Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Гарриет Бичер-Стоу

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СКАЧАТЬ Haley stood there in very ill humour, having ridden hard the night before, and being not at all pacified by his ill success in recapturing his prey.

      “Come,” said he, “ye nigger, ye’r ready? Servant, ma’am!” said he, taking off his hat, as he saw Mrs. Shelby.

      Aunt Chloe shut and corded the box, and, getting up, looked gruffly on the trader, her tears seeming suddenly turned to sparks of fire.

      Tom rose up meekly, to follow his new master, and raised up his heavy box on his shoulder. His wife took the baby in her arms to go with him to the wagon, and the children, still crying, trailed on behind.

      Mrs. Shelby, walking up to the trader, detained him for a few moments, talking with him in an earnest manner; and while she was thus talking, the whole family party proceeded to a wagon, that stood ready harnessed at the door. A crowd of all the old and young hands on the place stood gathered around it, to bid farewell to their old associate. Tom had been looked up to, both as a head servant and a Christian teacher, by all the place, and there was much honest sympathy and grief about him, particularly among the women.

      “Why, Chloe, you bar it better’n we do!” said one of the women, who had been weeping freely, noticing the gloomy calmness with which Aunt Chloe stood by the wagon.

      “I’s done my tears!” she said, looking grimly at the trader, who was coming up. “I does not feel to cry ’fore dat ar old limb, no how!”

      “Get in!” said Haley to Tom, as he strode through the crowd of servants, who looked at him with lowering brows.

      Tom got in, and Haley drawing out from under the wagon seat a heavy pair of shackles, made them fast around each ankle.

      A smothered groan of indignation ran through the whole circle, and Mrs. Shelby spoke from the verandah—

      “Mr. Haley, I assure you that precaution is entirely unnecessary.”

      “Do’n know, ma’am; I’ve lost one five hundred dollars from this yer place, and I can’t afford to run no more risks.”

      “What else could she ’spect on him?” said Aunt Chloe indignantly, while the two boys, who now seemed to comprehend at once their father’s destiny, clung to her gown, sobbing and groaning vehemently.

      “I’m sorry,” said Tom, “that Mas’r George happened to be away.”

      George had gone to spend two or three days with a companion on a neighbouring estate, and having departed early in the morning, before Tom’s misfortune had been made public, had left without hearing of it.

      “Give my love to Mas’r George,” he said earnestly.

      Haley whipped up the horse, and, with a steady, mournful look, fixed to the last on the old place, Tom was whirled away.

      Mr. Shelby at this time was not at home. He had sold Tom under the spur of a driving necessity, to get out of the power of a man whom he dreaded—and his first feeling, after the consummation of the bargain, had been that of relief. But his wife’s expostulations awoke his half-slumbering regrets; and Tom’s manly disinterestedness increased the unpleasantness of his feelings. It was in vain that he said to himself that he had a right to do it—that everybody did it—and that some did it without even the excuse of necessity;—he could not satisfy his own feelings; and that he might not witness the unpleasant scenes of the consummation, he had gone on a short business tour up the country, hoping that all would be over before he returned.

      Tom and Haley rattled on along the dusty road, whirling past every old familiar spot, until the bounds of the estate were fairly passed, and they found themselves out on the open pike. After they had ridden about a mile, Haley suddenly drew up at the door of a blacksmith’s shop, when, taking out with him a pair of handcuffs, he stepped into the shop, to have a little alteration in them.

      “These yer’s a little too small for his build,” said Haley, showing the fetters, and pointing out to Tom.

      “Lor! now, if thar an’t Shelby’s Tom. He han’t sold him, now?” said the smith.

      “Yes, he has,” said Haley.

      “No, ye don’t! well, reely,” said the smith, “who’d a thought it! Why, ye needn’t go to fetterin’ him up this yer way. He’s the faithfullest, best crittur—”

      “Yes, yes,” said Haley; “but your good fellers are just the critturs to want ter run off. Them stupid ones, as doesn’t care whar they go, and shif’less, drunken ones, as don’t care for nothin’, they’ll stick by, and like as not be rather pleased to be toted round; but these yer prime fellers, they hates it like sin. No way but to fetter ’em; got legs—they’ll use ’em—no mistake.”

      “Well,” said the smith, feeling among his tools, “them plantations down thar, stranger, an’t jest the place a Kentuck nigger wants to go to; they dies thar tol’able fast, don’t they?”

      “Wal, yes, tol’able fast, ther dying is; what with the ’climating and one thing and another, they dies so as to keep the market up pretty brisk,” said Haley.

      “Wal, now, a feller can’t help thinkin’ it’s a mighty pity to have a nice, quiet, likely feller, as good un as Tom is, go down to be fairly ground up on one of them ar sugar plantations.”

      “Wal, he’s got a fa’r chance. I promised to do well by him. I’ll get him in house servant in some good old family, and then, if he stands the fever and ’climating, he’ll have a berth good as any nigger ought ter ask for.”

      “He leaves his wife and chil’en up here, s’pose?”

      “Yes; but he’ll get another thar. Lord, thar’s women enough everywhar,” said Haley.

      Tom was sitting very mournfully on the outside of the shop while this conversation was going on. Suddenly he heard the quick, short click of a horse’s hoof behind him; and, before he could fairly awake from his surprise, young Master George sprang into the wagon, threw his arms tumultuously round his neck, and was sobbing and scolding with energy.

      “I declare, it’s real mean? I don’t care what they say, any of ’em! It’s a nasty, mean shame! If I was a man, they shouldn’t do it—they should not, so!” said George, with a kind of subdued howl.

      “Oh! Mas’r George! this does me good!” said Tom. “I couldn’t bar to go off without seein’ ye! It does me real good, ye can’t tell!” Here Tom made some movement of his feet, and George’s eye fell on the fetters.

      “What a shame!” he exclaimed, lifting his hands. “I’ll knock that old fellow down—I will!”

      “No, you won’t, Mas’r George; and you must not talk so loud. It won’t help me any, to anger him.”

      “Well, I won’t, then, for your sake; but only to think of it—isn’t it a shame? They never sent for me, nor sent me any word, and, if it hadn’t been for Tom Lincon, I shouldn’t have heard it. I tell you, I blew ’em up well, all of ’em, at home!”

      “That ar wasn’t right, I’m ’feared, Mas’r George.”

      “Can’t help it! I say it’s a shame! Look here, Uncle Tom,” said he, turning his back to the shop, and speaking СКАЧАТЬ