Iola Leroy - Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (suggested reading txt) 📗

an’ begin to cry, an’ then the fat would be in the fire. So, while I love freedom more than a child loves its mother’s milk, I’ve made up my mind to stay on the plantation. I wish, from the bottom of my heart, I could go. But I can’t take her along with me, an’ I don’t want to be free and leave her behind in slavery. I was only five years old when my master and, as I believe, father, sold us both here to this lower country, an’ we’ve been here ever since. It’s no use talking, I won’t leave her to be run over by everybody.”

A few evenings after this interview, the Union soldiers entered the town of C⁠⸺, and established their headquarters near the home of Thomas Anderson.

Out of the little company, almost everyone deserted to the Union army, leaving Uncle Daniel faithful to his trust, and Ben Tunnel hushing his heart’s deep aspirations for freedom in a passionate devotion to his timid and affectionate mother.

IV Arrival of the Union Army

A few evenings before the stampede of Robert and his friends to the army, and as he sat alone in his room reading the latest news from the paper he had secreted, he heard a cautious tread and a low tap at his window. He opened the door quietly and whispered:⁠—

“Anything new, Tom?”

“Yes.”

“What is it? Come in.”

“Well, I’se done bin seen dem Yankees, an’ dere ain’t a bit of troof in dem stories I’se bin yerin ’bout ’em.”

“Where did you see ’em?”

“Down in de woods whar Marster tole us to hide. Yesterday ole Marse sent for me to come in de settin’-room. An’ what do you think? Instead ob makin’ me stan’ wid my hat in my han’ while he went froo a whole rigamarole, he axed me to sit down, an’ he tole me he ’spected de Yankees would want us to go inter de army, an’ dey would put us in front whar we’d all git killed; an’ I tole him I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to git all momached up. An’ den he said we’d better go down in de woods an’ hide. Massa Tom and Frank said we’d better go as quick as eber we could. Dey said dem Yankees would put us in dere wagons and make us haul like we war mules. Marse Tom ain’t libin’ at de great house jis’ now. He’s keepin’ bachellar’s hall.”

“Didn’t he go to the battle?”

“No; he foun’ a pore white man who war hard up for money, an’ he got him to go.”

“But, Tom, you didn’t believe these stories about the Yankees. Tom and Frank can lie as fast as horses can trot. They wanted to scare you, and keep you from going to the Union army.”

“I knows dat now, but I didn’t ’spect so den.”

“Well, when did you see the soldiers? Where are they? And what did they say to you?”

“Dey’s right down in Gundover’s woods. An’ de Gineral’s got his headquarters almos’ next door to our house.”

“That near? Oh, you don’t say so!”

“Yes, I do. An’, oh, golly, ain’t I so glad! I jis’ stole yere to told you all ’bout it. Yesterday mornin’ I war splittin’ some wood to git my breakfas’, an’ I met one ob dem Yankee sogers. Well, I war so skeered, my heart flew right up in my mouf, but I made my manners to him and said, ‘Good mornin’, Massa.’ He said, ‘Good mornin’; but don’t call me “massa.” ’ Dat war de fust white man I eber seed dat didn’t want ter be called ‘massa,’ eben ef he war as pore as Job’s turkey. Den I begin to feel right sheepish, an’ he axed me ef my marster war at home, an’ ef he war a Reb. I tole him he hadn’t gone to de war, but he war Secesh all froo, inside and outside. He war too ole to go to de war, but dat he war all de time gruntin’ an’ groanin’, an’ I ’spected he’d grunt hisself to death.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he specs he’ll grunt worser dan dat fore dey get froo wid him. Den he axed me ef I would hab some breakfas,’ an’ I said, ‘No, t’ank you, sir.’ An’ I war jis’ as hungry as a dorg, but I war ’feared to eat. I war ’feared he war gwine to pizen me.”

“Poison you! don’t you know the Yankees are our best friends?”

“Well, ef dat’s so, I’se mighty glad, cause de woods is full ob dem.”

“Now, Tom, I thought you had cut your eyeteeth long enough not to let them Anderson boys fool you. Tom, you must not think because a white man says a thing, it must be so, and that a colored man’s word is no account ’longside of his. Tom, if ever we get our freedom, we’ve got to learn to trust each other and stick together if we would be a people. Somebody else can read the papers as well as Marse Tom and Frank. My ole Miss knows I can read the papers, an’ she never tries to scare me with big whoppers ’bout the Yankees. She knows she can’t catch ole birds with chaff, so she is just as sweet as a peach to her Bobby. But as soon as I get a chance I will play her a trick the devil never did.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll leave her. I ain’t forgot how she sold my mother from me. Many a night I have cried myself to sleep, thinking about her, and when I get free I mean to hunt her up.”

“Well, I ain’t tole you all. De gemman said he war ’cruiting for de army; dat Massa Linkum hab set us all free, an’ dat he wanted some more sogers to put down dem Secesh; dat we should all hab our freedom, our wages, an’ some kind ob money. I couldn’t call it like