July 3, 1851 Transcription

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Chapter VI.—Discovery.

Mr. and Mrs. Shelby, after their protracted discussion of the night before, did not readily sink to repose, and, in consequence, slept somewhat later than usual the ensuing morning.

“I wonder what keeps Eliza,” said Mrs. Shelby, after giving her bell repeated pulls to no purpose.

Mr. Shelby was standing before his dressing-glass, sharpening his razor; and just then the door opened, and a colored boy entered with his shaving water.

“Andy,” said his mistress, “step to Eliza’s door, and tell her I have rung for her three times. Poor thing!” she added, to herself, with a sigh.

Andy soon returned, with eyes very wide in astonishment.

“Lor, missis! Lizzy’s drawers is all open, and her things all lying every which way—and I believe she’s just done clared out!”

The truth flashed upon Mr. Shelby and his wife at the same moment; he exclaimed—

“Then she suspected it, and she’s off!”

“The Lord be thanked!” said Mrs. Shelby; “I trust she is.”

“Wife, you talk like a fool! really it will be something pretty awkward for me, if she is. Haley saw that I hesitated about selling this child, and he’ll think I connived at it, to get him out of the way. It touches my honor!” and Mr. Shelby left the room hastily.

There was great running and ejaculating, and opening and shutting of doors, and appearance of faces in all shades of color in different places, for about a quarter of an hour. One person only, who might have shed some light on the matter, was entirely silent, and that was the head cook, Aunt Chloe. Silently, and with a heavy cloud settled down over her once joyous face, she proceeded making out her breakfast biscuits, as if she heard and saw nothing of the excitement around her.

Very soon, about a dozen young imps were roosting, like so many crows, on the verandah railings, each one determined to be the first one to apprize the strange mass’r of his ill luck.

“He’ll be rael mad, I’ll be bound,” said Andy.

Won’t he swar!” said little black Jake.

“Yes, for he does swar,” said woolly-headed Mandy. “I hearn him yesterday, at dinner. I hearn all about it then, cause I got into the closet, where missis keeps the great jugs, and I hearn every word.” And Mandy, who had never in her life thought of the meaning of a word she had heard, more than a black cat, now took airs of superior wisdom, and strutted about, forgetting to state that, though actually coiled up among the jugs at the time specified, she had been fast asleep all the time.

When at last Haley appeared, booted and spurred, he was saluted, as usually is the case,[1] with the bad tidings, on every hand. The young imps on the verandah were not disappointed in their hope of hearing him “swar,” which he did with a fluency and fervency which tickled[2] them all amazingly, as they ducked and dodged hither and thither, to be out of the reach of his riding whip; and all whooping off together, they tumbled, in a pile of immeasurable giggle, on the withered turf under the verandah, where they kicked up their heels and shouted to their hearts’ content.[3]

“If I had the little devils!” muttered Haley, between his teeth.

“But you han’t got ’em, though!” said Andy, with a triumphant flourish, and making a string of indescribable mouths at the unfortunate trader’s back, when he was fairly beyond hearing.

“I say now, Shelby, this yer’s a most extro’rnary business!” said Haley, as he abruptly entered the parlor. It seems that gal’s off with her young un.”

“Mr. Haley, Mrs. Shelby is present,” said Mr. Shelby.

“I beg pardon, ma’am,” said Haley, bowing slightly, with a still lowering brow; “but still I say, as I said before, this yer’s a sing’lar report. Is it true, sir?”

“Sir,” said Mr. Shelby, “if you wish to communicate with me, you must observe something of the decorum of a gentleman. Andy, take Mr. Haley’s hat and riding whip. Take a seat, sir. Yes, sir, I regret to say that the young woman, excited by overhearing, or having reported to her, something of this business, has taken her child in the night, and made off.”

“I did expect fair dealing in this matter, I confess,” said Haley.

“Well, sir,” said Mr. Shelby, turning sharply round upon him, “what am I to understand by that remark? If any man calls my honor in question, I have but one answer for him.”

The trader cowered at this, and in a somewhat lower tone said that “it was plaguy hard on a fellow, that had made a fair bargain, to be gulled that way.”

“Mr. Haley,” said Mr. Shelby, “if I did not think you had some cause for disappointment, I should not have borne from you the rude and unceremonious style of your entrance into my parlor this morning. I say thus much, however, since appearances call for it, that I shall allow of no insinuations cast upon me, as if I were at all partner to any unfairness in this matter. Moreover, I shall feel bound to give you every assistance, in the use of horses, servants, &c., in the recovery of your property; so, in short, Haley,” said he, suddenly dropping from the tone of dignified coolness to his ordinary one of easy frankness, “the best way for you is to keep good-natured and eat some breakfast, and we will then see what is to be done.”

Mrs. Shelby now rose, and said her engagements would prevent her being at the breakfast-table that morning; and deputing a very respectable mulatto woman to attend to the gentlemen’s coffee at the sideboard, she left the room.

“Old lady don’t like your humble servant over and above,” said Haley, with an uneasy effort to be very familiar.

“I am not accustomed to hear my wife spoken of with such freedom,” said Mr. Shelby, drily.

“Beg pardon; of course, only a joke, you know,” said Haley, forcing a laugh.

“Some jokes are less agreeable than others,” rejoined Shelby.

“Devilish free, now I’ve signed those papers, cuss him!” muttered Haley to himself; “quite grand since yesterday!”

Never did fall of any prime minister at court occasion wider surges of sensation than the report of Tom’s fate among his compeers on the place. It was the topic in every mouth everywhere, and nothing was done in the house or in the field, but to discuss its probable results. Eliza’s flight—an unprecedented event on the place—was also a great accessory in stimulating the general excitement.

Black Sam, as he was commonly called, from his being about three shades blacker than any other son of ebony on the place, was revolving the matter profoundly in all its phases and bearings, with a comprehensiveness of vision and a strict lookout to his own personal well-being, that would have done credit to any white patriot in Washington.

“It’s an ill wind dat blows nowhar! dat ar a fact,” said Sam, sententiously, giving an additional hoist to his pantaloons, and adroitly substituting a long nail in place of a missing suspender button, with which effort of mechanical genius he seemed highly delighted.

“Yes, it’s an ill wind blows nowhar!” he repeated; “now, dar, Tom’s down—wal, course ders room for some nigger to be up—and why not dis nigger? dats d’ idee. Tom! a ridin round de country—boots blacked—pass in his pocket—all grand as Cuffe—who but he! Now, why shouldn’t Sam—dat’s what I want ter know.”[4]

“Halloo, Sam—O Sam! Masser wants you to cotch Bill and Jerry,” said Andy, cutting short Sam’s soliloquy.

“High!” what’s afoot now, young un?”

“Why, you don’t know, I spose, that Lizzy’s cut stick, and clared out, with her young un.”

“You teach your granny!” said Sam, with infinite contempt; “knowd it a heap sight sooner than you did; dis nigger aint so green now!”

“Well, anyhow mass’r wants Bill and Jerry geared right up, and you and I’s to go with mass’r Haley, to look arter her.”

“Good now! dat’s de time o day!” says Sam. “It’s Sam dat’s called for in dese yer times. He’s de nigger. See if I don’t cotch her now; mass’r’ll see what Sam can do.”

“Ah! but Sam!” said Andy, “you’d better think twice, for missis don’t want her cotched, and she’ll be in yer wool.”

“High!” said Sam, opening his eyes, “how you know dat?”

“Heard her say so my own self, dis blessed mornin, when I bring in mass’rs shaving water. She sent me to see why Lizzy didn’t come to dress her; and when I telled her she was off, she jest ris up, and ses she, the Lord be praised; and mass’r, he seemed rael mad, and ses he, wife, you talk like a fool. But Lor! she’ll bring him to! I knows well enough how that’ll be—its allers best to stand missis’s side the fence, now I tell yer.”

Black Sam, upon this, scratched his woolly pate, which, if it did not contain very profound wisdom, still contained a great deal of a particular species much in demand among politicians of all complexions and countries, and vulgarly denominated “knowing which side the bread is buttered;” so, stopping with grave consideration, he again gave a hitch to his pantaloons, which was his regularly organized method of assisting his mental perplexities.

“Der aint no sayin—never—bout no kind o thing in dis yer world,” he said at last.

Sam spoke like a philosopher, emphasizing this—as if he had had a large experience in different sorts of worlds, and therefore had come to his conclusions advisedly.

“Now, sartin I’d a said that missis would a scoured the varsal world after Lizzy,” added Sam, thoughtfully.

“So she would,” said Andy; “but can’t ye see through a ladder, yer black nigger? Missis dont want dis yer mass’r Haley to get Lizzy’s boy; dat’s de go!”

“High!” said Sam, with an indescribable intonation known only to those who have heard it among the negroes.

“And I’ll tell yer more’n all,” said Andy; “I specs you’d better be making tracks for dem hosses—mighty sudden, too—for I hearn missis quirin arter yer—so you’ve stood foolin long enough.”

Sam upon this began to bestir himself in real earnest, and after a while appeared, bearing down gloriously towards the house, with Bill and Jerry in a full canter, and adroitly throwing himself off before they had any idea of stopping he brought them up alongside of the horse-post like a tornado. Haley’s horse, which was a skittish young colt, winced and bounced and pulled hard at his halter.

“Ho, ho,” said Sam, “skeery, ar ye?”—and his black visage lighted up with a curious, mischievous gleam. “I’ll fix ye now,” said he.

There was a large beech tree overshadowing the place, and the small, sharp, triangular beech-nuts lay scattered thickly on the ground. With one of these in his fingers, Sam approached the colt—stroked and patted, and seemed apparently busy in soothing his agitation. On pretence of adjusting the saddle, he adroitly slipped under it the sharp little nut, in such a manner that the least weight brought upon the saddle would annoy the nervous sensibilities of the animal, without leaving any perceptible graze or wound.

“Dar!” he said, rolling his eyes with an approving grin, “me fix ’em!”

At this moment Mrs. Shelby appeared on the balcony, beckoning to him. Sam approached with as good a determination to pay court as did ever suitor after a vacant place at St. James or Washington.

“Why have you been loitering so, Sam? I sent Andy to tell you to hurry.”

“Lord bless you, missis,” said Sam, “horses won’t be cotched all in a minit;[5] they’d done clared out way down to the south pasture, and the Lord knows whar.”

“Sam, how often must I tell you not to say ‘Lord bless you and the Lord knows,’ and such things—it’s wicked.”

“Oh, Lord bless my soul, I done forgot, missis! I won’t say nothing of de sort no more.”

“Why, Sam, you just have said it again.”

“Did I? Oh, Lord! I mean—I didn’t go fur to say it.”

“You must be careful, Sam.”

“Just let me get my breath, missis, and I’ll start fair. I’ll be berry careful.”

“Well, Sam, you are to go with Mr. Haley to show him the road, and help him. Be careful of the horses, Sam; you know Jerry was a little lame last week; don’t ride them too fast.

Mrs. Shelby spoke the last words with a low voice and strong emphasis.

“Let dis child alone for dat!” said Sam, rolling up his eyes with a volume of meaning. “Lord knows! High! Didn’t say dat!” said he, suddenly catching his breath with a ludicrous flourish of apprehension, which made his mistress laugh, spite of herself. “Yes, missis, I’ll look out for de hosses!”

“Now, Andy,” said Sam, returning to his stand under the beech trees, “you see I wouldn’t be ’tall surprised if dat ’ar gen’lman’s crittur should gib a fling by and by, when he comes to be a gettin up. You know, Andy, critturs will do such things,” and therewith Sam poked Andy in the side in a highly suggestive manner.

“High!” said Andy, with an air of instant appreciation.

“Yes, you see, Andy, missis wants to make time—dat ar’s clar to der most or’nary ’bserver. I jis make a little for her. Now, you see, get all dese yer hosses loose caperin permiscus round dis yer lot and down to de wood dar, and I spec mass’r won’t be off in a hurry.”

Andy grinned.

“You see,” said Sam, with awful gravity, “yer see, Andy, if any such thing should happen, as that mass’r Haley’s horse should begin to act contrary and cut up, you and I jist let’s go of ourn to help him, and we’ll help him—oh, yes!” and Sam and Andy laid their heads back on their shoulders, and broke into a low, immoderate laugh, snapping their fingers and flourishing their heels with exquisite delight.

At this instant Haley appeared on the verandah. Somewhat mollified by certain cups of very good coffee, he came out smiling and talking in tolerably restored humor. Sam and Andy, clawing for certain fragmentary palm leaves, which they were in the habit of considering as hats, flew to the horse-posts to be ready to “help mass’r.”

Sam’s palm leaf had been ingeniously disentangled from all pretensions to braid as respects its brim, and the slivers starting apart, and standing upright, gave it a blazing air of freedom and defiance, quite equal to that of any Fega chief; while the whole brim of Andy’s being departed bodily, he rapped the crown on his head with a dexterous thump, and looked about well pleased, as if to say, “who says I haven’t got a hat!”

“Well, boys!” said Haley, “look alive now; we must lose no time.”

“Not a bit of him, mass’r!” said Sam, putting Haley’s rein in his hand, and holding his stirrup, while Andy was untying the other two horses.

The instant Haley touched the saddle, the mettlesome creature bounded from the earth with a sudden spring, that threw his master sprawling, some feet off, on the soft, dry turf. Sam, with frantic ejaculations, made a dive at the reins, but only succeeded in brushing the blazing palm leaf aforenamed into the horse’s eyes, which by no means tended to allay the confusion of his nerves. So with great vehemence he overturned Sam, and, giving two or three contemptuous snorts, flourished his heels vigorously in the air, and was soon prancing away towards the lower end of the lawn, followed by Bill,[6] whom Andy had not failed to let loose, according to contract, speeding them off with various direful ejaculations. And now ensued a miscellaneous scene of confusion. Sam and Andy ran and shouted, dogs barked here and there, and Mike, Mose, Mandy, Fanny, and all the smaller specimens on the place, both male and female, raced, clapped hands, whooped, and shouted, with outrageous officiousness and untiring zeal.

Haley’s horse, which was a white one, and very fleet and spirited, appeared to enter into the spirit of the scene amazingly,[7] and having for his coursing ground a lawn of nearly half a mile in extent, gently sloping down on every side into indefinite woodland, he appeared to take infinite delight in seeing how near he could allow his pursuers to approach him, and then, when within a hand’s breath,[8] whisk off with a start and a snort like a mischievous beast as he was, and career far down into some alley of the wood lot. Nothing was farther from Sam’s mind than to have any one of the troop taken until such season as should seem to him most befitting, and the exertions that he made were certainly most heroic. Like the sword of Cœur De Leon, which always blazed in the front and thickest of the battle, Sam’s palm leaf was to be seen everywhere when there was the least danger that a horse could be caught, and he would bear down full tilt, shouting, now for it! catch him! catch him! in a way that would set everything to indiscriminate route in a moment.

Haley ran up and down, and cursed and swore, and stamped miscellaneously. Mr. Shelby in vain tried to shout directions from the balcony, and Mrs. Shelby from her chamber window alternately laughed and wondered—not without some inkling of what lay at the bottom of all this confusion.

At last, about twelve o’clock, Sam appeared triumphant, mounted on Jerry, with Haley’s horse by his side, reeking with sweat, but with flashing eyes and dilated nostrils, showing that the spirit of freedom had not yet entirely subsided.

“He’s cotched!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “If ’t hadn’t been for me, they might a bust their selves, all on ’em; but I cotched him!”

“You!” growled Haley, in no amiable mood. “If it hadn’t been for you, this never would have happened.”

“Lord bless us, mass’r,” said Sam, in a tone of the deepest concern, “and we been racin and chacin till the swet jest pours off me!”

“Well! well!” said Haley, “you’ve lost me near three hours with your cursed nonsense. Now let’s be off, and have no more fooling.”

“Why, mass’r,” said Sam, in a deprecating tone, “I believe you mean to kill us all clar, horses and all. Here we are all just ready to drop down, and the critters all in a reek of sweat. Why, mass’r won’t think of startin on now till arter dinner. Mass’rs hoss wants rubben down; see how he splashed hisself; and Jerry limps, too; don’t think missis would be willin to have us start this way, no how. Lord bless you, mass’r, we can ketch up, if we do stop. Lizzy never was no great of a walker.”

Mrs. Shelby, who, greatly to her amusement, had overheard this conversation from the verandah, now resolved to do her part. She came forward, and, courteously expressing her concern for Haley’s accident, pressed him to stay to dinner, saying that the cook should bring it on the table immediately.

Thus, all things considered, Haley, with rather an equivocal grace, proceeded to the parlor, while Sam, rolling his eyes after him with unutterable meaning, proceeded gravely with the horses to the stable yard.

“Did yer see him, Andy? did yer see him?” said Sam, when he had got fairly beyond the shelter of the barn, and fastened the horse to a post. “Oh, Lor, if it warn’t as good as a meetin, now, to see him a dancin and kicken and swaring at us. Didn’t I hear him? Swar away, ole fellow, (says I to myself;) will yer have yer hoss now, or wait till you cotch him, (says I!) Lor, Andy, I think I can see him now;” and Sam and Andy leaned up against the barn, and laughed to their hearts’ content.

“Yer ought’ter seen how mad he looked when I brought the hoss up. Lord, he’d a killed me if he durs’to; and there I was a standin as innercent and as humble.”

“Lor, I seed you,” said Andy; “aint you an old hoss, Sam?”

“Rather specks I am,” said Sam; “did yer see missis up stars at the winder? I seed her laughin.”

“I’m sure I was racin so I didn’t see nothing,” said Andy.

“Well, yer see,” said Sam, proceeding gravely to wash down Haley’s pony, “I’se quired what yer may call a habit o bobservation, Andy. It’s a very portant habit, Andy; and I commend yer to be cultivatin it, now yer young. Hist up that hind foot, Andy. Yer see, Andy, it’s bobservation makes all de difference in niggers. Didn’t I see which way the wind blew dis yer mornin? Didn’t I see what missis wanted, though she never let on? Dat ar’s bobservation, Andy. I spects it’s what you may call a faculty. Facultys is different in different peoples, but cultivation of em goes a great way.”

“I guess if I hadn’t helped your bobservation dis mornin, yer wouldn’t have seen your way so smart,” said Andy.

“Andy,” said Sam, “you’s a promisin child, der aint no manner o dout. I thinks lots of yer, Andy; and I don’t feel no ways ashamed to take idees from you. We oughtenter overlook nobody, Andy, cause the smartest on us gets tripped up sometimes. And so, Andy, let’s go up to the house now. I’ll be bound missis ’ll give us an uncommon good bite dis yer time.”

[to be continued.]

 

Notes

This Stowe Center edition reproduces the National Era serial text of Uncle Tom’s Cabin. The wording of the newspaper in many cases differs from publisher John P. Jewett’s first edition. At the conclusion of each installment, notes are provided on a small selection of textual variants, those which have the greatest interpretive significance. The model for these notes is editor John Bryant’s concept of fluid-text editing, which foregrounds the interpretation of textual variants as an act of critical reading. Readers who hold alternate interpretations are encouraged to submit comments to the blog. For general comments on the text, see the Note on the Text.

Note 1

he was saluted, as usually is the case, with the | Erapg. 105

he was saluted with the | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 67

In the Era, the phrase “as usually is the case” explains the greeting that Haley receives from the Shelby servants. In the Jewett edition, the phrase is omitted. In the serial, Stowe highlights the apparent enjoyment of rubbing in the bad news as a source of entertainment for the Shelby slaves, and perhaps for people in general. In the Jewett edition, the enjoyment of Haley’s discomfiture may signal an unusual event in the Shelby household.[Back]

Note 2

fervency which tickled them all | Erapg. 105

fervency which delighted them all | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 67

In the Era, “tickled” is used in the sense of being “affected or excited by a pleasantly tingling or thrilling sensation; to be stirred or moved with a thrill of pleasure” OED. In the Jewett edition, the joy appears to be less visceral. The need for the change is not obvious, but Stowe or an editor may have sought to moderate the slaves’ carnivalistic enjoyment of Haley’s swearing. The alteration emphasizes the Shelby servants’ intellectual rather than corporeal enjoyment of Haley’s frustration. See next entry.[Back]

Note 3

to their hearts’ content. ¶ “If I | Erapg. 105

to their full satisfaction. ¶ “If I | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 68

The Era’s “hearts’ content” is a cliché with generally the same meaning as the Jewett edition’s “full satisfaction.” In addition to removing a clichéed phrase, by the revision Stowe or a Jewett editor may have sought to moderate the carnivalistic enjoyment of the serial description. The alteration emphasizes the Shelby servants’ intellectual rather than corporeal enjoyment of Haley’s frustration. See previous entry.[Back]

Note 4

I want ter know.” ¶ “Halloo, | Erapg. 105

I want to know.” ¶ “Halloo, | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 70

The Era dialect form “ter” is spoken both by Sam and Chloe. The form “ter” is common both in the serial and the Jewett edition. Therefore, the Jewett edition has an error: the dialect form “ter” was inadvertently replaced with the more proper form “to.”[Back]

Note 5

in a minit; they’d done | Erapg. 105

in a mimit; they ’d done | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 73

The Era has the dialect form “minit” (Sam and Haley) and “minnit” (Topsy). The Jewett edition has the form “mimit” (Sam), “minit” (Haley), and “minnit” (Topsy). As the serial was presumably used as the setting copy for the book, the form “mimit” may be a faulty correction of Stowe’s intent to add a second “n.” A compositorial error, therefore, most likely explains the Jewett edition’s unique form “mimit.” In later Jewett editions of Stowe’s work, the paperback (1852/1853) and the illustrated edition (1853), this form “mimit” is corrected to “minnit.” Thus neither form represents Stowe’s preference. We may suppose a deliberately corrupt dialect form “mimmit” as far less likely than a typesetter’s error. As pronunciation of “minnit” or “minit” and “minute” would not differ, “minit” or “minnit” are eye dialect that mocks Sam’s illiteracy.[Back]

Note 6

followed by Bill, whom Andy | Erapg. 105

followed by Bill and Jerry, whom Andy | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 75

Either Stowe in her manuscript or, more likely, an Era compositor omitted inadvertently the name of the second horse “Jerry.” The oversight is corrected in the Jewett edition.[Back]

Note 7

the scene amazingly, and having | Erapg. 105

the scene with great gusto; and having | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 75

Stowe in the Jewett edition appears to revise her description of Shelby’s horse’s participation in the chase. In the Era, “amazingly” might be taken to form an observer’s surprise at Haley’s horse’s unexpected or fervent participation. In the Jewett edition, Haley’s horse participates fervently, but its participation does not amaze the observer. The alteration for the Jewett edition may prevent a possible misreading, but Stowe’s revision could be taken to indicate the natural creature’s instinctive participation in the frolic of the chase.[Back]

Note 8

a hand’s breath, whisk off | Erapg. 105

a hand’s breadth, whisk off | Jewett (1852) vol. 1, pg. 75

The Era’s “hand’s breath” is an error that is corrected in the Jewett edition. Though the usual expression is the Jewett edition form, the newspaper form is a common error.[Back]

Copyright 2011. For introduction and annotation, all rights reserved. The text is distributed under a Creative Commons License. Creative Commons License Uncle Tom’s Cabin: National Era by Harriet Beecher Stowe is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at Copyright Commons License.

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