jack saw that they had made ready the smaller boat at which they had been looking, and had got the sail hoisted upon it; it flapped and beat in the wind. A little group stood about it, and Jack saw that they were waiting for him. He ran along the wharf, and jumped down from it to the little strip of sandy beach.