"Doan you be skeert, sar," the boy said, "dat's nottin' but Mandy Ann,
an onery nigger what b'longs to ole Miss Harris in de clarin' up ter
Ent'prise. She's been hired out a spell in Jacksonville,--nuss to a
little gal, and now she's gwine home. Miss Dory done sent for her,
'case Jake is gone and ole Miss is wus,--never was very peart," and
turning to the girl the boy Ted continued: "You Mandy Ann, doan you know
more manners not to skeer a gemman, rollin' round like a punkin? Get
back wid yer."
He spurned the bundle with his foot, while the stranger stopped
suddenly, as if a blow had been struck him.
"Who did you say she was? To whom does she belong, I mean?" he asked,
and the boy replied, "Mandy Ann, a no count nigger, b'longs to Miss
Harris. Poor white trash! Crackers! Dis your stateroom, sar. Kin I do
somethin' for you?"
The boy's head was held high, indicative of his opinion of poor white
trash and Crackers in general, and Mandy Ann in particular.
"No, thanks," the stranger said, taking his bag and shutting himself
into his stuffy little stateroom.
"'Specs he's from de Norf; looks like it, an' dey allus askin' who we
'longs to. In course we 'longs to somebody. We has ter," Ted thought, as
he made his way back to Mandy Ann, who was wide-awake and ready for any
war of words which might come up between herself and Ted, "who felt
mighty smart 'case he was cabin boy on de 'Hatty.'"
As Ted suspected, the stranger was of Northern birth, which showed
itself in his accent and cold, proud bearing. He might have been thirty,
and he might have been more. His face did not show his age. His features
were regular, and his complexion pale as a woman's. His eyes were a
cross between blue and gray, with a look in them which made you feel
that they were reading your inmost secrets, and you involuntarily turned
away when they were fixed upon you. On this occasion he seemed colder
and prouder than usual, as he seated himself upon the stool in his
stateroom and looked about him,--not at any thing that was there, for he
did not see it, or think how small and uncomfortable his quarters were,
although recommended as one of the staterooms _de luxe_ on the boat. His
thoughts were outside, first on Mandy Ann,--not because of anything
about her personally. He had seen nothing except a woolly head, a dark
blue dress, and two black, bare feet and ankles, but because she was
Mandy Ann, bound slave of "ole Miss Harris, who lived in de clarin',"
and for that reason she connected him with something from which he
shrank with an indescribable loathing. At last he concluded to try the
narrow berth, but finding it too hard and too short went out upon the
rear deck, and taking a chair where he would be most out of the way and
screened from observation, he sat until the moon went down behind a
clump of palms, and the stars paled in the light of the sun which shone
down upon the beautiful river and the tangled mass of shrubbery and
undergrowth on either side of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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